Read Online Tallchief: The Homecoming by Cait London - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Cait London
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daring him to taunt her further. Liam’s eyes darkened as he unbuttoned his shirt and held it loosely at his side. “Here. Hold this,” she said, handing her blouse to him.
He tucked a length of her shirt into his back pocket and, still holding her eyes, began to carefully ease her into his shirt. He buttoned it slowly, carefully, as if placing his thoughts in order with each button. “This cheap cotton is a bit more concealing that your silk and lace…. You’re a hothead, Ms. Farrell. A volatile woman—”
“Am not.” She resented the childish statement flinging from her lips. After all she was a businesswoman, an executive—
“Hot-blooded and sweet and bewitching,” he added, lifting her hair away from the shirt’s collar to study the strands clinging to his fingers in the moonlight. “But a little too much trouble.”
With that, he bent slightly and hefted her over his shoulder. While Michelle held her sandal and wondered what had happened, Liam began to walk back to the Tallchiefs. “You’d better put me down,” she yelled, and began squirming.
The big hand on her bottom kept her still and locked to him. Unused to being handled, Michelle tried her best to be poised—but then dangling over a man’s broad shoulder didn’t allow much for dignity. He did put her down in front of the assembled Tallchief family, andwhen she whipped around to tell him exactly where to go, he grinned. “You said ‘put me down.”’
As if it were evidence before the jury, he reached to his back pocket and handed the muddy blouse to her. To the Tallchiefs standing on the big front porch, he said, “She can’t talk right now. She’s in a snit and she apologizes.”
Then he placed his big hand on her head and waggled it gently, playfully, until she slashed it away. Michelle looked up at his smile and the humor lighting his gray eyes and wanted to toss him onto the ground and thoroughly mash him, kiss that smile from his lips and explore that lovely, gleaming broad chest. But pride and temper ruled her, and she managed to grasp a small measure of control as she marched up the steps, carrying her shoe. “It was a lovely dinner and a lovely swim, and Mr. Tallchief assures me that he’ll be coming back to visit you. But I’m going home now, to Silver’s. Business calls, you know,” she lied with as much dignity as she could summon. “Thank you for the wonderful evening.”
Four
T he next afternoon Elspeth opened the door at the first knock. In her mind, while tending her herbs, she’d seen Liam Tallchief walking toward her, his heart questioning. Wanting to have Liam to herself, she’d asked Alek to take the children to the ice cream parlor. Loving a woman descended from a Scottish seer and a Native American shaman, Alek knew when her senses were prowling. She looked up at the man filling her doorway, his face masked in the shadows of the past. He looked so much like her brothers, but while their pain had been eased by love, Liam wore his scars like a silent cloak. “I’m glad you came,” she said simply. “Time for fresh applesauce cake and iced tea, and time to talk,” she added, sensing his need and noting the small wooden chest tucked beneath his arm.
Liam wore a clean, long-sleeved cotton shirt and the loose carpenter pants she’d seen his son gripping tightly.She ached for him, a man alone and trying his best for his son. “Emily is baby-sitting, then. She’s got a way with children, especially the boys. She’ll be off again to college soon, and leaving a trail of broken hearts,” she said as she led Liam into her workroom, filled with Una’s loom and the herbs that would dye the Tallchief wool into colored yarn.
For what she must do, Elspeth chose the most familiar setting, the room layered with her weaving and her family’s past. Una’s journals stacked neatly on one shelf, waiting for Liam. Scents from the hanging lavender bundles curled around her, and she prayed that this lonely, scarred
He tucked a length of her shirt into his back pocket and, still holding her eyes, began to carefully ease her into his shirt. He buttoned it slowly, carefully, as if placing his thoughts in order with each button. “This cheap cotton is a bit more concealing that your silk and lace…. You’re a hothead, Ms. Farrell. A volatile woman—”
“Am not.” She resented the childish statement flinging from her lips. After all she was a businesswoman, an executive—
“Hot-blooded and sweet and bewitching,” he added, lifting her hair away from the shirt’s collar to study the strands clinging to his fingers in the moonlight. “But a little too much trouble.”
With that, he bent slightly and hefted her over his shoulder. While Michelle held her sandal and wondered what had happened, Liam began to walk back to the Tallchiefs. “You’d better put me down,” she yelled, and began squirming.
The big hand on her bottom kept her still and locked to him. Unused to being handled, Michelle tried her best to be poised—but then dangling over a man’s broad shoulder didn’t allow much for dignity. He did put her down in front of the assembled Tallchief family, andwhen she whipped around to tell him exactly where to go, he grinned. “You said ‘put me down.”’
As if it were evidence before the jury, he reached to his back pocket and handed the muddy blouse to her. To the Tallchiefs standing on the big front porch, he said, “She can’t talk right now. She’s in a snit and she apologizes.”
Then he placed his big hand on her head and waggled it gently, playfully, until she slashed it away. Michelle looked up at his smile and the humor lighting his gray eyes and wanted to toss him onto the ground and thoroughly mash him, kiss that smile from his lips and explore that lovely, gleaming broad chest. But pride and temper ruled her, and she managed to grasp a small measure of control as she marched up the steps, carrying her shoe. “It was a lovely dinner and a lovely swim, and Mr. Tallchief assures me that he’ll be coming back to visit you. But I’m going home now, to Silver’s. Business calls, you know,” she lied with as much dignity as she could summon. “Thank you for the wonderful evening.”
Four
T he next afternoon Elspeth opened the door at the first knock. In her mind, while tending her herbs, she’d seen Liam Tallchief walking toward her, his heart questioning. Wanting to have Liam to herself, she’d asked Alek to take the children to the ice cream parlor. Loving a woman descended from a Scottish seer and a Native American shaman, Alek knew when her senses were prowling. She looked up at the man filling her doorway, his face masked in the shadows of the past. He looked so much like her brothers, but while their pain had been eased by love, Liam wore his scars like a silent cloak. “I’m glad you came,” she said simply. “Time for fresh applesauce cake and iced tea, and time to talk,” she added, sensing his need and noting the small wooden chest tucked beneath his arm.
Liam wore a clean, long-sleeved cotton shirt and the loose carpenter pants she’d seen his son gripping tightly.She ached for him, a man alone and trying his best for his son. “Emily is baby-sitting, then. She’s got a way with children, especially the boys. She’ll be off again to college soon, and leaving a trail of broken hearts,” she said as she led Liam into her workroom, filled with Una’s loom and the herbs that would dye the Tallchief wool into colored yarn.
For what she must do, Elspeth chose the most familiar setting, the room layered with her weaving and her family’s past. Una’s journals stacked neatly on one shelf, waiting for Liam. Scents from the hanging lavender bundles curled around her, and she prayed that this lonely, scarred
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