Tallchief for Keeps (25 page)

At seven months into her pregnancy, Talia smoothed the small ball of her stomach in the short flirty skirt. She plopped her practical flats—Calum had studied the construction of shoes and wooed her into wearing them—on another chair and rummaged through her thoughts. “I love my Hessian boots. Love tromping in them. Calum said if I’d wear these double uglies now, he’d wear skintight leather pants after the baby came—just while I was teaching him Petrovna family dances. Hmm…Alek never speaks Russian when he’s really, really wanting to make a point to someone who doesn’t understand it.”

Talia’s long blond hair flew out as she turned to Elspeth, one finger raised. “He wants the Tallchiefs to see him coming. He’s being very careful with the Tallchiefs, so they understand his exact motives and feelings for you, Elspeth. He wants to make certain that you do not misunderstand anything that he is intending to do, or anything about his feelings. Trust me, of all the Petrovnas, he can be the most…secretive—an element that isn’t typical of any of us. Devious, yes. Secretive, no. I called Mother and told her that Alek had been a bad boy—that he wanted you and that he engineered that whole Denver contract business to be alone with you. I told her that he’d found Una’s shawl and that he wouldn’t let you have it. She’s incensed. I almost feel sorry for him when my parents come…they’11 be here before the baby is born.”

Elspeth thought of Alek, and her heart
shifted into high gear. She remembered their lovemaking all down the mountain and in the old Kostya place throughout the night. He had taken exquisite care arranging her upon the old bed in the guest room, smoothing her hair across the old pillow decorated with embroidered flowers. Elspeth could sense when he wanted her, desire lurching within her, only to find his eyes dark and hungry. She’d cut his hair, trimmed the heavy, curling mane and fussed with it until she was pleased and he’d tugged her upon his lap. Sunday loving, he’d called her once, tickling her as they went down in the old barn filled with cows they’d just milked.

“Do you want the shawl?” he’d asked
again, poised above her. Somehow she’d managed the truth, dying for him.

“No, I want you, Petrovna.”

She’d learned that Alek Petrovna’s law—always finish what you start—also referred to lovemaking. He had wonderful stories of other lands, outrageous ones about his family. The Petrovnas could ignite at any minute, shouting and throwing up their hands. Their mother, Serene, had ancestors that dated back in Texas history to the Alamo. She fought for what she believed in, a tiny, calm woman devoted to her family, all of whom towered over her. Alek Petrovna, Sr., a tough, raw-boned Texan, melted when he looked at her.

But Elspeth had had her measure, too, listening to the humming of his desire, the way he said her name. Her Alek.
I love you.
The words rang softly in her heart. Could she trust herself? Could she trust him?

They had met just exactly five years ago this month; she’d had her life torn from her, and now he was giving it back.
I love you.

There were quiet times, too. Like the moment Alek came up behind her, holding her in his arms as they overlooked the Kostya fields. It was good standing with him, the late-June breeze playing with her hair and Alek, solid and warm at her back.

He’d left her at her doorstep on Monday morning with a mind-stopping kiss and gently pushed her inside her door. She’d gone to sleep well-loved, aching, exhausted, smoothing her mother’s quilt and with the taste of that kiss and the look in his eyes.

She had drifted
through Monday in a golden fog. She’d thought about surprising Alek, and a quick glance proved he wasn’t home. At six o’clock that evening, she’d grinned at the light rap on her back door, and then Alek swept her out to his Chevy, burgers at the drive-in, a cruise down Main Street and back again. Alek had kept her hand on his thigh, firmly locked in his fingers, which he had kissed and suckled intermittently. Necking in his back seat left the windows fogged, Elspeth breathless and Alek playful and full of himself…until he pushed her into her house, alone and yearning for him. Sometimes old-fashioned males just didn’t cut it, Elspeth decided, and when you took Alek apart, he ranged right in the old-fashioned-male depot with her brothers.

Elspeth frowned slightly and traced
the lip of her glass of white wine. His look—she couldn’t mistake that closed-in, level look at her—suggested he’d made a promise and that he’d be moving quickly upon it.
I love you.
…

She wouldn’t be pushed.

I love you….

Why did he leave her breathless and aching at her door?

What game was he up to now?

She didn’t trust him; Alek had skimmed his hand down her shoulder, to her wrist, then to her hip and thigh as if promising to make good his need for a longer contract—as if he’d be coming for her and wanted her to know it.

She sensed that
about Alek. That he was coming for her very quickly—Elspeth frowned. She’d take her time deciding what was right for her. After a lifetime of the Tallchief brothers, she wouldn’t be pushed.

A concession—no, a loving—on
Tallchief Mountain, at the farm, in the barn, on the meadow—the back of her van would never seem the same again—a concession was all she was making at the time.

Alek had that look. He’d made up his mind to it, locked his teeth into it, and he’d gnaw at it until he got his way.

Elspeth glanced at Sybil, who had been too quiet all evening.
^4t
Are you feeling all right?”

Sybil studied Elspeth. “You should know. You usually know when something is brewing with the Tallchiefs…when Calum brought Talia home the first time…when Duncan—”

Elspeth caught
a quick image of Sybil, rounded and glowing. “You’re pregnant!” Elspeth exclaimed, delighted.

“Yep. Again. Three months gone.” She lifted her wineglass, filled with lemonade. “A small concession I’ve been making for three months, right here, every Tuesday night. Duncan knew immediately, almost as soon as when we—” She stopped and blushed. “When we…”

“But you like a glass of white wine—” Elspeth stared at Sybil, just realizing that she’d missed the entire event.

“Elle, old girl, you’re losing it. Even I thought she was pregnant,” Lacey crowed, propping her work boots up on the table. “When he wasn’t worrying about you, Duncan wore this goofy grin—nobody grins goofier than the Tallchief males. Calum—you can’t tell much about Calum these days—he’s always grinning. That idiot Birk actually picked me up and kissed me. One of those lip-sucking, mind-blowing Tallchief kisses. The ones he uses on his harem. I dumped a gallon of paint on him, and he stood there, sputtering and grinning. “Lacey, I think I’m going to be an uncle again. Don’t I deserve it? Don’t I just?’”

Lacey wiped her mouth as if wiping off his kiss. “Jeez, give those guys babies, and they turn into a pile of daisies.”

“Don’t look so
shocked, Elspeth,” Talia murmured with a grin. “I’d say you’ve been so…busy that your seer and shaman abilities have been shafted.”

“A real demolition derby,” Sybil added, her topaz eyes sparkling.

“Poleaxed.” Talia’s grin widened. “Didn’t know what hit her.”

Lacey smirked. “Yeah. Poleaxed. I’d say that suits her about now.”

“Calum
has another Tallchief cradle hidden away. Sybil has the original, but Tallchief made several others and sold them. Calum is so proud of himself that I couldn’t bear to tell him I found it.” Talia beamed at Elspeth. “You Tallchiefs are so easy. You’ve got all these dark storm clouds swirling around you, and you’re pushovers.”

Sybil gave her a long, cool look. “You’re a Tallchief, Talia.”

Talia smoothed her tummy. “Yeah. And happy of it.”

“Calum found another cradle?” Elspeth shook her head to clear it. She remembered thinking that Calum would soon be finding another cradle.

“Has the Celtic circle and the Tallchief feather markings. It’s beautiful. The guys are at the house now. They’re probably glowing with how they’ve kept Calum’s secret.” Talia’s eyes misted. “I love that guy.”

“They didn’t totally
keep it,” Sybil murmured, her eyes lighting.

“No!
Duncan told you, didn’t he?”

Sybil smoothed her coppery chignon and smiled. “Darling, what do you think I was after, the night I got pregnant?”

Elspeth stared at her splayed fingers, locked to Maddy’s scarred table. She usually saw everything, images moving through her, and Alek had shattered those visions and replaced them with ones of him. “I think…I think I am going to have to be very careful.”

“Very careful,” Talia and Sybil and Lacey repeated too seriously, and then began laughing outright.

“Should I tell her?” Sybil gasped.

“Do
it.” Talia smoothed her
tummy again. “It’s all right, baby. Auntie Elspeth may scream a little, but—”

“What?” Elspeth demanded, not certain she wanted to know.

“Today at oh…say…eleven o’clock, one tired Alek Petrovna gifted Duncan Tallchief—your eldest brother and therefore the one acting in your father’s stead—with two horses and a flock of prize sheep. It was only two horses and a few sheep, Elspeth. I’d think you’d be worth more. Yes, after a day on Tallchief Mountain and a night at the Kostyas’ farm place, Alek was definitely floating.”

When her mind started clicking again, Elspeth groaned, placed her arms on the table and sank her head down to them. “Do you know how it feels to have an entire town know everything?”

“Details, Syb,” Lacey demanded, setting down her beer mug.

Talia grinned. “I knew it. Junior is just as old-fashioned as Pop. Mom said she sometimes felt that Dad was a steamroller once he’d got it in his mind that she was the one for him. Of course, she gave him the idea in the first place. The horse and sheep are a version of the Petrovna bridal price. Tallchiefs aren’t the only one with traditions.”

Elspeth allowed herself another groan. She should have understood Alek’s look; she should have stopped him.

Talia’s laughter rippled over the room. “Syb, it’s your decision. Alek is merely following our family tradition and showing that he wants you and that he’ll take good care of you and that he sets your value at a few sheep and two horses.”

Sybil rubbed Elspeth’s shoulders and continued, her voice humming with laughter. “It was all very formal. Duncan stood there, tall and formidable, his arms crossed over his chest. By the way, darling, Duncan and Calum and Birk were all watching your progress up the mountain Sunday morning. It was a regular spy mission with phones ringing, regular reports and binoculars. I believe the words ‘She nabbed him,’ were used. He said, ‘Didn’t have a chance with her on his trail.’ Birk said something about he and Fiona being the last of the mavericks. He sounded as if he were mourning the passing of an era.”

Elspeth rubbed her aching temples. “Sybil, I love my brothers. But I could kill them.”

“Don’t worry about Birk. He’ll be picking up another marriage prospect next week. He’d be all duded up and hot to trot,” Lacey stated. “Get on with it. I’m all ears.”

“So back
to the High Noon of yesterday. There Duncan was shooting bullets with each stare and Alek leading the horses while herding the sheep. They’re lovely sheep, Duncan said—”

“Sybil…” Lacey urged
impatiently.

Elspeth sat up and lifted one finger. Maddy swooshed to her with another glass of white wine.

“It was really lovely and formal. A male-bonding thing. There wasn’t an ounce of giving in Duncan or in Alek. I could barely keep Megan quiet, and then she launched herself at Alek and he cuddled her. He stood, combat boots locked to the porch, all tall and hard and tough and determined male, and cuddled Meggie on his hip.”

Sybil took a
sip of lemonade before continuing. “Duncan was weakening by then, but he leveled questions like a gunslinger at showdown time, and Alek answered them carefully, exactly. One of them was quite exact—‘She cut your hair?’ Alek said you did and at last Duncan nodded and said, ‘Aye.’ Then he added a threat about what would happen if Alek broke your heart. By that time, I was crying. After that, they both went to chop wood, just swinging axes away as if they wanted to brawl and knew they’d better not. Wood flew everywhere. It looked like a lumberjack contest. I found Duncan later, alone in the barn. His eyes were wet, he was hugging one of the sheep and he said he thought he was developing allergies and that there was too much hay dust in the barn.”

“Ha! Allergies, my foot!” Lacey exclaimed. “He cried because his baby Elspeth was leaving his nest.”

Sybil arched a brow. “Don’t you ever say anything like that around him, Lacey. He’s delicate and needs protection, but especially now. He’s been having morning sickness.”

Elspeth managed to speak. “I believe
that Mr. Alek Petrovna has a lesson to learn. He should have discussed this with me first—what exactly did Alek want, Sybil?”

“Your hand in marriage. He wanted permission to court you, and sure enough there you were cruising in his Chevy last night.”

“You’re absolutely right. He should have asked you to marry him first…didn’t he?” Talia clearly was not happy with her brother.

“He did
not. He’s pushy, Sybil. I haven’t decided whether I like the man or not. At the moment, I do not believe I want anything to do with Alek. Other than to teach him a lesson.”

Sybil leveled a look at Elspeth. “There’s a big difference between
love
and
like.
I always love Duncan, but sometimes I really don’t like him.”

Lacey licked the beer foam off her upper lip. “Birk dumped poor Chelsey Lang. I have no idea why. She’s such a sweet, old-fashioned, homey-type girl, too. Looks fertile…massive mammaries and big hips, just like what you’d think a Tallchief would want—no offense, Syb…Talia. Yep, I’d have thought Birk would have wanted that one. Instead he dumped her. Men.”

Lacey’s tone put the male species in a box with cockroaches. The four women shot Maddy a dark look that sent him scurrying toward Miss Loretta. When he realized how close he was to her proximity, he reeled back, knocked over two liquor bottles and caught them. He kept a wary eye on Loretta as he wiped his bar.