J.T. should be a part of it. Not every family could forgive the sons of the man who murdered their parents. Yet all three of the murderer’s sons, the Palladins, married Tallchiefs. J.T. should know of the traditions of Una and Tallchief.”
Elspeth was silent, but smiled softly. She drew a tiny waving tendril from Michelle’s cheek, studying it in the filtered sunlight of the window. “The boy has snagged your heart and you’re fighting for him and maybe for yourself, too. Tallchief made many cribs, you know, to earn money for his family. Sybil, Duncan’s wife, is a genealogist and loves a good hunt for treasures. She brought the original one to Duncan, the one Tallchief gave to Una for their five babies. Una wouldn’t marry him without a dowry, so he made the first and gave it to his father to keep her pride. My mother worked on Una’s journals, and I helped. Sybil sometimes finds items related to our family. She’s always trying to find another crib. She’s working on that now.”
“Another Tallchief baby?”
“Maybe,” Elspeth said lightly and smiled lightly as she turned away.
At the dinner table later, J.T. sat on Liam’s lap and shyly smiled at Emily, Sybil’s college-age daughter. Emily tossed her red hair, and Joel Palladin’s preteen son, Cody, let out a love-struck, worshipful sigh. A known charmer and confident of her powers, she smiled at him and riffled J.T.’s hair. “Hey, little man. Why don’t you come sit on my lap and let your daddy eat his homemade ice cream?”
J.T.’s tentative smile said he wanted to, but—He looked up at Liam, who nodded solemnly. Liam had been too quiet, his smoky gaze slowly taking in the big family room. He tensed when he noted the barn board stamped with the Tallchief Cattle Ranch stick man and mountain, and his big hand crushed the woven napkin, the knuckles white. Why had he frowned so fiercely?
He breathed hard, the vein in his throat throbbing beneath his dark skin. As though sensing Michelle’s study, his face jerked to hers, and she saw his pain, mixed with anger. He resented her seeing that—inside him where the dark mysteries flowed, into the man he was, kept from others. To let him know that she’d seen and would not be turned away, Michelle smiled sweetly and fluttered her lashes. She hadn’t much experience in touting feminine airs, but the moment was too good to pass.
Liam tore his fierce scowl from his face and met her smile, the warmth not rising to his eyes. Then he looked to the red Native American shield that had been Tallchief’s, and the old cradle rich with Celtic images and scarred by teething babies. Elspeth’s rugs and woven goods circled the home, and more than once, Duncan—known as The Defender—searched out Liam’s gaze. The message was from male to male, locking and holding and sliding away to pin Michelle. Unfamiliar with the dark intense look, Michelle shivered when Liam’s gaze brushed her mouth.
Fire and storms lashed at her again, drying her mouth and sending her heart fluttering in her throat. She knew she’d long remember the uncivilized hard taste of his mouth, a burning stamp across her own. She hated the trembling of her fingers locked to her iced water glass, an obvious note that he was getting to her. In another instant, if Liam did not stop that smoky, intent stare, she’d dump the—
From then on, J.T. moved into the mass of Tallchief children, his hand locked tightly in Emily’s. “You look enough alike to be one of my uncles and I’m going to claim you as another of my Black Knights. Duncan rescued me when I was a child, but I claim all the Tallchief men as my knights. They’ve been there often enough forme. You can call me princess like they do, and I babysit, you know,” she said, grinning at Liam. “Can he ride horses? I’d take good care of him.”
J.T.’s eyes widened. “Horses? Me? Ride?”
Clearly the little boy worshipped Emily. One look at Liam told Michelle that he was already
Elspeth was silent, but smiled softly. She drew a tiny waving tendril from Michelle’s cheek, studying it in the filtered sunlight of the window. “The boy has snagged your heart and you’re fighting for him and maybe for yourself, too. Tallchief made many cribs, you know, to earn money for his family. Sybil, Duncan’s wife, is a genealogist and loves a good hunt for treasures. She brought the original one to Duncan, the one Tallchief gave to Una for their five babies. Una wouldn’t marry him without a dowry, so he made the first and gave it to his father to keep her pride. My mother worked on Una’s journals, and I helped. Sybil sometimes finds items related to our family. She’s always trying to find another crib. She’s working on that now.”
“Another Tallchief baby?”
“Maybe,” Elspeth said lightly and smiled lightly as she turned away.
At the dinner table later, J.T. sat on Liam’s lap and shyly smiled at Emily, Sybil’s college-age daughter. Emily tossed her red hair, and Joel Palladin’s preteen son, Cody, let out a love-struck, worshipful sigh. A known charmer and confident of her powers, she smiled at him and riffled J.T.’s hair. “Hey, little man. Why don’t you come sit on my lap and let your daddy eat his homemade ice cream?”
J.T.’s tentative smile said he wanted to, but—He looked up at Liam, who nodded solemnly. Liam had been too quiet, his smoky gaze slowly taking in the big family room. He tensed when he noted the barn board stamped with the Tallchief Cattle Ranch stick man and mountain, and his big hand crushed the woven napkin, the knuckles white. Why had he frowned so fiercely?
He breathed hard, the vein in his throat throbbing beneath his dark skin. As though sensing Michelle’s study, his face jerked to hers, and she saw his pain, mixed with anger. He resented her seeing that—inside him where the dark mysteries flowed, into the man he was, kept from others. To let him know that she’d seen and would not be turned away, Michelle smiled sweetly and fluttered her lashes. She hadn’t much experience in touting feminine airs, but the moment was too good to pass.
Liam tore his fierce scowl from his face and met her smile, the warmth not rising to his eyes. Then he looked to the red Native American shield that had been Tallchief’s, and the old cradle rich with Celtic images and scarred by teething babies. Elspeth’s rugs and woven goods circled the home, and more than once, Duncan—known as The Defender—searched out Liam’s gaze. The message was from male to male, locking and holding and sliding away to pin Michelle. Unfamiliar with the dark intense look, Michelle shivered when Liam’s gaze brushed her mouth.
Fire and storms lashed at her again, drying her mouth and sending her heart fluttering in her throat. She knew she’d long remember the uncivilized hard taste of his mouth, a burning stamp across her own. She hated the trembling of her fingers locked to her iced water glass, an obvious note that he was getting to her. In another instant, if Liam did not stop that smoky, intent stare, she’d dump the—
From then on, J.T. moved into the mass of Tallchief children, his hand locked tightly in Emily’s. “You look enough alike to be one of my uncles and I’m going to claim you as another of my Black Knights. Duncan rescued me when I was a child, but I claim all the Tallchief men as my knights. They’ve been there often enough forme. You can call me princess like they do, and I babysit, you know,” she said, grinning at Liam. “Can he ride horses? I’d take good care of him.”
J.T.’s eyes widened. “Horses? Me? Ride?”
Clearly the little boy worshipped Emily. One look at Liam told Michelle that he was already
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