The Perfect Fit

by Cait London

  Silver couldn’t afford to be in any pattern again in her lifetime—the loss when the family came unraveled had hurt too much. With Jasmine, they’d been happy, complete—Silver turned to study the mountain range, the high meadows and jutting rocks that had reminded her great-great-grandmother of Scotland.

  Sybil, Duncan Tallchief’s wife and an expert genealogist, was searching for more of the Tallchief legacy. She knew that Elizabeth had written many letters to her friends and family in England, and yet only a few had survived. Those that had were in Silver’s keeping, and she didn’t intend to share.

  She would mislead the Tallchiefs into sharing everything, and yet she wouldn’t give them honesty. She couldn’t bear to let them know about Jasmine, about the dreams they’d shared, their lives twined together so closely they were of one mind, one heart. She’d come for a purpose, to wrest information and the pearls from the Tallchiefs’ keeping; now guilt clenched her, so heavy with selfish greed and fear that it took away her breath.

  Another predator, Nick sensed that she moved toward her goal, and she could not forgive him for that.

  Those dark green eyes traced her movements in the lab, mocked her, until she wanted to pounce upon him, feed upon him.

  How dare he reach into her and tug at dreams she’d killed long ago?

  How dare he make her want him, challenge her, when he knew that she rose to challenges too easily?

  How dare he touch her, kiss her, look at her body, her breasts and place his lovely mouth upon her? How could she know that exquisite beauty of his mouth could tug so violently at her needs?

  How dare he place his kiss into the very center of her palm for safekeeping? Silver scrubbed her palms against her jeaned thighs, and yet the tenderness of the light kiss remained. She couldn’t have him interfering with the path she had chosen.

  And he would, for he was the hunter now, watching her.

  She pushed thoughts of Nick away, not an easy task when her body was humming with the need of his. I’m the man who is going to be in your bed.... After the brief shudder, a sudden sensual awakening escaped her, Silver refocused on her goal—The pearls waited for her and she would have them and then Jasmine could test.

  In her letters, Elizabeth had written, “I’ve flung my pearls into the black abyss, for I would easily sacrifice jewels and riches so that my fine, tall and dark lord, Liam Tallchief, can keep his pnde. The villains had torn them from me that day we met, and Liam returned them to me, circled them around my throat with his own hands. It was then I knew the magic of the man and of the pearls, and with that gesture, he placed himself within my heart. May the pearls rest in the gloomy shadows until another woman’s heart reaches out for love and comes searching for them.”

  The “gloomy shadows” could have been any of the caves on Tallchief Mountain, or resting in its shadow, flowing over the meadows. Silver bent to touch a thoinbush budding with pink wild roses. “This is not moving fast enough, Jasmine. Nick is at my every turn. He isn’t a man who can be misled...well, there was that virgin thing. No gentleman would say something like that, but he isn’t nice. He knows I want something, the problem is—Aye, I do want him. He’s like a volatile, wary, untested scent that fascinates me. The mix of base, middle and top notes is too intriguing. He’s cocky, arrogant, and not malleable at all. Then he’s boyish, and devastating, and tormenting and—he’s so vulnerable to his past, fearing it, fearing himself. I understand him on that level—”

  She opened the door to scents of baking and casseroles, the sounds of washer and dryer humming and the sight of a tall, powerfully built cowboy balancing a toddler on his hip and chuckling. Half pulled free from the rod, the sheer panel swathed the man and child, the toddler’s chubby hand locked to the fabric. When he saw Silver, little Ian Palladin held up the panel to play a gurgling peekaboo.

  Nick’s smile died slowly. He stood holding the green-eyed toddler, who looked just like him. Silver’s heart stopped as Nick’s gaze locked with hers, the toddler investigating his ear with a chubby finger.

  Silver panicked; she had to escape the softness of the scene curling around her heart. Locked to the floor and tangled in dreams and tenderness, her booted feet refused to move.

  “Come here,” Nick ordered quietly over the loud flip-flop of her heart.

  Silver shivered. This was the dream she’d shared with Jasmine long ago—a home, complete with a man holding a baby and—

  “Come here, sweetheart,” Nick repeated more softly.

  Sweetheart. Her? Stripped of challenges, the word vibrated inside her, thrilled her, blanketed her with dreams gone long ago.

  Silver locked her icy hand on the doorknob. “Home” wasn’t for her, or green-eyed warlords with babies on their hips. She had pearls to find, and then she would be free—

  She backed against the door, flattening to it, trying to suck air into her lungs. Children and husbands and homes...

  Nick walked slowly to her. He snapped a stalk of jasmine on the way, tucking it over her ear. His kiss was too light, too sweet, too tender, brushing her parted lips. “Tell me what you want,” he said simply.

  She wanted Jasmine alive and laughing; she wanted her family happy and complete, she wanted the huge Montclair pearls and not the baby who had squealed and leaped into her arms, all chubby, fragrant and soft. She wanted freedom from the shadows, not the green-eyed man who saw too much as the baby toyed with her hair and claimed her heart.

  The telephone’s ring tore her from the moment, and she hurried for freedom, away from Nick. She reached for the telephone, her hand shaking, and her brother’s voice slid through the miles to her. “Glynis?”

  Glynis. The name shattered her, shredding the previous moment. It had been “Glynis and Jasmine” for the first seventeen years of her life. Now Jasmine was gone and Silver had emerged, terrified that she had survived, that she had sinned by simply living.

  “Don’t call me again,” Silver said quietly, the icy shroud, her desperation folding around her once more. Fearing that Nick would see her tears, she pushed the baby at him.

  In the morning he was gone, soaring off into the sky and leaving her free.

  A day without Nick Palladin looming behind her was enough, and she’d set the stage for freedom with a scribbled note—Visiting a friend for a week—and set off to explore Tallchief Mountain. She’d had one good day upon the mountain, following the trail the Tallchiefs had for generations, upward to the meadows and the jutting rocks and caves; an experienced horsewoman, she handled Montoya easily. In the evening, after harvesting a bouquet of mountain wildflowers, Silver banked the campfire, placing ashes over the coals, ready to be scraped back in the morning. She crouched beside the fire and listened to Tallchief Mountain settling for the night, coyotes howling at the moon, birds roosting, rustling the limbs, owls on high branches, watching for prey—

  The night breeze rifled through Silver’s short-cropped hair, the bleached strands cut before leaving Nick’s ranch. She’d hurried to dress, to saddle Montoya, to meet her fate. She wanted to hunt on the mountain like a Tallchief, her Sioux blood rising, eager for the search. Her climbing gear was safely tucked in the Palladin, Inc. tent, borrowed from Nick, and tomorrow she would climb the jutting cliffs. Tethered for night, Montoya nickered, lifting his head, hooves stamping uneasily and then he settled, staring into the forest’s shadows.

  Sprawled before the campfire, Silver inhaled the fresh scents of pine and earth and studied the meadow, the stream rippling quietly. A peanut butter and jelly sandwich would serve as her meal, but for now she wanted to enjoy the night without Nick and the emotions that he amused. He’d tossed her young dreams at her feet, offering no bridal price, no prince, no legends, no bonding—

  She ran her hands through her hair, the short spiky feel of the natural glossy black strands almost sensuous against her palms. The new cropped length was easier to manage, taking less time, and Silver needed time to hunt—Elizabeth’s “gloomy shadows” could be a small canyon, not
a moonlit lush meadow that had reminded Una of Scotland. To find the pearls, Silver needed her inheritance of a Sioux shaman and a Celtic seer. She listened to the night, and it gave her nothing but delicious, dark scents.

  She scanned the stars and wallowed in her freedom, a day pried away from Nick’s watchful eyes. She couldn’t afford the panic and the painful tenderness that lunched, alive and vibrating, when she saw him, or the sheer, throbbing hunger.

  She folded her arms across her knees and rested her forehead on them, the Tallchief tartan draped around her shoulders. She was too tired to fight away dreams of Nick holding her, that sweet kiss and the dark, passionate hunger.

  “He’ll be a fine beast of a man, haughty and proud and strong as a bear, gnawing at the maiden’s shields, testing her, claiming her with wicked eyes and the pearls nestled in his hand. If he places them upon her, warmed by his flesh, and gives her a sweet kiss, the pearls will be her undoing. Then their hearts will join forever.”

  Silver scrubbed her face with her hands, willing herself not to think of Nick. She wrapped her arms around her bent knees and rocked herself. She had to find—

  A stick cracked behind Silver, just as the back of her denim jacket was gripped and used to haul her to her feet, spinning her around. A man’s big, leather encased fist gripped the front of her jacket.

  Six

  In the firelight, the man towering over her was unshaven and there wasn’t a fnendly, forgiving thing about his scowL She should have been frightened; she wasn’t At the sight of him, a tiny thrill of pleasure swept over her. Nick’s fist remained clamped on the front of her jacket, and he shook her once, hard. “Visiting a friend, are you? Isn’t that what you wrote in your note, to keep me from finding you? Didn’t you think I’d notice my missing camping gear? Exactly who were you planning to visit? A bear? Or a mountain lion?” he flung at her.

  That surprising warm glow of pleasure surrounding Silver’s heart shriveled.

  He dodged the swing she took at him, and sidestepped the kick. He shook her again, and hitched her up a notch until her toes barely touched the ground. Nick’s narrowed, accusing glare was waiting, level with hers. “Do you have any idea what could have happened to you on this featherbrained escapade?”

  It was difficult to threaten him when she was hanging from his fist, but she managed. She slapped the Tallchief tartan over her shoulder with as much dignity as she could manage. “Let me go, Palladin. I’ve had enough of your bullying.”

  “Bullying? Me?” he roared loud enough to wake those dangerous mountain animals. For an instant, Nick’s expression went blank as though he had stunned himself. Then he glared at her, nostrils flaring and jaw set as the echo shot off the mountain and curled around them. Then he said too quietly and between his teeth, “I...never...yell.”

  “You just did. Don’t blame it on me.” Because she couldn’t let him push her around, terrorize her, without returning the favor, Silver grabbed fistfuls of his jacket and shook.

  While the night breeze danced in his longer hair, tangling the waving strands up and into the night, Nick didn’t budge; he peered at her. “What are you doing?”

  “Shaking you. Dam you—shake.” The powerful muscles and bone remained solid and unmoving, but Nick lowered her feet to the ground. If she’d had bones and flesh that obeyed, she’d be off and running. Instead, she murdered him with her stare. Slayed him and made him crawl. His devastating, delighted grin said she had truly terrified him.

  “Why?” he asked curiously, tilting her head to study her cropped hair with interest, while he held her imprisoned in one arm.

  She ducked and swatted at the big hand skimming across her head, rubbing and exploring her short hair. “I’m furious, that’s why. You’ve just scared the life out of me, you jerk.”

  She must have imagined he’d chuckled just then, because didn’t he know that she was furious with him?

  He crushed her to him, grinning. He bit her chin lightly, startling her, and moved to nibble on her ear. “Aye, you’re frightened—monogamy with me tenifies you...admit it. Now give me a kiss and tell me you’re glad to see me.”

  Toes off the ground again, arms pinned at her sides, Silver opened her mouth to tell him where he could go and found his mouth fused to hers. Oh, he was an arrogant savage all right, she thought dizzily, before sinking deeper into the kiss and giving it back with the hunger that had leaped out of her.

  She could have twisted her mouth away. She could have bit that tormenting, tantalizing tongue that sought and claimed bold entrance to her. Instead, she met him in battle, pushed her mouth against his and slayed him with greed and hunger, drinking in the taste of him, the unique scents of Nick Palladin. Nick. Real... raw... soldd...

  His hands opened upon her, then caressed, circling her nape. He eased her head back, allowing him to trail kisses along her throat.

  Silver latched her hands to his hair, fisting the heavy waves, keeping him close, devouring him, until they were both panting, glittering hot-eyed at each other and hearts pounding for another round.

  Lips swollen, tasting of him, she managed to pant, “I got to you, didn’t I, Palladia?”

  “I’m not so far gone that I won’t recover. But the next time you feed upon me, you’re staying for dinner,” he snapped back unevenly, glaring at her.

  “Dessert.” She upped the ante with a grin, magic singing through her veins, carrying her inches above the ground.

  His eyes scalded down the length of her body, draped in the tartan, and back up, heating her skin despite the cold mountain air. They were equal now, each hungry for the other; predators, standing toe-to-toe, pretenses ripped away and not willing to give the other an inch. “On your terms?”

  “Always.” She shrugged, too tense to be casual. She wanted to haul him into her tent and ravish hum. She studied him as she slowly circled him, appraising his nice backside and broad shoulders. Ravishing a man Nick’s size could take—she had no idea how long or the method of seduction. She patted his tense jaw, and stayed to stroke the stubble beneath her palm. “A gentleman would make this easy for me.”

  “Saving time and avoiding complications, you mean.” His hand swept over her cropped hair, rubbing it as if he were a friendly brother. His palm met her nose and he pushed her back a step, setting his own rules and distance between them. “You’ve left your mane on the bathroom floor.”

  She wanted the heat back, not the control or the tenderness in his expression. “Scared you, didn’t it?”

  His low whistle brought an Appaloosa mare to him, and Nick began unsaddling her. “If I didn’t know how contrary you could be, I might have worried.”

  “I did make you wony, didn’t I?” she persisted, anxious to have him admit her victory, to wrench it away from his grasp.

  “My only worry was how you would sit in the saddle on the way down after I finished the spanking you deserve.... I’m hungry. Feed me, will you?” he asked, as though they’d shared a lifetime together and he expected her to have his supper ready.

  His request and his arrogance took her back a step. Nick braced his legs and looked down at her, eyes flickering beneath his lashes, testing her. When her tongue unlocked, she managed to say, “I don’t cook and you know it.”

  He crouched to forage in her backpack and groaned when lace panties caught on his glove. He stared at them as if they were ready to bite him, then impatiently jammed tbem back into the tangled pack. He stood, muttering, “Peanut butter and jam... instant coffee and snack crackers. Figures. That’s why I’m here, darling. To feed you and to keep your precious hide safe. You at least should have packed a trail mix of nuts and dehydrated fruits.”

  Until she’d met Nick, she had been safe, wrapped in her drive to set Jasmine free—“Do I look in need of a keeper? You’re baby-sitting me because I’m an asset to Palladin, Inc. Because Mamie would fire you if anything happened to me, Palladin’s little moneymaker,” she snapped at him.

  “No,” he answered thoughtfully, his eye
s softening upon her as he reached out to rub her short hair. In no mood for friendly play, she dodged his hand. He reached to tug her earlobe gently and let his hand be swatted away. He shoved his hands into his back pockets. “I came because I wanted to be with you. I missed you. I missed your hot, sassy mouth and dark, witching looks.”

  Silver tried to ignore the zinging, heady warmth, the enchantment his words brought her. She braced herself against his charm, unwilling to fall to him as other women had. “You’ve decided to oblige Mamie. I could have you and waltz away quite free. Not a bit of guilt on my part.”

  “There would be on mine. I’d want more, and Mamie has nothing to do with this,” Nick murmured after a long look up into the stars.

  More. She’d been through enough emotions to last her lifetime. The thought sent Silver reeling into reality, knocking the breath out of her. “I can’t afford this,” she admitted unwillingly, feet braced against the ground, fear pumping wildly through her. She followed him as he led the mare to Montoya, tethenng her. He ran his hand over the Appaloosa’s flank, patting the mottled hide. before he turned to Silver:

  He was taking his time, darn him, setting his logic In place and fitting puzzle pieces together, while her emotions were in shreds. “I can’t afford you,” she repeated, challenging his grip on her passions. “You’ve changed the rules of play to suit you. I’m not made for what you want I can’t.”

  “You suit me,” he said quietly.

  Passion, she told herself wildly, desperately. That was all she felt for Nick, heat and storms, and when she had feasted her fill, the world would stop tumbling....

  He tossed her a small package from his pocket. “You’ve been collecting Elizabeth’s letters, and you might want this. It was supposed to have been hers.”

  Silver stared at the small, light package in her hand; it could be an emotional bomb. She’d liked the last gift far too much and had given nothing back. She’d planned to return it but couldn’t. Greed and curiosity drove her, and she didn’t hide her excitement as she dashed away the wrappers, then slowly peeled away the layers of tissue to reveal an exquisite cut-glass antique perfume bottle. The delicate scent of English roses curled into the night air, as though Elizabeth called out to her from another time. Elizabeth had loved Liam desperately, and he returned that trust. Silver had come to the Tallchiefs falsely, tearing at their legends, betraying them, and she wasn’t worthy of the beauty—and Nick was in the mix, wanting truth and more from her.