The Perfect Fit

by Cait London

  The cut-glass stopper caught the firelight and shot it at Silver in tiny, colored, slicing swords.

  The first tear burned down Silver’s cheek, the tug too deep and painful in her heart and raw to conceal. Her legs quivered and weakened, sending her down to her knees, her arms curling protectively around her. “Oh, Nick...”

  Through the smoke curling from the fire, Nick watched Silver pace back and forth. When he’d reached for her, she’d pushed him away with a snarl. He wasn’t experienced with comforting, but he knew that he could use a kind word and encouragement when dealing with Silver’s volatile emotions. He’d pushed down his frustration and knew that she’d fight him, fight the softness he didn’t know how to give. Brooding by the fire, she had refused the meal he’d cooked, tearing furiously at her peanut butter and jelly sandwich and glaring at him.

  In his mind, Nick saw another Silver, dressed in a treasured doeskin shift, her eyes soft upon a cradle made long ago. The softness within her frightened him; her fingertip. flowing lightly against his face had taken something from him and placed it into her keeping. The way her silvery eyes locked upon him, sometimes flaming, sometimes soft—The woman within her beckoned to Nick on a level that was primitive, yet almost quiveringly soft, an element that he’d known little about.

  She’d left him. Left the nest he had provided for her and had come to find her destiny without him. A man with a scarred past, Nick wasn’t expecting to feel as if his heart were gripped in a steel fist. The empty house and the terse note had frightened him. Then a call to Duncan proved Nick’s fears to be right—Silver had ridden Montoya up Tallchief Mountain. Cold terror drove Nick every step up Tallchief Mountain...anything could have happened to her—

  Along the way, swearing as night draped the mountain and his progress slowed, Nick realized that when he found Silver, he’d find the only woman who could complete him. Along the way, terrified that he might find her body torn apart, broken, at the bottom of a ravine, Nick had decided to many her. It was just a matter of getting Silver’s full attention and presenting himself to appeal to her. Nick wanted her to be just as desperate for him. For her to come after him, giving him a small dab of comfort, needing him—

  Nick spread his fingers, studying the scarred, tanned skin. The son of Lloyd Palladin knew how to reach out and take. To claim. Silver, a woman bred of magic and moonbeams and legends, needed a gentler man, one who knew how to play nicely and give her dreams. Nick inhaled abruptly, uncomfortable with his vulnerability. He would give her what he could and more.

  Now he sat admiring the angry, brooding female wrapped in the Tallchief tartan, fringes flying as she stalked back and forth. He noted with satisfaction that her grip on Elizabeth’s bottle was firm, clutched in her fist, just as he wanted her to want him. With cropped black hair, her graceful body taut with anger, she stopped pacing, long legs braced apart on the ground as she faced him. “A man whose hobbies are laundry and ironing is too complicated. That iron has enough gizmos on it to fly. You iron everything, even your shorts and T-shirts. That laundry room is overneat, the softeners and detergents lined up like soldiers. I do not like a crease in my jeans. You wear a crease in your jeans that could cut bread. And you...”

  She struggled to list his faults, no easy task when she wanted to leap upon him and change that shielded expression to one of passion and one to take her breath away. “You cook with a flourish. Laundry and cooking—the refrigerator is always filled, the cupboards are chock-full—all methodically arranged, of course—and you approach a puzzle as though games are a luxury. I do not understand any of that. You come after me—fine. I understand that. I am an asset to Palladin, Inc. You are protecting the company’s investment and potential earnings. I’ve known you two and a half weeks, and none of it has been sweet. Now, you’re shoving something else on the desktop—you say you want to be with me, that you missed me. What does that mean?”

  Nick nudged a rock with his boot. Fear, frustration and anger had ridden him since Duncan’s call infonning him that Silver had ridden up the Tallchief trail. Her first reaction—that expression of sheer pleasure—had startled, then pleased him. Now, he was as welcome as yesterday’s cold french fries. What had he expected? Loving, open arms, sweet kisses? Her statement had hurled, like a spear thrown down between them, a challenge that covered something deeper—at least she’d noticed him.

  “You figure it out,” he said, settling back to watch her storms through the smoke and the sparks drifting between them.

  He glanced at his hands, spread them, studying their strength and the scars. She couldn’t know how, as a child, Nick had lived in filthy clothes, his father too busy pulling scams and wrapped in his own selfish passions to care for his children. A washing machine, when they could find it, had been a luxury to them, and a dryer, pure heaven. They had hoarded bars of soap and took showers in freezing rain to keep clean, to keep the other children from taunting them. Regular and healthy food was a luxury, and the need to fit puzzle pieces together, make one composite, streamlined picture, arose from his haphazard, painful youth.

  She shot out a hand as if to cut him from her life. “You look like your brothers, but you’re not at all easygoing like they are. You’re in my way, Nick Palladin. I’ve got things to do. You’re complicating my life.”

  “Okay.” Nick intended his relationship with Silver to get very complicated. The image of her dressed in Una’s shift and touching the baby cradle swept through him again, leaving a poignant ache.

  Silver eyed him and ran her hand over the new short length of her hair, riffling it. “If you’re worried about a claim of sexual harassment—don’t. I can take care of myself. I don’t understand you. Why are you afraid of me? Of having me?” In an afterthought, she restated, “Why are you afraid of me having you?”

  “Ah. Equality. You having me.” The image shot down his body, hardening it.

  She took a step closer, watching him. She nudged his laced hiking boot with hers. “Get out of my way, or I’ll go right over you.”

  Along with his anger and frustration and fear upon finding that Silver had flown his keeping, Nick had placed his thoughts in meticulous order and knew what he wanted. “You can try. I’ll want children when we’re married, but those terms are negotiable. I’ll never stray. I’ll never hurt you. I’ll be there when you need me. I’ll help you find what you’re looking for. I’ll give you what you need.”

  Need. The need for Silver frightened him. Yet it was there, not to be ignored—for she was fiery and bold and yet soft and quivering and beautiful. Nick rose to his feet and walked to her. When her scent snared him, caused his senses to leap, Nick pushed his hands into his back pockets to keep from reaching for her. Silver stared at him blankly, her lips parted. Though her expression wasn’t of a joyous woman in love, the frustration coming upon it pleased Nick immensely.

  Standing draped in her Tallchief tartan, legs braced in her tight jeans and staring up at him, the cut-glass bottle clutched in her hand, Silver was exactly perfect. Not exactly sweet, but a woman of heart, a fighter, and a woman who fascinated him, who made his senses leap and his heart race. If she wanted a seduction, he’d give her a permanent one. Nick bent to kiss one corner of her mouth and then the other. “Good night.”

  All she had to do was to drag his two-hundred-plus-poundsand-six-foot-four, very delectable body, into her tent. Nick lay outside, close and protective, in his sleeping bag. To a woman who made her living by sampling, by taking chances, the challenge and curiosity were irresistible. He’d handed her an invitation to marriage as though he expected her to comply. He’d made promises without asking for them in return. He’d laid out his terms.

  The man was old-fashioned, layered by man-woman rules and scarred edges from his past.

  Marriage to Nick Palladin would be a disaster... impossible. She tossed the offer aside. She had her goals; she’d worked a lifetime to achieve her independence, her life apart from family ties and the twisting pain they could bring—<
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  If he came into her tent...if he came into her tent, she would have him without commitrment.

  The Tallchief tartan ran smooth beneath her hand, as she thought of how to skip the preliminaries, take what she wanted and be on her way. She trailed a finger down the exquisite sharp edges of Elizabeth’s perfume bottle and lifted the stopper to sniff the elegant rose fragrance. He found her attractive, didn’t he? she thought as she lightly touched the tiny glass rod between her breasts. She replaced the stopper to the bottle. The gift was romantic, not a box of chocolates, but meant for her alone. He’d taken the time to search out a part of her heritage. He’d been vulnerable then, a big man standing with the small package in his work-roughened hand, as though he feared she would not take his gift.

  She would take his gift and more.

  And more. Nick wanted more....

  There was no mistaking that dark glow of his green eyes tonight, or the tenderness and those heated and whimsical kisses. He could be her companion, her lover, but not her confidant. Her beautiful, exciting, warm, cuddly accessory. She even liked his ill-temper at times; it provided a release valve for her own. At the moment, he was a headache to be handled delicately, for Nick Palladin was a sensitive, old-fashioned and definitely caring man. His fear for her had been honest; and he’d come after her. He’d spoken plainly, each word a promise. She wanted more from him, more delight, more words to treasure, more enchanting kisses—

  After an hour of restraining herself and the realization that Nick was not making himself available easily, Silver drew the Tallchief plaid around her flannel pajamas and went to attack Nick.

  He lay near the small fire, his back to her, his shoulder gleaming above the sleeping bag. Silver sat down behind him, studying her prey, who slept quietly, without her restless needs, without the need to challenge or seduce her—

  She touched his shoulder and found it hard, immovable and cold. Unable to resist, she bent to place her lips on that expanse of tanned skin over cords and powerful muscle. She smoothed his hair, thick, warm waves flowing through her fingers, releasing more of his intoxicating scent. She drew it into her, placing her nose close to his skin, just there behind his ear, where the scent lurked true and dark and mysterious. She skimmed her nose across his shoulder and down his arm where there was power and sniffed lightly at his hand, where there was gentleness and pleasure. She drew back, studying him. Asleep, Nick seemed younger, the harsh lines gentling on his face. She couldn’t bear to think of him struggling to survive with his brothers, their rough, unstable life.

  She lightly prodded the strand of hair that lay across the jacket he’d rolled and used as a pillow. Crisp and waving, his hair ran smooth beneath her touch. The Palladins were wrapped in pride, trying their best to right their father’s wrongs, to live honorable lives.

  Unable to resist, she placed her cheek along his, nuzzling him as she inhaled his scent. Tempted by his hard lips, she eased to trace them with her own.

  Wrapped in sleep, Nick shifted slightly, answering her kiss gently. She braced her hands beside him, leaning to savor the light kisses she needed. She sniffed again lightly, taking in the essence of the man—dark. heady, dangerous and real—the smoke, horse and leather. He’d held a baby during the day, the scent stronger along his throat. There on his new beard was the fragrance of soap and magic and lime. She traced his bottom lip with her tongue, tasting him, enjoying Nick at her leisure. She gently traced his ear with her parted lips, the texture delighting her.

  Nick shivered and groaned, his breath ragged, and Silver sat up behind him, studying him as the firelight played upon his rugged face, his rumpled hair. She smoothed the waves, let them flow beneath her palm, and then her fingers found that beautiful, bare, powerful shoulder.

  She opened her hands on his bare cool back, studying the contrast of her pale skin against his, the muscles rippling slightly as he adjusted to her touch. She traced a cord, bent to kiss it. She had to claim Nick, taste him, have him. She had to take what was hers and her right to take. Aye, she would take him—She was on her ancestors’ land and he was hers to claim. She smiled softly, mocking herself, her pride in her Sioux and Scots hentage, her will to have what belonged to her. She was the hunter now, strong and with just that bit of savagery that she knew Nick could match. Honest and raw, pretenses swept aside, Nick equaled her, completed her, fascinated her. Silver closed her eyes; Nick was hers...now...here. She didn’t have to worry about Jasmine, or her shattered family...she only had to please herself. Nick, she sensed, could please her thoroughly.

  Silver undressed slowly, moving carefully through her thoughts. Nick would treat her gently; she trusted him on that leveL In the morning, she’d be sleeping in her tent, having taken him and enough beautiful memories to last her lifetime. She glanced up at the stars, treasured them on this night with Nick, before the past caught up with her in the morning—

  Silver eased the zipper downward and slid into the sleeping bag against Nick’s back. She sucked in her breath, the length of naked and powerful man shocking her. She blinked and jerked her fingers from his naked hip. Of course, Nick would sleep naked; she should have known. She closed her eyes; he fit perfectly, all that warm lovely back against her bare breasts, that hard taut bottom spooned to her lap—she eased her arm over his, smiled as his muscles flexed and leaped, her fingers smoothing the hair on his chest.

  Nick groaned unevenly and Silver held her breath while he turned to her, drawing her close to him. His cheek, rough with stubble against hers, nuzzled her gently, his lips finding her ear to whisper drowsily, “Is it yes?”

  “Yes.” He was sleeping, of course, dreaming, and she had him in her power, here in the night where all that mattered was here and now, the rest of life pushed away. Nick’s big hand slid to caress her back, from shoulder to hip, and lower, cupping her bottom, drawing her close to him.

  The bold hardened length against her stomach momentarily frightened Silver, and she braced herself against the surprise, the intimate male form new and dangerous.

  “Yes?” he asked again, and though he was sleeping, Silver knew that Nick would never force himself upon her.

  She whispered “Yes” against his lips, the gentle, seeking kiss, his hands opening, smoothing her. His tongue tasted her lips and Silver parted them for him, for the daring heated play she had to have. Then he kissed her ear, roamed to her jaw and bit her gently as she arched toward him.

  Nick moved over her, eased his face against her throat and caressed her breast, cupping her gently.

  When his lips touched her breasts, found the aching tips and suckled gently, one by one, Silver found and matched the rhythm with her hips, easing up against him, aching. Heavy agamst her, his face warm, his lips tugging at her breasts. Nick’s fingers slid downward, between their bodies, to stroke her intimately.

  The gentle intrusion surprised and delighted her, and Silver locked her arms around him, bit his ear and found a desperate, aching, melting rhythm that took her inside herself. The intimate delight poured over her gently, and the taut muscles in her body slid into silk.

  “Yes,” she whispered, giving herself into Nick’s care as he moved closer, safely, heavily upon her. The heavy pressure was familiar and new, opening her to him, flowing gently—

  “Silver?” he murmured unevenly, his body trembling over her, taut and hard and burning.

  Whatever he wanted, she wanted equally, the need flowing just beyond her reach and she locked her body against his, fierce with the need to have everything, to captured this man, to free herself—

  She hadn’t expected the sharp pain as he came into her, tightening against him. She panted, focusing on the intrusion, the mystery of man joining with woman, giving her his trust. He stopped and she protested, drawing him nearer, and then he began again, filling her. She didn’t know that a man could be so gentle, painstakingly soothing her with wonderful, dark, intimate words, which she would hoard and treasure. She’d given him beauty and pleasure and delight, she hea
rd him whisper distantly, his hands warm and gentle upon her. He told her how he felt inside her, warm and tight and as if she were the other part of him. Magic curled through her, the pain easing as Nick came fully, gently, into her, giving her time to adjust, whispering to her.

  Magic, she thought again, as he moved upon her just once, locked within her keeping. Warm and bold and hers. Nick. Nick. His hands moved beneath her, helped her flow into the magic, his body blending with hers like silk upon warm waves. Textures, heat, throbbing... Fire. Storms. Need. Every scent, every touch, real ... stark... truthful... releasing her—

  The shattering of her body sent her soaring, the rhythm so fast she couldn’t catch her breath, command her senses, restrain them—she could only pour herself against Nick, meeting him, floating gently back into herself.

  She kept him close, his cheek resting on her breasts, his taut body easing up on her, his hands stroking her luxuriously.

  She drifted, giving herself to his warmth, the pulse running through him, and once awoke as Nick’s hands gently moved upon her, cleansing her with a warm, damp cloth. Certain that she was dreaming, yet unfamiliar with a man’s intimate touch, she gripped his wrist and Nick whispered, “Go back to sleep, sweetheart. I’ll take care of you.”

  Why did she believe him, even in her dreams? Silver wondered distantly as she slid into sleep, welcomed it and the man who came back into her arms....