by Cait London
Fiona listened to Joel’s footsteps moving up her stairway to her apartment. It was December now, a storm brewing on the mountains. Cody was in Denver, visiting his uncles and grandmother during school break.
Joel was being very careful, determined to relate to Cody, and sometimes the task was not easy. Joel wanted harmony in his life, and Fiona respected that and knew his need for structure.
She smiled, snuggling into her bed. Life with Joel in it was pure delicious excitement. An unexpected boyish grin could take her heart spinning; one look could find them locked in passion.
Joel opened her apartment door, closed it, and she listened to the sounds of him packing away groceries in the kitchen. So. Palladin’s Iron Man wanted to cook breakfast, did he? Fiona smiled as the carpet muffled his footsteps on his way to her bedroom.
He stood at the door, outlined—a big, broad-shouldered man, still uncertain of their intimacy, of what to say and when, of handling her. He found her in the darkness and relaxed slightly. When he undressed, Fiona marveled at the powerful, lean line of his back, his hip, his thigh.
He came to her, needing her, and she opened her arms, taking him. She smiled against his shoulder as he began, “Sweetheart, let me look at you...just let me look at you.”
While Joel had a weekend planned with her, scheduling it carefully between breakfast in bed, visiting with the other Tallchiefs and taking her out to dinner and dancing—and probably happily repairing the noisy motor on her refrigerated display window—she fully intended to demolish his harmony and ravish him. Joel was the best, most excitement in her lifetime, and so delightful when caught unaware.
Yet there was peace in her now, an unexpected bonus to this new level of intimacy with Joel.
She glanced at Una’s chest as Joel’s trembling hands found her. Then the magic circle will be as true as their love. With Joel moving over her, desperate for her, his body heating, she did believe in magic and love. They’d started so fast, unaware that intimacy would come with and after the passion. Would it last?
“Lovely, just lovely. He’s been missing for a week, and now he’s in the hospital, and not a word to me.” Fiona crushed the Denver newspaper in her fist. Joel’s face had been urgent as he’d mediated a standoff between the police and a desperate man. According to the headline, Joel was the only person who had influence over and the respect of the troubled man, who had already shot one policeman.
“Joel and Cody have been missing for the past week, and not a word from him. My brothers knew it, they had to, and Alek, as the editor of the newspaper had to have known.” Furious with Joel, Fiona whipped out of her shop, leaped into her Jeep and roared off toward Tallchief Lake.
Pride had not let her call after the first few attempts. She wouldn’t have Joel on a platter. She’d worried, hadn’t slept and had ached for him.
She geared down for a curve, eased over a small bank of snow and onto the pristine snow of the road. Christmas had been beautiful, but now Joel had shredded that lovely peace.
Fiona dashed away the tears burning her eyes. Without explanation to her, he’d packed up Cody and disappeared. So much for trust. So much for legends of love.
On the snow the Jeep angled, slid and lost traction, coming to rest gently against a tree. Fiona stepped into the cold mist and ran to the lake where the Tallchiefs had pledged to stay together. “Aye!” She could still hear their voices raised to the night storm.
Was her heart tearing? Why hadn’t Joel called? Hadn’t he needed her just as desperately as she needed him?
She dashed aside a snow-laden branch. Fine. She’d had her physical needs satisfied, so did he. What about the tenderness snaring her deeper with each day?
She’d gotten what she’d wanted—lust. Nothing more, or less. She could cope ... live without Joel and the magic that had just begun. Couldn’t she?
Joel grimaced as the fresh wound tore slightly in his shoulder. Though bandaged and treated, the healing flesh did not like Joel’s guiding Dante down the road to Tallchief Lake. He’d wanted to come to her before the story broke in the newspapers.
“Damn.” Joel noted the Jeep on the slight incline, resting against the tree. If Fiona was hurt—
He saw her at the edge of the fierce, wind-swept lake, whitecaps tossing furiously on the black water, night creeping down the mountains. Joel let Dante pick his way through the trees, finding the old horse trail in the snow. He held his breath as Fiona pivoted, facing him, her body taut as though preparing for battle.
“What are you doing here?” Fiona demanded rawly, wrapping her arms around herself and bracing her legs apart.
Joel dismounted, his breath hissing as, beneath the bandages, the wound tore again. He walked slowly to her, the snow drifting between them. This was the woman he loved, that he would always love, and she felt betrayed. “You’re cold. I brought your Tallchief plaid. Here, take it, you’re freezing.”
Oh, she’d been crying; he’d hurt her.
Fiona grabbed the plaid as if not wanting him to have any part of her life, and pain slammed into Joel, worse than the new bullet wound in his shoulder.
She swirled the Tallchief plaid around her and looked off into the lake, her head high. “Leave me.”
He could no more leave her than stop breathing. Joel moved behind her, longing to bury his face in those soft, black, wind-tossed strands, desperate to hold her and know that she was safe.
Fiona pivoted, turning on him, her gray eyes misting with tears. “We set out to have each other, didn’t we? We’ve done that quite thoroughly and now—”
“I love you,” Joel stated, his heart racing. He couldn’t bear to hear her say that their love was over. “I’ll always love you.”
Fiona trembled and gathered the plaid closer to her, the wind whipping at it. “Aye and blast, you do, Joel Palladin. That was no loving man who ran off without a word.”
Anger ran through her, her words slicing him like a hot sword. She tilted her head, slanting him a look. “First I lost my parents, and I was so angry with them for leaving me. I understand that is a natural reaction. Then you came into my life and I found—for a time—peace. Peace, Joel. Do you know how rare that is in my life? Absolute, utter peace and an excitement that tugs me into the next day? The freedom to leap upon you and have you, to tell you things I’ve kept secret all these years? My fears? What was your plan? To structure a seduction, and gain my trust, and then destroy it? Was this all a game to you, built with careful, methodical little blocks that you could rip away? Do you know that I actually began to like the security of your schedules? Is that what Palladin pride is? To seduce and to hurt?”
Joel battled her jarring thrust and the weave of nausea passing through him. The doctor had prescribed rest, but Fiona was more important than Joel’s life.
He tossed his pride aside. “I was afraid for Cody. Paul Sims had just lost his son, and in his twisted mind he thought I shouldn’t have had a healthy one. Sims lost total control in Denver, and I had to act fast. He respected me at one time—and I understand his grief about his son’s fatal illness.”
Fiona’s head went back. “You could have told me, or called. Not one word in a week, Joel. After a steady diet of sex, I would think you could call.”
Sex. The word was cold and hard, slamming into him. “Your brothers thought it was best—and so did I—to keep you out of it. You’re not exactly the stay-at-home-and-be-safe kind of woman, and I didn’t want you hurt.”
Fiona stared at her boots. “I’m supposed to believe this. I’m not helpless, Joel. I would have gone with you. I’m good, really good in a pinch. You’re a boarder still, keeping secrets from me.”
Nothing was more important than now, that she believed he loved her. He traced the smooth line of her jaw, set with tension. “I’ll always love you, Fiona.”
“Aye and blast,” she muttered and began to cry. “Why didn’t you call? Don’t you know that a part of my heart died when I read that newspaper?”
The wo
und in his shoulder waylaid him, drugs making him imagine Fiona was undressed by the campfire—that she was smiling down at him, that she was safe against him. He cleared his throat, uneasy with his weakness. “There was a small matter of a bullet—”
Fiona’s head shot up, steel gray eyes ripping down then up his body. “Where? Where did it hit you? Why didn’t you want me with you?”
“First question—my shoulder. Second question—I wanted you like hell—”
Fiona’s hand sliced across his explanation. “Don’t tell me. You walked out of the hospital the minute you could. Which shoulder? I want to know, because I’m going to hit the other one. Oh, Joel, don’t you know how precious you are to me?”
“Right shoulder. It’s fine.” She cared. Joel clung to that precious word and wallowed in it. “It’s embarrassing,” he admitted grimly. “The nurses were calling me ‘Romeo’ because when I was delirious, I was—”
Joel cleared his throat, feeling his blush move up from his throat. “I thought I was a poet. An erotic one. And the poems were all dedicated to you...and that’s the last I want to hear about it”
Fiona looked at him, her expression softening as he dried her tears with the plaid and carefully enfolded her against him. “Because I don’t want to hurt you, I’m not going to grab you, but at some point, after you’re well, I will. And I’ll want every one of those poems, written and tucked in Una’s chest for me to cherish.” She smoothed his unshaven jaw, brushing her lips against his. “You’ll always come for me, won’t you, Joel?”
“Always. I love you. I have from the first moment I saw you.”
“Aye and blast, then m return and to be fair and honest, I should tell you that I love you, and that magic circles do come true. There will be no more waiting and dating and planning, and handling me so delicately I ache, Joel Palladin. You have your pride and I have mine, and so it will be, because you’re not escaping me, my love.”
Fiona kissed one cheek and then the other, and while Joel wondered if he was dreaming again, she whispered, “I love you, my prince.”
Epilogue
Fiona took her time, combing her hair, arranging the sleek, glossy length over the Tallchief plaid around her shoulders. The first of October had come again, cold winds circling Tallchief Mountain, and she had chosen her time.
She picked up the mirror, lying beside her on the bed she had shared with Joel, her husband, since that January day, because neither would be separated, even for a night. She tensed, glancing at the bedside clock and counting the time between her pains—the baby was as impulsive as she, hurrying to be born a week ahead of schedule.
When she relaxed, saving her strength, Fiona looked at the woman in the mirror: a peaceful woman, glowing with happiness, and one who was well loved by her husband, new stepson and the growing Tallchief family. She’d fought her battles and had come home to find peace.
Home was where her heart had come to rest. Her home was with Joel, the husband who shared her intimate thoughts and gave his back to her, now only slightly uneasy with the sharing.
Una’s chest glowed in the bedroom’s shadows, as much a part of her life as the other dowry legends were of her brothers and Elspeth.
Because Joel and Cody were hovering too near, she’d sent them off to collect flowers and plants from the new owner of Hummingbirds. She had other things to grow and tend and love now. Because she could not move to her loom, setting the weave and the world right, Fiona settled for her tatting shuttle, giving herself to the rhythm of making lace.
Fiona gasped, the pain coming stronger.
“Aye,” she whispered, her hands smoothing the mound of her stomach. “When your dad comes home, you’ll not frighten him. He’s plotted and planned for this. He’s got my bag packed and waiting for hospital, and he’s carrying a list in his pocket, mumbling about it in his sleep. I’m afraid he’ll have to toss that one away and follow his backup, this-won’t-happen-but list—”
Joel and Cody arrived, slamming doors, hurrying to see her.
His hair tossed by the wind, a grin upon his face and his hand upon Cody’s shoulder, Joel entered their bedroom. “Taking a nap, are you, Princess? Look what we’ve—ah...”
He stared blankly at her. “This is not your due date,” he stated firmly as if the baby ought to care for schedules and planning.
“I know—Aye and blast!” Another fierce pain took her—
Joel tossed the flowers aside, whipped off his coat and hurried to her. With her fingers locked to his, loving him, Fiona had to tell him. “Joel, honey. Get your lists and your books, because this baby is not waiting. Cody, call my sister, would you? Elspeth will take care of the rest They’ll want to know. Oh, no, Joel. Don’t look so desperate. My family will come, but it is you I want—Oh, and Cody? Please put water in the vases for the flowers, will you? I’d like them here.”
“I love you,” Joel stated so fiercely that she recognized his fear.
Because she felt another pain, Fiona had no time for gentleness. She reached out to grab his shoulders and tugged him down for a fierce kiss to tell this dear man that she’d love him forever. “Come with me, my love, my dragon. Step into the circle, and I will give you a child.”
Two weeks later, at Ian Palladin’s first outing, Fiona looked at her family, gathered at the old Tallchief homestead, where she had been raised, fighting rules and leaping into causes.
Dressed in their kilts and plaids and frilled shirts, and surrounded by their families, the Tallchiefs had come together for a family picture. October winds hurled through the cold night outside, and none would forget that it was on a night like this—With legends and love wrapped around them, they had survived and began new loves and new generations of Tallchiefs.
Calum stopped fussing with the preset timer on the camera and declared the clan hold still. Cody’s new puppy yelped from the back porch, demanding attention.
Fiona inhaled and straightened. There was Duncan the defender, Calum the cool, Birk the rogue, and Elspeth the elegant, always dear to her, and their families gathered around them. They had worried over her, protected her, and she loved them desperately. Now they had families and homes, and life had come full circle for her. Una’s legends had come true.
Love shone in their expressions, their eyes bright with tears, and none tried to shield their emotions as they looked at her, the baby of the clan, who had found her peace.
Elspeth, her only sister, and the one who had inherited the ability of their Scots-seer and Sioux-shaman ancestors, had a look that said she’d known all along that Joel would come calling one day and that Fiona’s legend would come true.
Sybil, Duncan’s wife, stood on tiptoe to kiss away the tear on his cheek. Birk, towering over his petite wife, Lacey, looped his arm around her to draw her against him. Calum placed his cheek against Talia’s, his expression that of dreams come true.
Cradling Ian against him, his other son dressed in a kilt beside him, Joel held out his hand to her. Against his tartan was the delicate length of tatted lace she’d made to keep him safe during the baby’s birth.
He’d fretted and cursed and promised that she would never go through that pain again—but she would—after giving him time to recover from the way his list making went awry. Ian Matthew, like his mother, was a suspect rebel, while Cody marched to a scheduled, planned tune. While Ian had the Tallchiefs’ gray eyes and black hair, the tiny cleft in his chin was definitely the mark of a Palladin.
Fiona took her husband’s hand and leaned against him, his arm encircling her, holding her close and a part of him as the camera flashed. The circle was complete. Fiona had come home at last. There was magic in legends, and the Palladins’ dark, stormy legacy eased more each day...for a proud, honorable man, Joel would have none of it touch his sons or his wife.
“Aye,” Fiona whispered softly.
“Aye,” the Tallchiefs called together, raising their thumbs high.
“Aye, Princess,” Joel murmured, looking down at Fiona,
his green eyes filled with love.
High on Tallchief Mountain, a blanket of leaves rustled over the meadow where birds would sing and heather would grow in the spring.
To finish the circle, an unlikely love of the battlemaiden will come calling, bearing his angry dragon on one arm and the chest to win her heart. Then the magic circle will be as true as their love.
THE PALLADINS SERIES by Cait London
continues! Turn the page for an exciting sneak preview of Rafe Palladin’s love story... coming your way this August, only from Silhouette Desire.
‘Twil be the knight who brings his lady to this cave with clusters of crystals about—aye, the sparkling crystals shall shoot their cloak of colors about him, who loves her already. Rogue that he is, the lady will come to love him with all her heart.
Rafe Palladin’s Story
“A moat and a closed drawbridge. Just what every castle in Wyoming needs,” Rafe Palladin murmured as he stood overlooking the small valley shrouded in snowflakes.
He tugged up the collar of his coat, leaned against his BMW and dropped into his thoughts. Acquiring the castle and therefore soothing the conscience of his grandmother, who felt guilty for her son’s crimes, would be an easy task. Mamie Palladin wanted Dr. Valerian well repaid for the folly he had purchased from her son, the small castle that had plunged the Valerians into debt and was sucking Dr. Valerian’s health.
Rafe found the small crystal attached to the key ring in his pocket. As a boy, he had discovered it in the same castle, and for some reason he’d kept it as a talisman.
The Valerians, father and daughter, would probably leap at having the castle taken off their hands—and the handsome profit. As chief of Palladin, Inc.’s Acquisitions and Product Development, Rafe had the quick-claim deed in his briefcase, ready to be signed. He’d follow Mamie’s orders, though it went against his nature to give money away. Rafe had teethed on darker elements than charity.
