Tallchief: The Hunter (14 page)

His hands and eyes treasured her, and her fear did not come. Not even when he lifted her, slid open her jeans, and caressed her softly, intimately. She met the rhythm, cruised in it, floated in pleasure.

From nowhere the storm came and slammed into her, hot, hungry, almost savage in its demand. Whatever had become soft and willing, gently changed, and pulsed and pleasured, growing until it exploded, tossing her against him. The deep vibrations went on beyond her control, gradually diminishing until she lay limply against Adam.

“Oh, Jillian,” he murmured against her lips, his body shaking and hard against her.

“Take me somewhere,” she whispered urgently, wanting more, all of him, inside her. She wanted him to cleanse away the other times, far less sweet and fulfilling. “Love me.”

He shook his head and rocked her. His expression was a mixture of sensual hunger and sorrow and frustration. On the road some distance away, a car drove by, and Adam said quietly, “Let me help you dress.”

When she sat beside him again, and the old pickup rumbled down the bumpy farm road, Adam slid his arm around her to pull her close. She sensed that he needed her, that there were things he wanted to say. “What is it, Adam? What troubles you? Sarah?”

She couldn’t help lifting to kiss his cheek and then Adam’s gray eyes slashed at her in surprise. His expression changed, opened to her, and she saw again the pain that had been there for so many years. He’d been a boy then, accused of lying, rigid with pride. “You give me peace, Jillian, and that is a hard commodity to find. I’ve hunted it in more lands than I can count. It’s no small thing to have that gift—to bring peace to someone else.”

She brought him more than peace, Adam brooded that night as he studied the images Steve had sent him on the
computer. Jillian’s style was there—animated, flowing, eye-catching.

He wanted her, his body humming with desire.
Yet she’d regret an impulsive loving later, when she discovered that he was Sam.

What she believed was a lie hovered between them. Adam rammed his hand through his hair and struggled with his options, to leave or to stay, to tell everything and lose, or to hope that—
Hope.
How many times had he tossed that dream away? He’d hoped she’d believe him, and not her brother, all those years ago.

Adam shook his head and damned himself for not telling her the truth, for letting his need for her consume him too soon—

Jillian studied the jars, washed and lined up on her counter. They were beautiful, and she could imagine them standing filled with jams, peaches and green beans in a pantry—what a pretty image. Washing them had given her something to do, because she couldn’t concentrate on her Sam projects.

Thinking about Adam’s hunger left little room for that. The images of the day rushed by her, Adam sitting as she wove, the quiet peace between them. The gardening and the tractor ride, the way he chuckled when she struggled for control of the big beast—the way he touched her gently, pulling her hair from her face for a kiss. She smiled, remembering his excitement over the “beauty,” that boyish grin at her catching her heart, holding it.

Then later, her riveting need for him had shaken her, her body still restless. Was he feeling the same? Was he aching for her? Thinking of her?

It had only taken weeks for her plan of revenge to turn to one of trust.
Why did her instincts tell her that Adam could be trusted? How could she possibly question what her parents had told her? Nothing in the newspapers or the gossip supported his accusation against Tom.

She smoothed the beads on the headband and carefully tied it around her forehead. Her hand flowed over her breasts, remembering his caresses, the heat of his mouth.

Strange that she had always been so clinical about choosing her life, those people around her, always so safe. Adam wasn’t a safe man, not to her—he brought out emotions too wild and fierce, and that odd urge to soothe him.

Jillian turned on her computer and only slightly mourned the time she’d lost during the day—actually living, enjoying herself. She stared at Nancy’s colorful package design, and knew that if she stepped back into the past, pain waited. She shouldn’t even think about reopening the bitterness, but she wondered how she would see the events now as an adult.

She saw Adam’s harsh expression, those gray eyes flashing, his young face set and rigid with anger and pain. He’d wanted her to believe him.

With a sigh, Jillian braced herself and began to hunt through old newspaper archives available through her computer. She couldn’t find anything, except the obituaries of her brother and parents, and the auction of the house and furnishings.

The house.
A Southern-style mansion had been built to make a statement that the Greens came from wealth and power, that they ranked in the town’s very best social circle—or higher. It had been filled with florists’ flowers, designer furniture and custom decor, and it was as cold as the crystal that glittered throughout. Completely absorbed in her own world as a society leader, Martha Green had never washed dishes or scrubbed floors. Maxwell Green had never dirtied his hands on an old truck engine or changed a tire. He wouldn’t think of manual labor, not even if a friend needed him.

Jillian wrapped her arms around herself and rubbed them. Despite the warmth of her home, the past’s chill swept over her. As a woman, she couldn’t imagine leaving a little girl alone in a big house for the night. Oh, she’d been locked
in the room, of course, a very pretty room where dolls that showed any loving wear were thrown away.

Nothing in Tom’s obituary indicated that he had died in prison. In fact, the news at the time had nothing to say of car thefts or of the elderly woman dying, except for her obituary. Yet at the same time in Jillian’s home, the bitterness against “that Tallchief boy” had raged incessantly. The absence of any newspaper article on a trial that had Jillian’s parents in an uproar—and their friends—seemed strange.

Jillian rummaged through old papers and found the telephone number she wanted. Maude Lanford had been a young court stenographer, a single mother raising three children by herself. She had been a friend to Adam’s aunt Sarah, and Jillian had baby-sat for her children more than once. During the trial, Maude had seemed sad and frightened, and she’d avoided Jillian. Why?

Maude answered the call, her voice older, a little cracked and tired. But upon hearing Jillian’s name, she brightened. “Jillian? Jillian Green? Hush, now, children. Grandma’s on the telephone. Shh. Jillian—I’m so glad you called. How are you? I’ve thought about you so much. You were always in my prayers.”

After a brief conversation, catching up on Maude’s second marriage, a happy one, and the marriages of her children, Maude said, “I’m so sorry your marriage didn’t work out. But to tell you the truth, I never liked that boy. I felt that your parents pushed you at him after their businesses started to fail—they had to buy off so many people, all the parents of those boys had so many legal fees and debts. Heavens—oh, dear, you didn’t know that, did you? I shouldn’t have said anything. But they ruined that Tallchief boy’s life, and truly put Sarah in an early grave.”

Buy off so many people, all the parents of those boys had so many legal fees…
Jillian gripped the telephone. “Maude, it is really important that you tell me what went on during that trial, from your point of view.”

“The records were sealed. I can’t—well, yes, I can. I’m an old woman, but my memory is clear as a bell on that—it was so wrong, and I don’t care anymore. Someone should have stood up for that boy, and for Sarah. At the time, I wanted to help, but I was like everyone else—terrified of losing my job. Those families were so powerful, owning all the businesses, controlling everything. All of us were afraid. Sarah’s heart was bad and the pressure on her was incredible, the telephone threats, the way she was ostracized. She stood by Adam though, and told him to stand up for what he knew was right.”

“I’ve met him again, and I know that what happened then affected my whole life—and his. I have to resolve this, Maude. Please—”

After the telephone call ended, Jillian sat very still, bombarded by Maude’s facts, facts that had never made the local newspaper—the boys’ parents were to repay any damage they had done and there were other penalties, such as work programs and not associating with each other outside of school events. The other boys involved had all given testimony against Tom, saying they feared him and that they’d evidenced his brutality.

The prominent families had banded together, shutting down the case, and the judge’s sympathy allowed them to go on in life without records. Adam’s testimony against Tom proved that the elderly woman had been assaulted and robbed. Then, while awaiting the judge’s decision of Tom’s additional punishment, he had attacked Adam—and this time there were witnesses. He was sentenced to prison, but the town’s elite wasn’t letting Adam or Sarah lead a normal life—they were cast out.

Maude’s story supported Adam. She’d mentioned too many dates and facts, still clear in her mind, for her to have erred. She remembered the cars that had been stolen, and Jillian remembered how Tom had admired them, watching them hungrily. All the facts fit together. Adam
hadn’t lied all those years ago. Jillian’s parents and Tom had brought about their own ruin.

It was hours before she recovered, her computer still humming as it was before she’d placed the call to Maude. She’d moved from one lifetime to another, from the girl to the woman, understanding the hardships and the facts. Outside the sky was light gray, preceding dawn. It slipped through the window to stir the shadows. Methodically, Jillian turned off her computer. Shaking and numb, she knew what she had to do. She untied the headband and placed it on her desk. She pulled out the silver ring Adam had given her long ago and, still numb, drove to his house.

At dawn, Adam was saddling a horse borrowed from Duncan Tallchief. The night had been too restless to concentrate on work and Jillian filled his mind, the hunger for her haunting him.

He’d hunted in his lifetime, and now he was the hunted—by his conscience, by Jillian’s belief of Tom’s lie, by the way she looked yesterday, happy and carefree…and by the way she ignited in his arms.

He was greedy, after all, wanting a few moments with her that weren’t draped in bitterness. But truth—his Sam deceit—was going to hurt and anger her. Was it wrong to want just that bit of time with her?

He tightened a cinch and traced Jillian’s SUV racing toward his house, a silver streak in the dawn. When she braked too quickly, the tires squalled and the vehicle slid sideways. Then she was out the door and hurrying toward him without a coat and wearing the same clothes she had worn yesterday.

“Jillian?” he asked as she shivered, gripped her arms and moved restlessly in front of him. The pink dawn caught the tears streaking her face. “What is it?”

She shook her head, her lips moving as she looked away from him. When she turned back, her expression was incredibly sad. Yet the composure was there, the lady and
the class. “It’s a nice morning, isn’t it?” she asked unsteadily. “Going for a ride?”

Adam removed his coat and placed it around her shoulders. If she’d discovered he was Sam, he didn’t blame her for hating him. He’d just as soon have the truth now, hard and fast. He had no excuses, except the real one that he wanted to know her better. “You didn’t come here for conversation. Spell it out.”

She shook her head and shivered again. “I can’t. I can’t talk about it just yet. I…I don’t suppose you’d take me with you, would you?”

“I’m going camping on Tallchief Mountain—overnight,” he added so she would understand that they would be alone together.

“I…That would be lovely. Just please, please don’t talk now. Just take me someplace, away from here. Away from everything.”

Adam eased her hair back from her face and knew that whatever she asked, he would do. She wasn’t dressed properly, wearing light canvas shoes instead of boots, and the shadows beneath her eyes said she hadn’t slept at all. He’d need extra clothing and warmth for her. “I need to get a few things from the house. Do you want to come in?”

She shook her head adamantly, and Adam noted the stricken, pale look of someone who had just suffered severe shock. Whatever troubled Jillian, she couldn’t speak of it just now. She wore the ring he’d given her long ago, but now wasn’t the time to ask why. “Wait here. I should get another horse—”

“No. Don’t. I mean, please don’t take time away from what you had planned. Let’s…let’s just go, if it is all right with you? Will the horse carry both of us? I could walk.”

“You’re not walking.” Adam nodded and when he returned with extra clothing and bathing supplies for Jillian, she was still standing where he had left her. She looked incredibly vulnerable wearing his coat, her head bent in
thought. She barely noticed when he lifted her into the saddle and swung up behind her.

Whatever troubled Jillian would have to come out when she was ready, and Adam prepared himself for the worst. He’d made a mistake by using Sam to communicate with her, but if she had discovered that deception, she would have been angry. Right now, she acted as if she was in shock, locked in a horrible nightmare. She felt so fragile in his arms, and he eased her back against him. “It’s a long ride. Sleep if you can.”

“I don’t think I’ll ever sleep again,” she whispered, relaxing slightly against him. She shook her head. “It was all so wrong.”

Adam knew better than to ask questions. Jillian acted shattered and she’d need time to put her thoughts together. Waiting wouldn’t be easy—but he would, for Jillian.

A

With night coming early on the mountain, she sat on his sleeping bag, dressed in his overlarge sweatsuit and draped in his jacket against the cold; his socks extended past her toes. She’d eaten little, mechanically following Adam’s urging. Her arms wrapped around her knees, her chin sitting on them as she rocked, staring sightlessly into the fire.

He’d seen people stunned by war or natural disaster act the same, the mind needing the bridge to adjust from a nightmare to reality.
Jillian, Jillian…

“Tea?” he asked, and waited for her to decide. Slowly
she reached for the cup, cradling its warmth in her hands. It grew cold as she held it, still rocking and staring into the flames. After a time, he took the cup and tossed the contents. “How about a candy bar? You used to love them—all that gooey chocolate and nuts…”

He opened a bar and handed it to her. “Eat.”

She stared at the candy and her voice sounded hollow, echoing whatever trauma her mind held. The first words that she’d spoken since she’d arrived at his cabin almost floated away into the night. “You used to give these to me. You knew my parents wouldn’t allow them—‘Don’t eat anything to spoil your complexion,’ they said. I always did as I was told. I tried to please them. Everything was for Tom—he would be the one to carry on the family name. I knew just what I was supposed to do—marry well. I did. Kevin did help with my parents’ bills, and he was supportive. I think we could have been friends, except for…. It just wasn’t there, the feeling that should have been. I was probably the only woman not in love with him—his wife.”

Adam settled beside her on the sleeping bag. Kevin O’Malley deserved just one good punch; he would have been almost twice Jillian’s weight and more in strength. Adam didn’t like the anger bristling in him, nor the reason for it. “It’s a good starry night. That time was long ago, Jillian.”

“No, it’s right here. Right now.” She bit into the candy bar and chewed quickly as if determined to rebel against those rules long ago. She crushed the wrapper in her fist, tossed it into the fire and watched it ignite. “I owe you a big apology, Adam. And my gratitude.”

Then she was on her feet, stalking across the small mountain clearing. Behind her, the horse watched curiously from amid the tall pines. On the cusp of May, the night air was cold. In summer, they would be cool and fragrant with wildflowers, the grass lush for grazing deer. Wild roses would be blooming, thorny and beautiful. Berries could be
had for the picking—not the fat, cultured variety, but sweeter for the picking and the setting.

A woman who enjoyed images and color and texture, Jillian would be entranced. But now, her mind was coursing through other times, her body taut with emotions. “Jillian, come here. Your feet are getting damp.”

She crossed back to him and balanced her hand on his shoulder as he tugged his boots onto her feet, tightening the laces. She searched his face as if finding something she hadn’t expected. There was that tug on his hair, pulling it back from his face. She studied his features slowly, as if trying to see into him. “So here we are, you and I, after all these years.”

“We’re okay, you and I. We made it.”

She shook her head. “No, I didn’t. I watched it all unfold, the shame of my parents, the bitterness, and I was helpless. I loved them. I loved Tom.”

She straightened and turned her back to him. Her body was stiff, her fists locked at her thighs as if braced to meet a painful obligation she must fulfill. She’d looked just that way—uncertain, fearful and determined—when she’d offered herself to him at sixteen. “I think…I think we could have made it, even as young as we were, if you’d taken me up on that marriage offer…if we could have moved away…if Sarah could have been well enough to come with us.”

“Those are a lot of ‘ifs,’ Jillian. We were very young.”

“You loved me, then,” she said, needing the reassurance that the one perfect month they’d had was not a dream.

“I loved you then,” he stated firmly. “I loved you for a long time after that.”

Jillian’s voice was low and uneven. “I owe you an apology for not believing you then. I just wanted everything to be like it was, that month we were sweethearts in high school, and I was dating the high school hero. They made life unbearable for you, didn’t they? My parents and the rest? And it’s true—Sarah was cast out from her friends—
they were too frightened for their families’ jobs to defy my parents and their friends. I just found out last night from someone who knew the whole story. Maude, the court stenographer, told me everything.”

She rubbed her fingers over her temples as if to dislodge the facts. “I sat for hours, going over the dates and the articles in the newspaper archives. There was nothing there, a total lack of facts. I remembered who was connected to the judge, and the police force and the attorneys. I have no doubt that their political connections played a part, too. Oh, the records were sealed, but the facts fit. Now I’m seeing them as an adult. You paid a terrible price for keeping your honor, Adam. They literally drove you out of town.”

He shook his head. The admission must have cost Jillian, and now he knew why she was so stunned. A loyal, truthful woman, Jillian would have been devastated by the deceit. He wanted to lessen the impact, to help her. “I left because it was time for me to leave. I’d always wanted to see the world. Now I have.”

Jillian turned to him. “And there was me. I didn’t believe you then. I do now. All that I can say is that back then, everything was distorted. I was so young, Adam. Sheltered from life perhaps—in some ways. But in others, I had everyday lessons in power, money and social status. Sometimes I wonder exactly what I would have been like if I would have had more loving parents. I always wanted to—never mind. Well, yes, I’ll tell you. I always wanted to be just as confident as you. Maybe even now, I begrudge your traveling as you wished, not to business conferences or obligatory vacations with business friends. But really, just stretching out my hands and grasping what life offered—I’ve always been afraid to do that.”

“You’ve already done that.”

“I have?” The thought shocked her.

“You chose your life apart from what your parents had chosen. You retrained into a field you love. You did all that.”

She shook her head. “Do you know that through everything with Kevin, I never lost my temper? I wanted to, but it just wouldn’t come. It certainly comes when I’m mad at you. With you, everything has colors and meaning. I’m almost angry at you because of that—showing me the contrast between my existence and being alive, like that day you bought the pickup. It was so different from the way I’ve trudged through life.”

He couldn’t bear to see her aching. “You made something of your life, Jillian. You did it on your strength alone. Be proud of that.”

Adam knew that wouldn’t have helped her with Kevin; it could have made things worse. “There’s nothing wrong in being safe, Jillian.”

She took off the ring and handed it to him. “I threw this at you, now I’m giving it back with my thanks. As an adult, you could have tried to reopen the case, unseal the records, but you didn’t. I think you were protecting me, even as I disliked you. I’m so sorry.”

Adam stood and placed the ring on her finger again. He chose her left hand, smoothing the slender line between his fingers. The sight gave him pleasure, that she wore something he had given her. “Keep it for good luck. You’ve kept it this long—why?”

Jillian shook her head and her expression said that her heart and mind were too filled with emotions for words. Adam watched helplessly as tears began to shimmer in her eyes. “It’s a whole lifetime, Adam. Yours and mine. You should have had those scholarships to go to college, but no one was feeling friendly toward you. The committee granting them had sons in that gang. So much time wasted. I tried so hard to please everyone—my parents, Kevin, and in the end, I lost myself. I—The only true happiness I’ve had has been here in these last months with the Tallchiefs. I’ll always remember this time, holding it dear.”

She looked as if she’d come through galaxies, clearly exhausted. The rigid stance was gone now, her shoulders
bent. Adam couldn’t bear to see her so torn. “Jillian, that was the past. You were just a girl.”

“I should have—Hold me, Adam. Hold me tight,” she whispered, moving close to him. There was little he could do, but hold her tight and safe against him, aching for her.

“You’ll come through this, Jillian,” he said against her hair. “You’re a strong woman now. You’ve chosen your own life and you’re good at what you do. You’ve built a career and a life—”

“A life? I functioned well in survival mode. I did what I had to do, but—” She shook her head as if she couldn’t continue.

“You’ll be fine. You’re just tired now,” Adam said, nuzzling her hair, and prayed that she would be. Clearly shattered, she was just pulling herself together to face the reality of what had happened through an adult’s eyes. He couldn’t bear to tell her now that the contract with Sam was all his doing.

And he had to tell her soon.

Jillian awoke slowly, luxuriously, next to Adam in the large sleeping bag. It had been borrowed from Liam, according to Michelle, who insisted on sleeping with her husband. The stars were fading now, the air cold and crisp in the predawn, and Jillian felt so light, unburdened. She’d spent a sleepless night, decided what she should do, but only the apology that had been scraped from her soul, felt right. Now forgiveness was up to Adam.

She had watched the fire for hours after Adam had tucked her into the sleeping bag, her eyes dry with crying and lack of sleep. He’d sat for a while, stroking her hair, and then she couldn’t bear the thought of him sleeping with just a blanket on the cold mountain ground. “Adam, I will not be responsible for your discomfort or sickness. Either you share this with me, or I’m sleeping on that blanket.”

He’d hesitated, shook his head as if he knew better, and then slowly undressed down to his boxer shorts. In the dy
ing firelight, she’d thought how beautiful he was, how far he’d traveled, to be just here, with her, when she’d needed him.

She lay very still, feeling the different textures of a male lying next to her, Adam’s heat enclosing her. He slept curled against her back, their bodies spooning, and Jillian was reminded of the feathers and the legend:
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.

Had Sarah known, so long ago, that Adam’s and Jillian’s lives would be twined together? They had grown into each other’s lives, and now they were facing a new beginning.

He’d spoken of girl, a long time ago.
She broke my heart. I wonder at times, if it ever mended enough to let another woman into it.
Was
she
that girl? He’d seemed in love when they were in their teens—was it possible?

She turned slightly, and Adam shifted to his back. He looked so peaceful now, his breathing easy.

As if sensing she had awakened, he murmured sleepily, “Are you all right?”

“I’m fine.” She wanted to touch him, to stroke his face, to feel that strength that had surrounded her last night. She trusted him—that thought ran through her as she considered how to ask him….

“What’s wrong, honey?” he asked softly, turning to her. “Can’t sleep?”

The endearment was deep and intimate as if he had saved it just for her. She curled the word around her, treasuring it. “These sweat clothes are warm, and you’re like a furnace.”

He moved as if to leave, and she placed her hand on his
bare chest, smoothing it. The textures were smooth and powerful, the scar ripping across his arm proved that he took his challenges and survived. She smoothed the shark bite on his side, and images she had seen in movies terrified her. She couldn’t bear to think of Adam mangled and lifeless. “Don’t leave.”

He lay back, watching her in the night as she sat up and squirmed to pull off the oversize sweatpants, then the top. She’d never been bold, but now with Adam beside her, watching her with that dark, flickering, hungry look, she felt very feminine—and not at risk.
Not at risk. She felt as if she could do anything, here on this mountain with Adam, and it would be natural and right.

She had to ask—“Am I the girl who broke your heart a long time ago?”

That hard mouth changed and slid into a slight smile. “None other. You ruined for me any other woman, sweetheart.”

Her instincts told her that making love now, with Adam, was right. She wouldn’t be frightened or rigidly cold. She wanted to be a part of him, to feel complete. She would have no regrets, because she knew that on a primitive level, she could trust him, if not herself. Adam would only touch in her gentleness and in affection. She needed his warmth and the tenderness that went with it. She also needed to give in return. She lay down and turned to him. “Make love with me.”

The muscle in his arm brushing hers leaped as if he were startled. He shook his head. “Jillian, you’re upset. You’ll think differently in the morning. I’m not taking advantage—”

“I take responsibility for my actions. I’m not that starry-eyed girl any longer, Adam. I’m a woman who wants you.” She bent to seal his lips with a kiss. “You’re not taking advantage. I want you. Equal opportunity, you know.”

Adam studied her face, smoothed her cheek. “There’s
no going back. Once I’ve tasted you, I’ll want more. I’d rather wait until—”