Tallchief for Keeps Read online

  “Here’s a challenge for you, Mr. Petrovna.”

  She intended the kiss to be sensual, but she hadn’t prepared for the instant tenderness he returned, the gentle tempo of his lips brushing hers lightly and hers following his. He tasted of everything she’d missed and everything she wanted to grasp selfishly for herself. Unaccustomed to greed, Elspeth reeled in the need to vanquish Alek, to pit herself against him. She moved closer, allowed her body to lightly touch his. Alek tensed, the movement satisfying her.

  No, it didn’t. Nothing could satisfy her but bringing him to his knees.

  A siren wailed in the street below as Elspeth trailed a fingertip down his cheek and watched his expression harden. Because she knew she must, Elspeth stood on tiptoe and lightly kissed the scar on Alek’s lip.

  He jerked her to him, wrapped his arms around her waist and hauled her into the shadows of the potted bushes. Elspeth gripped the shawl with both fists. “Alek, you’re over your head.”

  “Am I? You’ll have to show me, won’t you?” Alek’s hands went beneath the soft shawl. He touched her breasts lightly, tracing the shape of them. Elspeth breathed quietly, uncertain now. His prowling fingertip slipped beneath the bodice and stroked her softness. She wanted to be immune to his touch, to walk away unaffected. Alek leaned close to her, placed his scarred cheek against her smooth one and stood very still, allowing her the freedom to walk away. He wasn’t holding her; he breathed heavily, his fingertips smoothing her breasts, following the shape of her slowly. Then his hands cupped her breasts firmly, possessively. He bent slowly to place his face in the curve of her throat and shoulder. Her heart pounded heavily, racing…. The woman in her stirred, softened and wanted….

  Elspeth closed her eyes. Alek wasn’t taking; he was giving himself to her care. Nothing could have been more effective.

  His lips moved, kissing her throat, and she feared to breathe, her fingers fluttering against the soft wool around his shoulders.

  She wanted him against her, deep inside where heat forged them as one—where the pounding of their blood couldn’t be defined as his or hers.

  She’d have him frothing and then she’d walk away, leaving him to simmer in what he had started. There would be no Petrovna’s law where she was concerned; Alek had tossed her a challenge she couldn’t resist.

  Elspeth slid her hands under his suit, caressed his chest and placed one palm over his heavily beating heart. Alek tensed, then ripped away the shawl and his jacket and caught Elspeth close again. “Touch me. Make me feel, Elspeth.”

  He pulled the pins from her hair, releasing it and burying his face in it. Elspeth fought the emotions rising in her; she was too susceptible to Alek’s tender touch.

  Alek bent and lifted her in his arms. He raised her to kiss her throat. Elspeth dug her fingers into his shoulders, shaking, fighting. She hesitated, poised at the edge of a dangerous abyss, hovering between staying in the shadows and taking what she desired.

  Desire. Heat. Hunger.

  Alek’s heated face pressed against her throat, and he dragged aside one strap of her dress with his teeth, instantly claiming her breast with his lips. Shocked by the intimate heat, the laving of his tongue, Elspeth tensed, caught on the edge of surprise and delight. Another flick of his tongue, the edge of his teeth, and she fought the fire rising in her, stepped into heated space and gave herself to the gentle suckling until she was shaking. She pressed his head against her, running her fingers through the black curls and gave herself to the heat of his mouth, the sensations coursing through her, the need to be alive, to take, to give. When Alek lowered her, she raised her arms to capture him and gave him her mouth.

  He was gentle, tempting her tongue with his.

  She was on fire, wanting him closer.

  This was Alek, her Alek, her lover and—He groaned unevenly, shaking in her arms, exciting her. His hands trembled when he touched her lightly, and it wasn’t enough. Elspeth nipped at his throat, and Alek shuddered; his hands smoothed her hips, then locked to her and pushed her against his steely need.

  His palms ran down her thighs, trembling, easing the gown higher until he touched her soft, quivering thighs. His fingers explored the lacy elastic of her stockings and then found the satin lace covering her femininity.

  She moved slightly, and his fingers caressed the damp satin, sliding inside to the heat—“Alek!”

  His body supported her as the pounding, the intimate clenching, began, riveting her until she climbed the peak and then gently, slowly melted against him.

  Alek shook, taut with need as he kissed her and soothed the tremors running through her. “Elspeth,” he whispered hoarsely against her loosened hair.

  His tone sent her tumbling into another time, when another woman’s name crossed his lips.

  Reality and shame came creeping softly to her. She wanted to walk away and couldn’t, her legs still trembling. Alek had taken her beyond what she wanted, to prove she could take him down—

  He smoothed her hair, drawing her head to rest on his chest. “Let me hold you.”

  Alek rocked her gently, and Elspeth gave herself to a safety she hadn’t known since her parents died. She should have moved away; she couldn’t. She closed her eyes and knew that she didn’t want to think, to fight him…not now.

  “You are not a nice man. I think I’m going to kill you,” she said finally, faced with the reality of a gallery filled with clients already curious about her. She had to get away; she’d exposed her needs. She trembled and waited for Alek to speak. In another minute, she’d shatter….

  He brought her hair to his lips, his eyes burning as he looked down at her. “Blush is definitely your color.”

  Alek turned her and began combing her hair. She shivered, emotions streaking through her; she’d just threatened to kill him—not seriously—but she intended to nick him in a few places where it would count.

  The novelty of being tended startled Elspeth; usually she was the caregiver. “You’ve done this before.”

  Of course he had; Alek Petrovna had devoured experienced women. “I had baby sisters. Anton couldn’t be trusted not to tie their hair in knots.”

  She didn’t believe him, not for a moment. Alek had touched her with experience.

  Mark suddenly appeared in the lighted doorway. “Come on, Elspeth. They want to meet you. She’s been nervous all day, Alek.”

  “She’s relaxed a bit.” Alek’s Texas drawl was back and filled with amusement. He stared down at her, the angles of his face rigid and reflecting his desire for her. She’d done that much at least—raised his desire. A quick learner, she could have him panting and giving her the shawl….

  He jerked her hair lightly, forcing her to look at him over her shoulder. “You’ll have to work a bit harder to get that shawl, my fair Elspeth,” he whispered huskily.

  “You think I…?” She began to wonder if her hands would fit around Alek’s thick neck.

  Mark came closer, clearly curious about Alek combing Elspeth’s hair. Alek made one long braid, then reached to neatly tear away a fringe from her bodice, which he used to tie off the braid.

  Mark moved to Elspeth’s back. “Good job. Gave her a neck massage, did you? Good for tense muscles. I should have thought of that—the Native American look mixed with a contemporary businesswoman. You missed a strand, Alek. Do it again.”

  “Do you want to?” Alek was not amused.

  “Heck, no. You won’t catch me braiding a girl’s hair. Your hands are shaking. Alek, you look like you want to strangle someone. Be cool, guy. She’ll be okay—”

  “I think tomorrow I’ll strangle you slowly,” Alek muttered darkly.

  “Will the two of you stop?” Elspeth wanted to escape Alek’s touch and her shattered emotions and the people waiting for her.

  Somehow she managed the evening, taunted by Alek wearing Una’s bright shawl around his broad shoulders. Folded triangularly, the fiery red-and-gold point shot off one shoulder, the fringes dancing as he moved. He wasn’
t prettily handsome, his features too rugged. The scars on his cheek and lip enhanced his masculinity, and the soaring scar in his eyebrow needed a woman’s touch to smooth it.

  Looking like a dangerous pirate, he caught the attention of a lush brunette, who snagged his arm. He smiled down at her, and the woman issued an open invitation by leaning closer and licking her glossy lips. A blonde slid her hand through his other arm, and Alek laughed outright at something she said.

  The blonde pushed her breasts against him and spoke intently. Alek leaned down to listen, the woman’s red lips almost touching the earring—LaBelle’s earring—and Elspeth found her hand curled into a fist. His hand rested on the woman’s waist—

  Elspeth lifted her head. He had held her only minutes ago, his tall body rigid and trembling against hers. Now he had another body against him and another one just as willing. Alek’s charm flashed across the room to Elspeth, and she tossed it back with a light “no, thank you” smile.

  He said something to the women and moved purposefully through the gallery crowd toward Elspeth. She wouldn’t move away from his advance; she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. When he came to her side, she leveled a cold look at him. A swaggering, arrogant, hot-for-sex pirate was exactly what she did not want in the arena of her life.

  Alek placed his hand on her waist and walked her across the gallery. As they stood in front of “Untitled,” his hand dropped an inch lower to rest on her hip, fingers splayed possessively. Pushing, she thought. Always pushing.

  “Untitled’ is very erotic. What about titling it ‘The Second Encounter’?” Alek had loosened the top buttons at his throat. Elspeth recognized the mark on his skin; caught in her startling passion, she had nipped at him.

  Alek rubbed his temple, fighting a headache. He was tired and drained, fighting years of sleeplessness and the constant need of Elspeth. The steady sensual humming in his body wasn’t helping his concentration. He clicked off his computer laptop and stood, stretching cramped muscles. Dressed only in his shorts, he padded to the bed in the gallery’s lower apartments and lifted the shawl against him. He had pushed Elspeth too hard, and tonight the walls had gone down. Whatever Elspeth felt about him, there was no mistaking her passion or her need to take him down. It had frightened and angered her, raising the color in her cheeks and deepening her smoky gray eyes.

  He loved her.

  He’d begun to hunt her with rage and then a clinical, cutting revenge, tethering her with the contract Along the way, he’d fallen in love with her. Maybe he’d always been in love with her since that haunting night in Scotland.

  A noise drew him to the empty, darkened gallery. Elspeth, wrapped in an old flannel robe, stood before “Untitled,” studying her work. Wool drifted from her hand, as though “Untitled” had drawn her from her weaving.

  Alek closed the door, allowing her privacy. He drew the shawl across his cheek, pressing it against his face. The merino wool was soft and light with a life of its own…he wanted Elspeth to want him as much as she wanted the shawl. If he came to Elspeth now, he’d want to make love with her, and though tonight had shown him a flash of her passion, he wanted more than a quickening from Elspeth.

  He wanted her awakening.

  “All right, Alek. You’ve had your fun. I’ll buy Una’s shawl. How much?” Elspeth leaned back against the van’s passenger seat and faced the passing scenery. After a week of press interviews and parties, they were on their way to the first exhibit in another gallery.

  She could have walked out, dismissing the contract. But she was a Tallchief, bred to honor commitments. Until her obligations were met, Alek had her within reach. He’d waited, and now they were alone. Alek rubbed LaBelle’s earring. “The shawl is not for sale.”

  When she turned to him, her sunglasses like mirrors, Alek placed a dried apricot against her lips. Elspeth had her vices, he’d discovered, and dried apricots were definitely a priority. Hand-feeding Elspeth was an experience he savored. Or was it torture to watch her lips curve around the morsel, her teeth bite into it? She’d actually taken what he had offered. He rubbed her lip with his thumb and sucked an orange tidbit into his mouth. “The shawl requires the legend.”

  “It’s my heritage,” Elspeth muttered around the apricot.

  “So’s the legend. They’re a package deal. You give me one, and I give you the other.”

  “The Paisley mills in Scotland produced excellent work from the early 1700s on. The shawls are pure art. Only a—”

  “I admire art,” he stated, comfortable with whatever names she would call him.

  She stared at him, one sleek black brow lifted in disbelief. “You blockhead.”

  “Sweetheart. Baby-doll.” Alek grinned when Elspeth’s mouth curved slightly.

  “I’m not a baby-doll. You’ve got the wrong woman, Alek.”

  “Have I?” Alek tugged her sunglasses away; he wanted to see her eyes, watch the color change shades with her emotions. When he told her what lay between them, he wanted to see her eyes. “I haven’t been with another woman since that night, Elspeth.”

  Again Elspeth lifted a disbelieving, sleek eyebrow in his direction.

  That grated. “You’re not making this easy, Elspeth. I’m sharing a bit of Petrovna insight here. My sex life is a private matter.”

  “Oh, I’m sure,” she murmured too easily.

  Alek passed a truck and, after checking his rearview mirror, swerved back into the lane. He glanced at her rigid expression, the set of her jaw. Elspeth had plenty to chew on; she might as well hear more. There was nothing like baring his soul to a woman who would walk away from him the moment she could. Okay, he was a sucker for pain, Alek thought as he plunged on. <4I loved Melissa. I told her not to come to me, not to enter the war zone, but it was our anniversary and she wanted…us to be together.”

  Alek tightened his fingers on the steering wheel, his knuckles white with tension. He swerved to avoid a squirrel and dropped back into the terror years ago. “The rocket was a direct hit in the tiny room. It exploded instantly, and Melissa screamed. I’ll never forget the sound of—shrieks, blind, terrified, shrieks of pain—”

  “Alek…” Elspeth touched his hand; he locked her fingers with his, bringing their clasped hands to his thigh.

  He took her hand and brought her fingertips to his mouth. “Td seen everything by then—hungry orphans, starving elderly, mass graves in war-torn countries. Melissa’s dying was—”

  “Alek, those things are in the past.” Elspeth’s voice | ran on a thin, trembling thread, snaring him with her emotions.

  He kissed her palm, studied her slender, capable fingers. “The past is with us, just like my scars, and I want you to understand. After…I knew what I had to do, to hurt you…to make the break clean. You had your whole life ahead of you, and I had nothing.

  I Maybe I got scared, so I said what I had to and left you.”

  Her wary expression hurt him more than he’d expected. He pulled a small, worn envelope from his pocket and handed it to her.

  She carefully opened and eased a tattered woven swatch from the envelope. Her fingers trembled, running over the wool. “It’s mine. I was studying mordants to set the color and used copperas on this. The dye is a heather olive.”

  “I found heather sprigs and the swatch stuck to my clothing. The heather crumbled right away.” He’d crushed it, diving under twisted barbed wire. The swatch was all he’d had left of Elspeth, a silly little bit of cloth that had reminded him of life and tenderness and hope.

  She looked down, then away into the mountains, the sunlight skimming her high cheekbones and sweeping down her bare throat. There beneath her lightly tanned skin, a vein pulsed heavily, and Alek prayed it was because she thought of him.

  Six

  Alek, this isn’t working. You’re intruding into my life. I do not like you acting as though I am your possession. “The storm outside equaled Elspeth’s raw emotions. A week and a half of Alek invading her life, snaring her into sleepless night
s, was taking a toll on her nerves. She opened the apartment door to Mark, who had returned to the gallery’s apartment with cartons of Chinese food. She helped him place them on the coffee table, then sat on the couch and began filling their plates.

  She’d missed the closeness of a family, eating together and sharing small talk over the table.

  Alek glanced up from his laptop computer, a pencil shoved over his ear. In a startling change from whatever interested him to complete absorption with her, he spoke quietly. “I have to get this story done. Why don’t you tell me what’s bothering you? Don’t spare my feelings.”

  “I was telling you, Alek.” Thunder crashed as he watched her with interest. “You’re steaming, Elspeth. Come on, let it all out.”

  “Will you two kiss and make up?” Mark complained. “It’s safer out there in the lightning storm than in here with you. You’ve been like this since you got back from that last trip. Neither one of you look like you’ve had a minute’s sleep.”

  Elspeth placed the points of her chopsticks on his chest. “You mutter when you’re distracted, Mark. Alek hovers. You both are—”

  She inhaled a quieting breath and began again. “I am not used to being pampered…to being tucked in at night. He physically dragged me away from my I work and plopped me in bed, Mark. He brings me a breakfast tray in the morning. Alek actually told a very nice man that he didn’t deserve one of my hangings.”

  She ached from the long day, traveling to the showing with Alek, and she…she didn’t want to share herself with Alek, who watched her carefully from what she ate to…Elspeth had just noted that his hair needed trimming and he’d lost weight. Alek Petrovna was not a man to care for himself, his needs untended. Her gaze skimmed him, from dress shirt to worn jeans and socks. He needed a shave and someone to care for him. She glanced at his rumpled shirt, opened at the collar and revealing a soft curl of black hair. She didn’t want to care—