The Perfect Fit

by Cait London

  He’d come to retrieve her from the depths of Tallchief Lake, and Nick’s scowl behind the diving mask said he wasn’t in the mood to argue. His finger pointed to his diving watch, then his thumb jerked upward, signaling their necessary ascent to the surface of Tallchief Lake.

  After three solid days of diving, Silver began to doubt her vision of the watery tunnel. She took one last survey of the murky rubble of fallen trees and boulders at one end of Tallchief Lake, then began to make her way upward. Already in the large fully equipped boat that Nick had commandeered from a friend, he reached to haul her over the side. He grimly took off her mask, stripped away her tank and began unzipping her wet suit. Before he turned away to strip his own wet suit, the look he shot down her bikini-clad body was hungry, hot and frustrated. “You’ve been diving for three days and working all night on the signature scent. You need rest and food. You’re stopping for the day, and I’m telling Mamie that the conference with Marketing next week is canceled. There’s no way you can keep up this pace.”

  “I’ll meet that contract and every meeting it takes to put Silver’s Signature Fragrances into Palladin’s marketing machine. But right now, I’m going back down—”

  Nick’s narrowed eyes flashed at her, his open hand slamming against the side of the boat. “The hell you are. I was out of my mind to agree to let you dive alone. That lake is reputedly bottomless with a strong current—You were supposed to keep that rope tied to you and you were supposed to tug it every five minutes. Instead, I pulled the rope, and you weren’t on the other end.”

  Her muscles ached; she was drained, tired and too frightened to stop. “So you came after me. I don’t like being kept on a leash, Nick. I’m an experienced diver and I do not like heavy-handed men. You like to push...you’ve been using your troubleshooting abilities on me. I’m a woman, Nick. Not an acquisition.”

  Nick glared at her for a solid minute before speaking, a muscle clenching in his jaw, darkened with a day’s growth of stubble. He looked raw, sexy and frustrated, shoving his hand back through his hair. It had grown long, waving down the back of his taut neck. “Handling difficult women and mules has been easy, until you. Be sensible. You work all night, moving around your beakers and scents and your notebooks, sketching and—”

  “You mean you can’t charm me into having your way. Carrying me into your bed wasn’t my idea. I was perfectly happy—”

  “Sleeping with your head on the laboratory countertop. I wanted it on my shoulder. Your sketches for the new designer bottle are good, by the way. The swirl is a clean, elegant design. That little gold Celtic medallion tied to the top provides a whimsical touch. We can use that coin image in other marketing ideas. Let me know when you want a primary consultation with our marketing department.”

  “The glass should be iridescent, pale blues and greens. Like sky at the beginning and the end of the day, like meadows shimmermg with dew.” Silver scanned the lake. “I want to go down just one more time.... How would you like it if I pushed you into a shower at two o’clock in the morning, soaped you down—muttering about contrary women—and hauled you off to my bed?”

  “You smelled like sex. Not a delicate scent, but powerful enough to rack a man’s nerves. If one whiff of that caught on the wmd, I’d be called out by all the bachelors in the area and probably a few married men,” Nick returned darkly,

  “I was testing a scent liquor in massage oil. I got a little carried away with the keynote scents, and fouled the dilution ratio of the carrier mix. Jojoba oil has a way of slipping away from you, you know,” she muttered. One sight of Nick strolling by her laboratory door, dressed only in his boxer shorts, and her hand had automatically reached for the sensual scents.

  Nick could be distracting, especially when he laughed aloud while playing with one of the Tallchiefs’ children. Awakening this morning, curled next to his body, she could have almost forgotten what drove her, what she had to find. Almost. She looked out onto the lake, shadowed by the rugged mountain where her ancestors had lived and loved. Other women had sought and found peace; Silver had to do the same. “I want to finish this, Nick. I have to.”

  “You will.”

  July’s heat spread upon the dark surface of Tallchief Lake, the temperatures icy at the bottom. At dusk, the scent of sun warmed pine and the lush reeds bordering the lake curled around her, the light summer wind bringing her other scents, those of pungent sage and softer sweetgrass, and—Silver lifted her head slightly, taking in the scent of the Tallchiefs’ meadow, filled with grazing sheep.

  She studied the rippling water, trying to see to the murky depths, and another darker, immediate scent slid around her—Nick’s. She turned to him as he crouched to put away their diving gear. Clad in loose bathing shorts, Nick’s muscles and cords rippled beneath his tanned skin, his hair gleaming richly in the sunlight His head turned slowly, his eyes lasering across the slight distance to her. His large hands gripped the air tank tightly. “Do you have any idea what it does to a man to have his woman downwind and sniffing him?” he asked m an uneven, deep, raw tone.

  Nick studied the woman who had turned from him, her eyes closed as she reached out both hands, opening her fingers to the sensations as she did often now. The dying sunlight pooled around her bikini-clad body, and his throat tightened almost painfully, his body needing hers. There hadn’t been time to court her as he wanted; instead, the hard need to claim Silver had shot out of him like a bullet. The phrase “his woman” smacked of a traditional, possessive male, who knew he had bonded forever with one woman...a haunted woman who hadn’t given herself fully to their relationship. Maybe his need to help her was selfish, to free her for himself. Maybe it was because he knew the fear of failure, knew how it felt to be the mirror image of someone else.

  He ran his hand along his jaw, the sound as raw as his emotions. He feared for Silver’s safety, and that once Silver had the object of her quest, Elizabeth’s pearls, she’d leave him. Patience had always been his, an easy charm for the women who circled him. But with Silver, he’d reached out and taken.

  Nick realized the fine edge of fear, dissecting it. As a child, he both loved his father and hated him. And Lloyd had never been there, always running off without a word. For Nick, adult insecurity was new. The lush pleasure of making love to Silver, of needing her in his life, had startled him. A man in command of his passions and his life, avoiding entanglements and pursuing his goal of serving the Tallchiefs and his brothers, he’d been hit like an avalanche by Silver. Greed was new in the life of Nick Palladm, but he’d fight to keep this woman.

  The image of her dressed in Una’s bndal shift and touching the Tallchief cradle was enough to begin the search for another cradle, handmade and sold by Tallchief to provide for his family.

  In Denver, after he’d returned from salvaging a Palladin’s transport truck, she’d said she loved him. Though drizzled in champagne, the words meant no less to him. He’d felt a little weak then, humbled, and had hoarded the memory inside him. Silver was a woman with enough strength to deny her needs, to protect herself—and to turn her back on love.

  Silver turned suddenly to him, her face flushed, eyes flashing with excitement She spoke quickly as though leaving him a goodbye note before she hurried on with her life. “You’ve got that dark and broody look. I keep forgetting how sensitive you are, and I’m really sorry about yelling at you the other day about using garlic. The odor stopped any progress on my work. But, Nick, I really think I’m getting the hang of this sensory business. I felt a tingle just now, and there was the tiniest bit of sun ray spearing down into the water. I saw a glimmer of gold. It has to be your ring... Your grandmother’s rubies are down there, and I’m getting them. Nick...if your theory is right, Elizabeth’s pearls could be—”

  With that, she dived neatly over the side of the boat and into the water. Nick blinked at the sight of the black water splashing around her bare soles and cursed. The woman he loved wouldn’t be predictable, or easy, but—Then he grabbed an
underwater light and followed her into the cold, dark water.

  Underwater, swimming desperately through the icy water without her wet suit, Silver smiled tightly as Nick’s hand wrapped around her ankle. She paused, felt his hand glide upward on her body. He tugged lightly, signaling that he wanted her to swim to the surface, but Silver turned to him and shook her head.

  In the shadowy water, Nick grimly agreed and Silver blew him an underwater bubble-kiss, before jackknifing her body and swimming toward her goal.

  The ring lay on a rock ledge just ten feet below the surface, glowing in the light Nick had directed toward it. Nick reached for it, placing it on her finger, before diving deeper.

  Beneath the rock ledge was a small opening, too small for Nick, and Silver immediately made for it. Again, Nick grabbed her ankle, tugging her back to him. He shoved the lantern into her hand and, nodding, held her ankle again as she eased into the narrow opening. She understood that he would draw her to safety, that the fear in his expression was for her.

  A school of small silvery fish swooshed by her, roots of fallen trees tangled the entrance, and just there—The lantern’s light caught a dull gleam. Silver placed the lantern on a rock, focused on the gleam and with both hands, reached for it.

  She furiously tugged away the feathery roots, which had held the chest safe for years beneath the water. The small wooden chest, banded by brass and studded with buttons, came into her keeping as though waiting for her.

  Outside the small cave, Nick took the chest and they hurried to the surface, bursting through and gasping for air.

  Nick carefully eased the chest over the side of the boat, placing it on the deck. He turned to Silver, who was clinging, exhausted and gasping, to the small ladder. He cupped her face between his hands, wiped away the droplets on her skin and studied her closely. “Tell me you’re—”

  She sucked air into her lungs and managed to say, “I’m fine.”

  “Thank God.” He looped an arm around her waist and hauled them both upward into the boat, where they sprawled side by side in the dying light, the chest between them.

  Silver placed her hand over the aged, water-soaked wood, Nick’s hand covering hers. She had just enough strength to run her fingers across a brass band and in the dying sunlight, the dark metal gleamed. The chest, which had been her quest for years, was not at that moment as important as the man who believed in her, who supported her. Their gazes locked, the world stilling, spinning beyond the boat, the waves gently lapping at the sides.

  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...

  She had the object of the quest that had driven her for years, haunted her, the chest wet and real beneath her hand. The pearls could rest inside it, or was it a myth? For now, she had to rest, to force herself to breathe and think and push away everything that had burdened her for years. She’d run so hard, living for two women, pushing for the moment, and now Jasmine seemed so far away, and the tall man watching her with green eyes, so near, almost a part of her. Silver closed her eyes and let the gentle rocking motion of the boat, the sound of water lapping at the sides, take her into sleep.

  She awoke to find Nick wrapping a blanket around her, drawing her onto his lap against the lake’s chill, though it was a warm July night. On the shore, frogs signaled to their mates, an owl soared in the night sky and deer drank from the lake. A fish leaped from the murky water, a silver, moonlit flip, a light splash and only ripples marked his foraging for night insects. Silver placed her opened hand upon Nick’s chest, feeling his heart heat, needing him with her. “I don’t want to open it, Nick. Not now. I couldn’t bear to find that everything was a lie, not now. The moment should be special, and I’m—”

  He eased her head into the safe cove of his throat and shoulder. “It’s enough for now, isn’t it? Just looking at the chest and knowing that you’ve gotten it?”

  The chest was a small dark lump on the moonlit deck, its brass dark with age. “It shouldn’t be opened quickly, rather at the right moment. It has waited this long.”

  He stroked the long line of her back, soothing her. “You want to savor your booty.”

  “It came too quickly, the end of the search.”

  “Yes, sometimes the perfect thing you want comes so quickly, you can’t believe it’s happened, and then you know,” he agreed slowly, firmly. “And then you just know.”

  Nick’s big warm hand laced with hers, and Silver settled back against him, content for the first time in years. His heartbeat was solid beneath her hand, the textures of skin and hair on his chest familiar to her cheek, his thighs hard beneath hers. Nick was right; for now, the chest within her grasp, Silver knew that it was enough. She’d finally found a measure of peace, and Nick had helped her.

  She curled more deeply against him, too content and weary to think of anything but rest, and Nick holding her safely.

  Ten

  On her way to Nick’s office, Silver stopped, caught by Elizabeth’s chest. For years, it had cast its web around her life, and now she could actually see it, touch it. After four days in the shadowy air of his living room, the chest’s outer wood had dried and split, the contents unknown. In the midmoming light, lying on Nick’s walnut coffee table, the chest’s brass bands and studs gleamed warmly, invitingly. Silver couldn’t bear to open the chest, not just yet. The moment had to be perfect, a tribute to Elizabeth and to Jasmine...to the Tallchiefs. To rip open the chest did not acknowledge the magic of the legends, of Elizabeth’s love for Liam, of Una’s for Tallchief. When the moment was ripe, Silver would know—

  With one hand, Silver held the large art presentation pad against her and with her other, pushed her fingers through her hair. The chest had been found too quickly after years of preparing, searching. She’d come to the Tallchiefs on false pretenses, moving into their family to enable her to hunt the chest, and now it was here...to open it could end everything, the reason for her staying in Amen Flats... And then there was Nick—powerful, tender, needing her. He was delicate in his way, uncertain of her, his scarred past always lurking nearby. Silver smiled softly. Every time she touched him, Nick was too quiet, tense—as if he treasured each caress, longed for it, took it inside him to hoard.

  Or were the pearls the most important element in her life? She had to decide the value, and the costs of her dreams, her life, and she had to be truthful with Nick...

  Nick’s deep voice came from his office, impatience ringing through it. Silver gathered her large presentation pad closer to her body and turned Nick’s ring on her finger. Since recovering the ring and the chest, Palladin’s towering guardian had insisted on feeding her nourishing meals; he’d dressed her in his T-shirts after her showers, deflected any calls for her and had asked nothing of her. He’d let her set her own pace—sleeping for three days, the nights spent curled safely against him.

  She was pushing now, aware that out there on the lake, Nick had opened a secret within her, that her shaman and seer blood had given her abilities, other than her keen sense of smell. She couldn’t give Palladin anything but her best, and on the fourth day, at dawn, she’d lurched out of Nick’s arms and hurried to his laundry room. She’d grabbed an apple along the way, munching it as ideas flowed through her mind. Dressed in his T-shirt and boxer shorts, she’d hurried to her laboratory, her scents, her work. Her nose itched, ready to work, her mind keen. She was a Tallchief, given talents that she could not use improperly, not here, not on Tallchief land. She would give her best.

  Nick, arms crossed over his bare chest, had followed, leaning against the laboratory doorway. Then he’d left her alone. For the next four days, she’d buried herself in her work, and a week had passed since the chest had come into her keeping. Nick seemed to know when she’d burst out of her lab, driven by hunger. More than once she’d clasped his face in her hands, pushed her lips against his and devoured him, before hurrying on. Though his expression was steam
y, his hands tightening on her, he’d never tried to keep her from her work. At night, exhausted, she’d showered and come to his bed and his arms. There in the night, curled against Nick, her Tallchief tartan over the sheet, gripped possessively in her hand, she forgot everything—except the lovely fragrance of the herbs and lavender and wildflower bouquets that he had waiting. The man knew how to make a woman feel welcome.

  Silver glanced at her workout equipment, covered with a fine layer of dust. If she hadn’t been so tired, the impulse to take Nick, to make love to him, would have suited her better than the equipment. She had to resolve what she had begun and then she could deal with Nicholas Palladin, guardian of the Tallchiefs.

  She considered Elizabeth’s chest; fear kept her from opening it. The pearls, if they were inside, would end a quest that had taken Silver thirteen years to complete. The moment of opening the box had to be just right—

  “Hell, no, you aren’t saving Palladin, Inc. money by delivering a second-class product. You can either have a sample replacement of that insulation material for the jackets on my desk in Denver, or you can overnight it to me here at the Amen Flats office. The alternative is no more business with Palladin, Inc. at any time.... I’ve talked to our quality-control engineer. He’s handed the matter to me, and I am not debating—” Nick, dressed in jeans and a black short-sleeve T-shirt, glanced at Silver as he stalked across his ultramodern office, looking like the bold, powerful, hard knight that he was, ready to fight, ready to serve Palladin, Inc.

  He’ll be a fine beast of a man, haughty and proud and strong as a bear, gnawing at the maiden’s shields...

  Who tended Nick? Silver wondered. Intrigued by the frustrated male in his lair, she wandered into his sunlit office. His scent tore through her—urgent, hot, impatient, wood and leather, soap and that underlying darker scent that caused something to quiver inside her. Packaging Nick into a scent could be profitable—if she wanted to share.