Tallchief: The Hunter

by Cait London

  “And what are you turning your back on, Jillian? And when was the last time you painted the exterior of a house?”

  She knew how to host a party, how to invite guests and seat them to advantage. She knew proper crystal and good linen and smart menus. She knew business and computer graphics. But home upkeep hadn’t been her experience, and Adam knew it; he knew where all her touch points were and he was pushing—She stood and lifted her chin. “I’m going.”

  He swept out a hand in a grand gesture toward the door. “Fare thee well. But next time you wake me up, try to be a little bit more considerate, will you? I’m sensitive.”

  She scoffed at that. “You’ve got to make something of yourself, Adam. You’re forty years old and not a job with benefits in sight.”

  “I’m old enough to know what’s best for me,” he stated, locking his gaze with hers. “Oh, I love kissing you, Jillian—when you kiss me back.”

  She turned quickly, fearing he would see her blush. Then Adam’s lips were warm against her neck, just here and just there, one side and then the other. She fought leaning back against him, from arching her throat to allow him more. “Come with me to breakfast and I’ll think about letting you reform me,” he whispered against her ear.

  She turned back on impulse, surprised by the need to comfort him. She was a woman who planned and tried and methodically massaged her life into being livable. Yet there she was, fingers speared into Adam’s hair, pulling back the thick, shaggy mass. His eyes narrowed on her, warningly, and yet she kept her hold, studying his face, searching it. The bones were there—high cheekbones, deep-set eyes, those slashing black eyebrows, a nose that wasn’t exactly straight and that hard, grim mouth. “You’ve taken everything from me, Adam. I’m not likely to give more. But I’m not going to be responsible for you disappointing your family. You must not have wanted to open that security box, because you’d left it alone for years. But you did—for Liam—and you brought back a trunk that means so much to the entire family—lost heirlooms and legends. That only made you more dear to them. You’re brooding about Sarah, and one day, you’ll pick up and run. Now you go to Elspeth’s breakfast, and you listen to what they have to say about those heirlooms. Don’t you dare just drop the truth on Liam and a trunk that holds so many answers and then swagger away, untouched. Don’t run from this, Adam.”

  That hot gray look glanced away, avoiding hers. Then it slashed back again, cold as steel. Each word struck at her. “I don’t run.”

  There wasn’t a kind line on his face, his mouth pressed tightly, his gray eyes furious. Anger heated his body, vibrating it; the coils of his wrath wrapping around her. But into her came creeping a softer emotion, one to heal and gentle. She moved her hands slowly over his face, feeling those glossy lashes brush her skin, the hard bones beneath the weathered skin, the stubble of his jaw. He looked down at her warily as she studied the textures, found them with her fingertips. There was power there, the set of his jaw, that pulse beating heavily at his throat—she stroked a fingertip over it and Adam frowned. An incredible sweet sense of feminine power swept over her, intoxicating her. He hadn’t moved since she’d touched him, as if he were suspended by that light, seeking movements of her hands.

  She saw the wary pain inside, felt the ache, and knew that Adam had trusted few people. He’d been betrayed by a woman he treasured, the discovery was fresh and warring within him. “It won’t hurt, you know, to give a little of yourself to them.”

  “I have nothing to give. It isn’t there.”

  “Find it. You’re a hunter. You’ve dived for treasures off the coast of Florida, according to the preschool teacher. And Australia, where you were bitten by a shark. You’ve found a boy, separated from his family in a flood. You’ve tracked poachers. You’ve done so much hunting, Adam. Isn’t it time you found what is within yourself? Maybe this is the place to do it. Maybe you can start all over—right here. Sam—”

  Adam’s frown darkened, and then his hands circled her wrists, taking her hands from him. “‘Sam,”’ he repeated flatly.

  The word was slashed with frustration, and Adam turned his back to her. He jammed his hands into his jeans’ back pockets and braced his legs apart. He looked like a warrior ready to fight; he looked like a lonely man without an anchor.

  Jillian found her open hand upon his back, covered by his sweatshirt, the powerful muscles slid beneath her touch. “It will be shearing time right away. The flock isn’t that big and it won’t take that much work. But meanwhile—”

  Adam’s body tensed. “You think I’m afraid of work.”

  Before she could answer, he turned slowly to her. “You’re not afraid of me now, are you?”

  That question stunned her. They’d been talking about his life and now he returned the probe into her fears. “Well, I—”

  He pulled on his old army coat, lighter weight than the peacoat beside it. Above them, on a shelf, the Tallchief plaid and kilt were folded neatly. “Let’s just go to Elspeth’s and see what she has to say, shall we?”

  “Wear the plaid, would you? It means so much to Elspeth.”

  Adam lifted an eyebrow. “And you? Will you come?”

  She didn’t answer, because in the last few moments, she didn’t know what meant the most to her—revenge and the past, or Adam’s tenderness and the tantalizing kisses.

  They tasted of a hunger she couldn’t afford. Not with Adam.

  Six

  Excitement danced around Elspeth as she hurried to welcome Adam and Jillian into her home. Sybil and Liam were already in Elspeth’s weaving room, seated at the large, rough wooden table. The color skeins of wool, the huge spinning wheel, and shelves of dyes and bags of unspun wool seemed to create the perfect setting for sorting out heritage. Bundles of dried herbs hung from the rafters, scenting the room, while morning slid through the windows to softly drape it in color. Excitement coursed through the usually serene Elspeth as she hurried to her kitchen. “Go right into the weaving room. The tea is in the pot, and I’ll bring your breakfast in here. Alek and Duncan have the children at the old place—I think they’re constructing a super-duper Sam the Truck highway set—Ah, good! You’ve worn the plaid, that was thoughtful on a day like today. So did Liam.”

  When Adam put his hands on Jillian’s light coat to remove it, she stiffened. He pushed away the surge of anger that she’d been mishandled and he wasn’t on her “trust” list. He pulled it away, aware that Elspeth was watching as she passed with two heaping plates of food. “Jillian was just driving by my place this morning. That’s why she was nice enough to give me a ride on her way over here. Wasn’t that good of her?” he asked, teasing Jillian.

  There was nothing sweet or nice in the stare she shot him.

  “You’ve always given the truth, and nothing less will serve you now, Adam,” Elspeth said gently.

  He removed his plaid and coat and gave it to Sybil’s waiting hands. “I don’t know what you mean,” he said, aware of Jillian’s close look.

  “What do you mean, Elspeth?” she asked, looking from Elspeth to Adam and back again.

  “He’s bred to keep his honor and his pride and the truth. He’s a Tallchief, and a hunter. He’ll find what he seeks, just as he did this chest,” Elspeth stated with a smile.

  “Elspeth the Elegant,” Adam said, teasing her with her childhood name, which he’d learned from her siblings. Then because she seemed oddly a part of him, he bent to kiss her cheek; she gave him a light nudge with her elbow that said she’d grown up with brothers teasing her.

  The handcrafted cradle was filled and waiting on the table. Liam shook his head as Adam and Jillian sat next to each other on the bench seats.

  “Tea,” Liam stated sharply.

  He slid a dark look to the large yellow pot on the table and a meaningful frown to the brew in his cup.

  “It won’t hurt you to have tea this morning, Liam. When we were growing up, my brothers attended my tea parties, and since you’ve missed your share then, you can h
ave it now,” Elspeth said, not at all offended after years of her brothers condemning the brew as “hot water over grass.” “It’s a special morning, after all, isn’t it? To resolve the past and look forward to gentler times?”

  “Not everyone wants to revisit the past,” Adam stated, and resented the harshness in his tone. Jillian still thought of him as a liar, the cause of her family’s ruin and Tom’s death. Adam had just discovered that he loved her this morning, and the clash between the two emotions were certain to bring more pain.

  Jillian poured the tea into the waiting cups and handed one to Adam. “Drink.”

  With its loom and spinning wheel and balls of colored yarn waiting in a basket, its fragrant bundles of herbs hanging from the rafters, the room was a woman’s domain and he was clearly under a woman’s orders. Adam wrestled with taking orders from anyone, and settled for a long, shuddering sigh; it effectively noted his protest. “Liam should have the cradle,” he said.

  Jillian nudged him with her elbow, a reminder to wait for a ceremony he didn’t understand. “Let’s eat first.”

  “It’s so like men to want to hurry through,” Sybil said. “But if we’re patient and match the journals, Una’s and Elizabeth’s, to the items in the cradle, we’ll be richer for it.”

  Elspeth had her say. “And you had our husbands down at Maddy’s for half the night. Not that we mind, but you do owe us. Most likely we’ll be taking it out in baby-sitting.”

  Adam realized that he had just been given a family tit-for-tat lesson. “Could it be, Elspeth, dear cousin, that I’ve circled the world, just to be put in my place?”

  “Aye. I’ve no doubt, I’ll have to bring you up right, just as I have my brothers. In fact, I’ve missed the challenge. And the sweet victory.”

  “Uh.” Liam’s grunt said he could wait, and his expression said he was still dwelling on Sarah’s deceit.

  Adam jammed a wedge of pancake into his mouth and chewed while he decided on a comeback for Jillian’s earlier elbow nudge reminder—to keep quiet during the sharing of their heirlooms. He settled for a stealthy caress on Jillian’s bottom, giving it a gentle pat; his pride eased a bit as he watched her blush rise. When those furious golden eyes lashed at him, he served her his most innocent smile.

  He placed the box he’d carried on the center of the table. “Someone gave me something Sarah wanted me to have. You might as well add it to the rest.”

  “Her things belong only to you,” Liam stated. “I want no part of them.”

  Adam turned to his brother, torn between loving him and defending Sarah.

  “It’s for you, Adam. From a woman who cared enough to save it for you,” Jillian stated.

  “Let’s begin,” Elspeth said, clearing away the plates. “First of all, the cradle is lovely and definitely Tallchief’s work, crafted to sell and support his growing family. Those are his marks, and that of a few teething babies.”

  She studied the dove and the hawk feathers, and nodded to Sybil. She quickly turned the pages of Elizabeth’s journal to find a passage. She read, “’Twas no delight that I took in the man who came hunting me. He knew well enough I had secretly borne his son, and he wanted not only the babe, but myself in marriage. I couldn’t deny his claim, for my baby wore his mark. ’Twas my penalty for taking Liam as he lay on the new land’s mountainous ground, staked there by outlaws, who would have me do the deed to save my sister’s life. And so I did, and when the babe came, it was gladly so. That thick black thatch of hair spoke of Tallchief blood, and the gray eyes of Scots, when my own are blue. Aye, that hunter came to England after his child, and me. Later, he hunted more than my body and our child—he came after my heart.”’

  Jillian’s hand went to her throat. “You mean she took him against his will? Surely not.”

  “Aye, she did,” Elspeth said with a nod. “It was either that or her sister would die, and herself. She knew their fate would be worse in the outlaws’ hands, and she also struck a bargain with their leader for Liam’s safety. Elizabeth knew how to challenge and barter…she caught and held the outlaws’ remaining honor. But Liam didn’t like a woman protecting him, let alone taking him. Go ahead, Sybil. Read.”

  Sybil’s finger ran down the lovely old script. “‘When he forced me to come back to the new land with him, I had kept with me a dove’s feather from my family castle. It was pure white, as pure as I was before I took Liam, and unlike the gray birds found here. Then, here, I found a hawk’s. My Liam reminded me of that hawk, so fierce and strong. Though he was well pleased with his son, he was still furious with me for taking what belonged only to him, for taking what was his to give, his seed. I would not have our son know of the strife between us, or how he came to be, so I gave the feather to Liam as a peace offering.

  “‘He showed me one night by our campfire how the feathers, so different, suited each other. First by turning them back to back, as first we slept like that, angry with each other. Then slowly, with time, the hawk feather turned to gently curve close to the smaller dove’s, a perfect fit. ’Twas a legend his mother, Una, had taught him—The woman who brings the hawk and the dove feathers to the hunter shall tame him in gentler ways. He will be her strength, protecting her, but she has her own powers, most tender and loving. ’Twill not be easy for the hawk and the dove, one bred to hunt, and the other of a gentler nature. Together they grow into each other’s lives, and love will be born.”’

  “That’s lovely,” Jillian said as Adam brushed a tear from her cheek with his thumb. “My own family has nothing so lovely.”

  “They had you,” he said firmly, and that quiet statement shook the room. He couldn’t bear not touching her then, and took her hand for all to see, right there on the table. His clasp was loose enough that she could remove hers, to make a choice, and instead Jillian’s remained. He searched the faces around the table and found no surprise to match his own. “Get on with it.”

  Who needed more? he wondered as he listened to Sybil’s genealogy chart and the new journals there, traced the items from Tallchief and Liam, from the West to Alaska and back again, each carefully pegged with a legend or a story.

  When the room was silent, Liam stated firmly, “The cradle is for both of us. I can’t keep it filled all the time, Adam. You’ll have to do your share.”

  “I gave up that idea a long time ago.”

  “Well, pick it up again.” Apparently, Adam thought, brothers didn’t know how to keep their place.

  Jillian glanced at Adam and their hands, locked together in plain sight on the wooden table, and as if realizing the implications, slid hers away.

  “Oh, sorry,” she said nervously as she rose from the table and hurried to get her coat from the closet. “I’ve forgotten that I have a conference call with Sam this morning. I have to go. Adam, you’re staying, of course,” she stated more firmly with a narrowed, meaningful look.

  He understood perfectly. Sam wasn’t calling this morning. She didn’t want Adam near; not only this morning’s events lay between them, but she had brought the feathers to him—her enemy. The man she should want to destroy. She was in flight now, fearing what had risen between them and fearing herself. Going after her would not help. Jillian was a private person, and sharing herself caused her to feel endangered. To her, he was danger itself.

  He longed to hold her in his arms, but instead nodded. “Thanks for the ride.”

  “Oh, yes,” she answered absently, her face pale. “Goodbye.”

  Adam turned back to the others and did not shield his mood. “There’s something that runs between us,” he said simply. “And it’s old and not a smooth course.”

  “Then set one,” Liam warned. “She’s half in love with Sam already.”

  “More than half. When she speaks of him, she glows,” Adam murmured darkly.

  “You’ll have to be sweet and understand the journey she must make alone. Today is not tomorrow, but it’s not the past, either.” Elspeth moved the box with the feathers back to him. “This i
s yours. All of the legends have proven true so far—Liam’s the fire and the flint last of all. Unless you are afraid—”

  When Adam leveled a cool look at her, she said lightly, “Let’s get on with it, shall we?”

  Adam tried to concentrate on the heritage spread in front of him, but his mind was filled with Jillian. She’d been shocked at the tale of how Liam had been staked to the ground, with Elizabeth, the English lady, taking him without his permission.

  If that had shocked her, Adam’s restless dreams of Jillian pouring herself over him, would have—He met Elspeth’s gaze, the wisdom of it, and knew that loving Jillian would be no simple journey. Not with the past and Sam standing between them. He’d fought a town with the truth, and had lost that when he wanted a woman. It was best that he told her soon.

  What could he say? “Jillian, I’m really Sam. I wanted to keep you here, and so I arranged work for you.”

  He shook his head. Now, that would raise her self-image, wouldn’t it? A man hiring her because he wanted her and not her skills. She was good, just starting out in a life she wanted, and—

  Adam shook his head. He couldn’t hurt her that way. He’d think of something else. Meanwhile, his personal tension had made him snap at Steve, and he’d regretted it instantly. He’d apologized, but he couldn’t allow others to suffer for his torn emotions and sleepless nights. Deception hadn’t ever been his game, nor had the hunger that pursued him every moment. He hadn’t planned to fall in love, but there it was, just like the chest and Sarah’s secret.

  He didn’t notice Liam pouring more tea into his cup, and didn’t notice the taste as he drank. Instead, he lifted an ornate beaded band and studied it, running his thumb across the sky-blue beads. He thought of how it would look over Jillian’s gleaming auburn hair and sipped more tea and tasted her kiss once more. He had tasted a fusion of needs, man and woman, as if everything else had been placed aside, including the past.