Tallchief: The Hunter (6 page)

“Emily!” Sybil admonished.

Adam solemnly gave Emily the special collector’s Sam the Truck. “I hold your trust dear, m’lady. I shall fight to keep all that is dear to you with my last breath. Please take this humble treasure as my pledge.”

She beamed up at him and a steady blush crept up her cheeks. “You’re okay, I guess.”

Fascinated with Emily’s happy expression, Cody straightened. “I pledge to do whatever he said,” he announced boldly.

Adam handed the sack to Cody. “I don’t suppose you’d help pass these out, would you? And take one for yourself?”

“Will I?
Will I?
I love Sam the Truck,” Cody said, forgetting his attempt to impress the elegant, beautiful Emily. He took the sack and hurried to sit in the center of the braided rug, the children clamoring to sit around him.

While Cody meticulously chose the appropriate model for the age of the children, Elspeth stood on tiptoe to kiss Adam’s cheek. She patted it gently as a knock sounded on the front door. “You’ve got their hearts already, now you’d better tend your own.”

Jillian entered and glanced at Adam coolly; her smile to the rest of the Tallchief family was filled with warmth. She glanced at the children playing on the floor, the Sam the Truck models grasped tightly in their hands. “Did I miss the party?”

“Not at all. Jillian O’Malley, meet Adam Tallchief, our wandering cousin. He’s staying with us for a while and brought the toys. Emily has already claimed him as a Black Knight.” Elspeth took the covered dish Jillian carried, giving it to Alek with a look that said, “Place it on the table.”

“J.T. seemed pleased enough with his Sam the Truck set and I thought it might make a good impression.”

Jillian’s narrowed look took in his comfortable, clean,
but worn gray sweater, jeans and loafers. Her expression said she doubted his ability to pay for the toys. “If a costly one.”

“An expense I can afford—I’ve come into a bit of money recently,” he said to remind her that they’d tangled twice and he was more than ready for a third helping. Adam noted the furious lash of Jillian’s gaze, though her lips were smiling. He noted again the way she stiffened when he moved close. “Let me take your coat.”

He couldn’t resist a tug at that silky hair, a boyish urge to tease her, too intense to be denied.

Her eyes narrowed and a slight flush rose in her cheeks, a reflection of the anger she was fighting to control. “I hear you travel the world, never settling for long, Mr. Tallchief. Are you planning to stay long here?”

“Adam,” he corrected while children’s shouts of delight brought their parents all down to the floor to play. His eyes locked with Jillian’s. “As long as it takes.”

She smiled coldly and moved away into the family playing on the floor. Every instinct in Adam told him to go after her—more, it told him to pick her up and carry her out of the house, to taste those lips once again. When he was able to tear his eyes away, Elspeth’s cool gray ones were waiting. “Our ancestor, Tallchief, was a hunter. I’d say it runs in the family,” she said as though understanding he would seek Jillian out wherever she went.

The dinner set at the huge table was not a quiet affair with parents feeding children, the talk a blend of crops, family and Jillian’s work for Silver’s new ad campaign. Seated across from Adam, Jillian avoided looking at him. Then, in clearing the table, passing back and forth from the kitchen, she leaned close. “So you’re already spending my money and none of it on tickets out of here. I thought that was our agreement. You can’t stay and let this family provide for you. And you’d better not take the pickup truck that Liam loaned you when you go. Michelle says that truck
is almost another baby to him. She’s quite fond of the hours they’ve spent together beneath it.”

“I don’t remember any agreement between you and me, Jilly-dear,” he whispered back, and let his gaze wander appreciatively down her classic black sweater and slacks. The pearl strand was creamy and elegant and genuine, just like Jillian, bred for perfection, for the ideal life. But now there were curves filling out the cloth and the flash in her eyes spoke of anger—simmering and withheld, but real anger, just the same. “You’ve changed a bit since you were young and sweet.”

Jillian sniffed, turned up her nose and hurried away to collect another stack of dishes. Adam crossed his arms and leaned back against the wall, waiting for her to pass by him and into the kitchen. She shot him a hot, narrowed-eyed glare. “They’ll see through you soon enough, Adam. They’ll try to put you to work and you’ll be stuck for answers and you’ll be gone, just when they are counting on you.”

“Hmm. Work. Now there’s a new thought,” he returned lazily, thinking of all the lumber he’d cut and cleared, the horses he’d broken, the harvesting of crops, the ships he’d sailed and unloaded, the buildings he’d helped construct. More often than not, he’d dragged home at night, too tired to eat or sleep before the next day started it all over again. Even now, with Sam’s success, he preferred hard, exhausting physical labor to sleepless nights and mourning Sarah.

She pushed the stack of dishes at him. “The other men are helping. You could do the same. You ate enough for two.”

“So you noticed? I didn’t know I interested you so much.” Adam’s taunt belied his discomfort. He’d rarely been in family settings and was at odds with the duties of a guest.

“You don’t. For them, you’ve got to do something with your life. So they won’t have a shirttail relative always needing money. You’ve got to be respectable,” she whis
pered at him, then glanced down at J.T. who was looking up at the adults curiously.

“I’m working on it. Don’t worry, I won’t cash the check locally. No one will know you wrote one to me.”

“You must have. Those toys are expensive.”

“I like toys, and especially Sam the Truck,” J.T. stated firmly below the brewing, yet controlled argument.

Adam handed the dishes back to her and picked up his nephew. “She’s pretty, isn’t she, J.T.?”

“Aye,” J.T. murmured, and studied Jillian seriously with his gray eyes. He looped an arm around Adam’s shoulders. “But she’s lonely. There’s a boy at preschool with that same look. His mom just went to heaven. His dad works all the time.”

“Mmm. Maybe there is a truck in the sack for him. Let’s go see,” Adam said, and carried the boy into the living room. He suspected that J.T.’s observation was correct, but now was not the time to question Jillian. He intended to make more time with her, to wipe away the memories that had haunted him for years.

Why should she care about Adam Tallchief? Why would one look at him, standing with a child on his hip, a child that matched his gray eyes and glossy black hair, stun her? Why would the image of Adam, preparing to leave the Tallchiefs, their plaid slung over his peacoat excite her?

Maybe as an artist, she was susceptible to images. Maybe as a woman, the biological tug to have a child of her own went straight to her womb. Maybe Adam Tallchief didn’t have her thinking straight; he brought the past and her pain with him, intent upon examining his own wounds.

His face was hard now, not a boy’s, and those sleepy, careless looks he gave her didn’t fool her. The need for revenge coursed through him, the same as hers coursed through her. But she wouldn’t allow hers to erupt, to make the Tallchiefs uncomfortable.

Jillian shoved open the door to her house and moved
through the soft shadows. She preferred her comfortable, rented home to the bright revealing light. She stripped off her coat and lit a small arrangement of candles, intent upon having a quiet glass of wine to settle her nerves after the encounter with Adam.

She poured sangria into a cup and kicked off her shoes. They were practical now, black leather flats and not dress heels as she once wore. She’d once had the perfect set of wineglasses, Irish crystal, and now she used a plain white cup purchased at a discount store. But then, she wasn’t hosting Kevin’s dinner parties as he wangled for a bid in an election, was she? She sipped the wine and thought how well the cup served her needs as a single woman, tossing away the past—but she couldn’t, could she? Not with Adam prowling through her mind, her dreams.

She cupped the stoneware in one palm and circled the rim with her fingertip, enjoying the cool, smooth surface. Life should be the same, without any unexpected chips.

Adam Tallchief was a big chip in the smooth life she wanted. He brought the past and anger with him, and storming out of her were emotions she didn’t want to unravel. She had to push him away, to forget him, to make him seem as inconsequential as—She turned at a noise, and found Adam sitting at her desk, sock-covered feet propped upon it, his hands locked behind his head.

The cup she’d been admiring tumbled from her shaking fingers and crashed upon the floor. “You!”

He rose slowly and came to kneel in front of her, picking up the pieces of the cup and dabbing away the drops of wine with a cloth. He stood, placed the pieces and the cloth in the sink and, while Jillian was considering her next move, asked softly, “What did O’Malley do to you?”

What hadn’t he done?
she thought wildly, intimidated by the size of Adam standing too close. He lifted his hand slowly, carefully, and as she watched, her throat dry, he stroked her hair with the lightest touch. A touch that hurled
her back twenty-two years to when she was a girl adoring him, her heart skipping with romantic expectations—

“You may not believe this, Jillian, but I am sorry about Tom’s death. I know how much you loved him. I’m sorry about your parents, too.”

Horrible scenes of her drunken parents arguing swirled around Jillian. “They lost everything. They were humiliated.”

“And you were the golden offering to O’Malley.”

“They wanted me to be taken care of.” Even as she defended her parents, a cold chill swept over Jillian, the reality of truth. “We’d lost everything by then, thanks to you. There were legal expenses and money paid to reimburse those who had been robbed—not that Tom did it, but my parents paid the bills just the same. I wanted to drop out of college because of the expenses. I wanted to work and help them, but they wouldn’t have it. All I have left is my grandmother’s pearls.”

You owe us.
The harsh echo from the past dried her throat even now. Her parents had wanted to sell the pearls, too. Her grandmother was the only person who had really loved her, and Jillian had lied then, saying she’d lost them. Her parents wouldn’t let her drop out of college, because she needed that degree to catch an up-and-coming husband. “So now you know everything, the damage you’ve done. Are you happy?”

“Not quite. Do you ever wonder what would have happened between us if that fracas with Tom hadn’t erupted?” he asked softly and eased a strand of her hair behind her ear.

“No,” she lied, and turned away to look at the flickering candles.

That prowling fingertip circled her ear. His breath brushed her skin as he whispered, “Do you ever wonder how it would have been to—”

“No,” she lied again, and realized she’d spoken too urgently, too harshly. “Why are you here?”

He pulled a square folded paper from his jeans’ pocket and tossed it to the countertop. “Your check. I didn’t spend your money on those toys. I gave them to the children because I enjoy watching them play.”

She turned to him then, his face lit by the candles. She saw more than she wanted in his eyes, almost silver now, narrowed upon her. That fear danced in her again and she swallowed, leaning away from him. “If you had a family, you’d have to stay in one place and take a regular job with benefits. The cost would have been too great. And that’s why you never married. Right, Adam?”

“I made my choices. I saw you at the family gathering. You like cuddling babies and playing with the children too much to not have children of your own. No little ones for you and dear Kevin?” he returned too softly.

“It didn’t happen.” She shook her head and shivered, repulsed by the thought of Kevin’s touch. Then she looked down at her hand, locked to the countertop, and found Adam’s big warm one covering it. It felt too solid and safe. She slid her hand away.

“Why are you here?” she repeated, and realized that fear, memories, and something else danced along her nerves. She didn’t want to think of that tense, electrified feeling Adam could evoke in her.

“To let you know that there is no reason to jump when I’m near, or to pale as if I’d hurt you. I do not want my brother and relatives thinking I terrorize women. It isn’t good for the image,” he stated firmly.

She stared at him. “‘Good for the image’? What image? You’re a down-on-your-luck drifter, so far as I can see.”

He tilted his head, and despite the warning-smoke color of his eyes, said quietly, “I have my good points, you know.”

“I don’t want to hear what you think of yourself.”

“No, but you’re ready to tell me your thoughts, aren’t you? Well, let me tell you mine, about you. You edge away from the slightest accidental touch of a man. I saw proof
of that tonight. You’d better keep that under control, or they’ll wonder and ask and try to help. You don’t want anyone helping you, do you, Jillian? You want to pass out advice to others, though.”

“I’ve heard enough. Get out.”

“I’m not done. If you avoid talking to me as you tried tonight, they’ll sense something runs between us. Unless you want that examined, try a little harder to be at ease with me, will you?”

“I don’t owe you anything, Adam.”

“Oh, yes, you do, you little witch. You’ve deliberately come back into my life and now that you’re here, you’re not ready to take the consequences.”

“Such as?” she invited, challenging him.

“This,” he said softly before he lowered his lips to hers.

Caught before the fear could tear at her, Jillian could only stand still, held by the merest light, warm brush of his lips. In it was beauty and tenderness and hope, long shriveled and forgotten. Sadness welled up inside her, and came trailing down as tears upon her cheeks.

When she was able to pull back into her shields, Adam had gone and she was in for a long, restless night.