by Cait London
“You’d Fit In With The Tallchiefs Perfectly,
“if you’d put out one little bit of effort,” Michelle said. “I won’t go away until I have answers, you know.”
“What would you know of fitting in?” Liam asked too sharply, resenting the anger and frustration this woman could jerk from him. “You think you fit into this small town? You think you fit into my son’s life? You think you can push and shove and place people in neat little boxes and everything will be just fine?”
“Friday night, the Tallchiefs are having a party. Be there. It’s time you got to know them.”
She marched out of his house and slammed the door behind her. His instincts told him to capture that hot-tempered, pride-filled witch, to claim that soft mouth, to fill his hands with her hair and keep her close until she—
The woman was pure trouble. Trouble that he didn’t need….
Dear Reader,
Silhouette is celebrating our 20th anniversary in 2000, and the latest powerful, passionate, provocative love stories from Silhouette Desire are as hot as that steamy summer weather!
For August’s MAN OF THE MONTH, the fabulous BJ James begins her brand-new miniseries, MEN OF BELLE TERRE. In The Return of Adams Cade, a self-made millionaire returns home to find redemption in the arms of his first love.
Beloved author Cait London delivers another knockout in THE TALLCHIEFS miniseries with Tallchief: The Homecoming, also part of the highly sensual Desire promotion BODY & SOUL. And Desire is proud to present Bride of Fortune by Leanne Banks, the launch title of FORTUNE’S CHILDREN: THE GROOMS, another exciting spin-off of the bestselling Silhouette FORTUNE’S CHILDREN continuity miniseries.
BACHELOR BATTALION marches on with Maureen Child’s The Last Santini Virgin, in which a military man’s passion for a feisty virgin weakens his resolve not to marry. In Name Only is how a sexy rodeo cowboy agrees to temporarily wed a pregnant preacher’s daughter in the second book of Peggy Moreland’s miniseries TEXAS GROOMS. And Christy Lockhart reconciles a once-married couple who are stranded together in a wintry cabin during One Snowbound Weekend….
So indulge yourself by purchasing all six of these summer delights from Silhouette Desire…and read them in air-conditioned comfort.
Enjoy!
Joan Marlow Golan
Senior Editor, Silhouette Desire
Cait London
TALLCHIEF: THE HOMECOMING
To my readers
who have enjoyed the Cait London Tallchief series
and asked for more.
Books by Cait London
Silhouette Desire
*The Loving Season #502
*Angel vs. MacLean #593
The Pendragon Virus #611
*The Daddy Candidate #641
†Midnight Rider #726
The Cowboy #763
Maybe No, Maybe Yes #782
†The Seduction of Jake Tallman #811
Fusion #871
The Bride Says No #891
Mr. Easy #919
Miracles and Mistletoe #968
‡The Cowboy and the Cradle #1006
‡Tallchief’s Bride #1021
‡The Groom Candidate #1093
‡The Seduction of Fiona Tallchief #1135
‡Rafe Palladin: Man of Secrets #1160
‡The Perfect Fit #1183
†Blaylock’s Bride #1207
†Rio: Man of Destiny #1233
†Typical Male #1255
§Last Dance #1285
‡Tallchief: The Homecoming #1310
Silhouette Yours Truly
Every Girl’s Guide To…
Every Groom’s Guide To…
Silhouette Books
Spring Fancy 1994
“Lightfoot and Loving”
Maternity Leave 1998
“The Nine-Month Knight”
‡Tallchief for Keeps
CAIT LONDON
lives in the Missouri Ozarks but loves to travel the Northwest’s gold rush/cattle drive trails every summer. She enjoys going on research trips, meeting people and going to Native American dances. Ms. London is an avid reader who loves to paint, play with computers and grow herbs (particularly scented geraniums right now). She’s a national bestselling and award-winning author, and she has also written historical romances under another pseudonym. Three is her lucky number; she has three daughters, and the events in her life have always been in threes. “I love writing for Silhouette,” Cait says. “One of the best perks about all this hard work is the thrilling reader response and the warm, snug sense that I have given readers an enjoyable, entertaining gift.”
FAMILY TREE
Tallchief and Una Fearghus
(A Sioux chieftain captures a Scots bondwoman, who tames him.) 5 children
* * *
Liam and Elizabeth Montclair
(As a virgin, the English lady would inherit an empire; to save her sister from torture, she takes an unwilling staked-out half-breed. Out for revenge, he finds love.) 3 children
* * *
Ewan and Josette Tallchief
(Her Alaskan salmon fishing boat wrecked, fiery Josette must depend on a man she detests, Ewan. Her husband of convenience doesnt make her life easy.) 3 children
* * *
Jamie and Tina Tallchief
(Whimsy store owner Tina isnt prepared for a rough woodsman with a criminal record. When shes in danger, he kidnaps her for a dogsled ride that ends in a secluded cabin.) 2 children
* * *
Legends of the Tallchiefs
LiamWhen a man and a woman, equally matched, strike against each other, fire will fly just as two flints striking sparks off each other.
THE FLINT AND THE FIRE
“When a man and a woman, equally matched, strike against each other, fire will fly—just as two flints striking sparks off each other. ’Tis a game, finding the strength of a man and challenging that truth. I am a woman used to having my way, and being captured by a man who had fathered my child was no easy matter. How I battled with him, that great hard man, Liam Tallchief, scarred with life. He did not yield to me, nor would I have him be less than he was. But in the end, he filled my heart and a softness grew between us. I knew no other would make me feel so alive. No other could take my heart as Liam Tallchief. When he held our son, and that gentleness came upon him, I knew—I claimed him with a ring, and marked him for my own. For his part, he gave me two flints, the tinderbox marked with the Tallchief symbol, and a love that burns true.”
—Elizabeth Tallchief
Contents
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Prologue
Please forgive me, I should have told you that you were a stolen baby, but I couldn’t.
The paper in Liam’s trembling hand rattled, the woman’s dainty handwriting blurring before his eyes, “Liam” the envelope had read, tucked into the pages of Mary Cartwright’s beloved Bible. Mary had died when Liam was only six, and the years after her death had been sheer hell. Reuben—her husband—had little patience for a child, and Liam’s life had consisted of scrambling for food and clothing. He’d been far too young for the long hours worked at Reuben’s gas station.
Liam was a man now, at thirty-four, sorting possessions after Reuben’s funeral. Hard and bullying Reuben had outlived Mary, as well as Liam’s wife, who had passed away in childbirth.
Liam swallowed, the memory of his wife, Karen, tugging at his heart. Mary would have loved Karen, both sweet
and loving women. Liam scrubbed his hand across his forehead, damning himself again for yielding to her plea for a baby: his son’s birth had taken Karen’s life.
The small cluttered apartment behind the gas station offered little comfort for a man in the lonely hours of a Wyoming night. Liam’s hand curled around his son’s small plastic truck—a reminder that life went on and was good, and children could be raised by a single father and be well loved. “J.T.,” Jacob Thomas, was only two and sleeping quietly while Liam dealt with the past. Liam studied his hand—big and scarred and darkly tanned, a workman’s hand holding a delicate paper that he sensed would rip away his life. The mirror in the shadows reflected a harsh face, high cheekbones, searing gray eyes, a set jaw and a shaggy cut of thick, black hair—a contrast to Mary’s and Reuben’s fair complexions. As a young man, Liam had towered over Reuben’s stocky build, and the abuse had stopped.
Liam listened as J.T. sighed in his sleep, then returned to the letter Mary had hidden in a place Reuben would never look—the Bible. The letter to Liam had waited for years, and he braced himself to continue reading….
My own baby was stillborn that night, a little son with blond curls. Reuben had been drinking heavily, yelling at me for my failure. I’d lost babies before, and Reuben had no son, which he thought made his mark as a man. There was no doctor. Reuben said we couldn’t afford one for “women’s work.” I took drugs to escape the pain and Reuben’s fury and held my baby close for comfort. I remember that night, the way the lightning seared the windows, the thunder crashing. Reuben was muttering then, holding his whisky and staring out into the night. He said they were fools, whoever was driving across the mountain river, he’d make them pay a flat fee for pulling them out with his wrecker.
Liam inhaled slowly, his hands shaking as he read Mary’s letter: Then he was back, dripping with rain and taking away my baby, replacing him with you. “Let them think he’s dead,” Reuben said. I wept horribly. Then you nudged my breast, and milk dampened my nightgown and I took you for my own, loving you instantly. I guessed your age then to be about two weeks. We waited two more before asking a doctor to examine you and produce a birth certificate.
I knew it was wrong, but I wanted you more than my life. Reuben had said the car had crashed in to the river and there were no surviors, just you, and now you were his—and mine—a son at last. How selfish I was, wanting the baby suckling at my breast, cuddling you against the ache in my heart. “Liam” was embroidered upon your sleepers, and I insisted on that for your name. Reuben has forgotten the chest that was found with you, but it is hidden beneath the boards I cut in the bedroom floor. I have no reason to believe that Reuben will ever want a home away from here, or his gas station, so the chest will be safe. The sheriff investigating the accident said your parents were drowned, washed away in the torrent after their car went into the river. Their bodies were found, and the baby presumed dead. But I held you tightly and was silent, fearing they would take you away.
“Their names were Tallchief, Liam. Your name is Liam Tallchief, not Cartwright. I love you. Forgive me. Mary.”
One
One year later—
Liam Tallchief wasn’t in the mood for the classy woman on his doorstep. The commanding tone to her slightly husky voice reminded him of Reuben’s bullish demands.
A year ago, Liam had torn Reuben Cartwright’s name from him; he’d taken his rightful name—Tallchief—for himself and his three-year-old son, and no one was ordering him around again…especially not a woman a foot shorter than his six-foot four-height.
She looked at her gold wristwatch, an expensive bangle style that slid on her slender wrist, and the myriad flash of her diamond ring hit his face. She glanced meaningfully up at him, impatient to have him tend her needs. Appearing to be in her early thirties, the woman was used to giving orders—and Liam didn’t like taking them. She hadn’t liked that his service station was closed, but then, at seven o’clock in the evening, the residents of Amen Flats, Wyoming were settling into their homes, escaping the late-July heat. Liam recognized the expression of a person used to commanding others, and he didn’t like it.
At thirty-five, Liam knew his priorities: The green-eyed woman with a heart-shaped face could wait; his son’s needs came first.
“My son is eating now. When he’s finished we’ll go and get your car. Or you can use my phone to call anyone you like,” Liam said coolly. He’d grown up with people knocking on his door, asking for towing help with that hot, frustrated look. Back then, Reuben didn’t care if the son he had stolen was fed and warm.
Son. A momentary darkness shrouded Liam, the recent discovery of his birthright still raw. As a two-week-old infant, he’d taken a dead baby’s place in Mary’s loving arms. His name was Tallchief now, not Cartwright.
The woman’s restless stance, her hand brushing her hair back from her face, nettled Liam. Perhaps the summer thunderstorm brewing high on Tallchief Mountain that caused him to brood…perhaps it was the woman, looking as if she had everything and wanting more.
“I saw your note on the station door, to come here—the house behind the station. I’m trying to surprise a friend, not ask them to come fetch me. I suppose you have the only towing service in town,” the woman said as she stood in the doorway of his rented house. She scanned the main street of Amen Flats, Wyoming, the sunlight glistening on her blond hair and highlighting the dark-brown of her brows and her lashes. “I’d rather no one saw me like this.”
He caught the expensive flash of tiny, bold earrings and the phrase no one, and tossed the term aside; the wealthy often dismissed those who served their needs into the “no one” bin. The tiny town nestled at the foot of the mountains wouldn’t call to her, a city woman, as it did to Liam.
For it was in Amen Flats that he sensed he would find peace, where he had to make peace for his son’s sake. A man who had been raised in one identity only to discover his life had been a lie, Liam had done his share of brooding. He’d changed his name to Tallchief and he’d moved here, to try to do his best. He’d missed a heritage, and for Jacob Thomas, “J.T.,” Liam would try to learn about his family.
“You don’t say much, do you?” Standing in the doorway of his rented house, the woman shifted impatiently from the foot clad in torn hose to the one in an expensive gray heel. The rap-rap of her hand against her costly, overstuffed shoulder tote said she wasn’t used to waiting, her diamonds glittering in the late July sunset. Heat had flushed her face, darkening the strands of blond hair on her cheek. The waves rippled tightly, impatiently propped onto the top of her head with an office rubber band. The plain rubber band contrasted the long, lean expensive line of her gray pinstripe suit jacket and skirt. The diamond solitaire nestled at her throat cost more than his tow truck, but J.T.’s evening meal was more important than a rich woman’s impatience.
“Daddy?” At Liam’s side, J.T. wrapped his arm around his father’s leg; his other hand caught the loop fashioned on his father’s loose denim pants. Dressed in a T-shirt and cutoff jean shorts, J.T.’s gray eyes widened fearfully up at the woman. J.T. had seen enough of suit-clad women who had come to take him away from his father, “for better care.”
No one was taking Liam’s son from him. He’d had enough of people prying into his business when his wife died and J.T. was just a baby.
The woman glanced quickly from father to son. “You look just alike. Scowlers, both of you.”
“You’re not exactly smiling yourself. It’s okay, Son. Finish your supper,” Liam said, rubbing the top of his son’s glossy black hair. J.T. often needed reassurance, and Liam knew how it felt to be young and frightened—only Reuben had been short on tender, loving care.
Liam pushed back that quiver of hatred snaking through him. He glanced at the dark clouds topping Tallchief Mountain. Less than a year before, Liam had learned that he wasn’t Reuben’s son, but that his rightful name was Tallchief—that he was the missing baby of the deceased Tallchief couple swept away in the river,
after their car wreck. His entire life had been a lie…his son would have the truth.
“It’s a little late for him to be eating, isn’t it?” the woman asked, and blew a long rippling strand away from her face. Sunset caught sparks in blond hair and formed a halo of rippling wisps around her head; the woman’s hair was naturally curly and most likely unable to be tamed.
“Could be,” Liam answered, in the way that he knew avoided more questions. Earlier J.T. had been napping so peacefully on his little cot at the station that Liam was able to finish a tune-up job. He set his most intricate work around the boy’s sleep and play patterns. “You’re welcome to come in.”
“Do you have air-conditioning?” she asked, as if setting contract terms, and pushed up her suit’s long sleeve to study her watch. Her nose wrinkled distastefully as she glanced down to her torn hose and wiggled her toes. “I hate being dirty and sweaty,” she stated adamantly. “You look like a Tallchief. My friend Silver Tallchief Palladin sent a picture of the family to me…they’re quite impressive all decked out in kilts and tartans. It’s easy to see you’re related somehow. Silver is a cousin. Her husband is a Palladin and a brother to the man who married Fiona.”
She’d come to his doorstep, demanding help, and without knowing it, had slapped him with his problems. With shaggy black hair and smoky-gray eyes, Liam was a perfect reflection of the Amen Flats Tallchiefs, but he preferred to keep to himself. Reuben had taught him that—that a shroud of cool distance was safer than family. The extensive Tallchief family hadn’t pushed, but Liam hadn’t offered, either. He wasn’t certain how he fit into the Tallchief bloodline, but he knew after one look at Duncan, Calum, Birk, Fiona and Elspeth that he was related.