regretting the boy’s growing up. Then Birk bent to playfully nuzzle his heavily pregnant petite wife, and she elbowed him with enough strength to make him grunt. Retaliating, Birk brought Lacey’s small hand to his mouth to kiss her palm. The humble gesture was so sincere and filled with love that Michelle almost found herself sighing.
But then, she was a practical woman and she’d completed her mission, breaking a fingernail earlier as she had stacked his dishes in the cupboard. Liam Tallchief deserved no more of her time, though she hoped to see J.T. whenever she could.
“Da-da?” Ian Palladin, Fiona’s toddler son chirped and patted Liam’s arm.
“Case of mistaken identity,” Talia, Calum’s wife, said with a grin. “Poor baby is confused. Joel, Rafe and Nick Palladin all look alike, and so do the Tallchief boys, but Alek is a loner—”
“‘Boys’?” Calum, known as Calum the Cool, purred with a slow, hot look at his wife.
“Liam does look like one of the brothers,” Sybil murmured, tracing his features and then turning to study the matching ones of her husband, Duncan.
As the rest of the family talked and ate and teased each other, Michelle studied Liam, looking after his son, his expression sad. On a sudden impulse, she didn’t know why—because she wasn’t a woman who showed affection easily—Michelle patted his cheek.
His aching pain was quickly slashed away by searing anger. “Leave me alone,” he said too quietly.
“You made a choice and it was for your son. J.T. needs this and so do you, whether you’re liking it now or not…. Stand and fight,” she whispered back, shaking with her own anger. She jabbed a finger into his chest and didn’t remove it when he looked slowly, meaningfully down. She prodded him again, careless of the hard, tense muscles running beneath the cloth. “You took the name Tallchief, didn’t you? ‘Stand and fight’ is one of their phrases, used in hard times.”
“I choose what I take,” he returned curtly with a touch of arrogance much like Tallchief must have used.
“Then take this,” she murmured more coolly than she felt as she stood away from the table. She lifted her glass of ice water to pour over his head. While Liam glared at her and ice water dripped down his face, Michelle raised her head proudly. She wouldn’t apologize—not to him. Horrified, she stared at the water dripping to the place mat woven with Celtic and Native American images. She’d totally embarrassed herself and the expensive charm school that her father had forced her to attend. Her cheeks were hot, her dignity was on the hand-braided rug at her feet, and down the long table, the adult Tallchief family studied her. While smiles flirted around their mouths, their eyes held a knowing look.
J.T. giggled suddenly, clapped his hands, and Liam’s head jerked to his son. The boy began to laugh outright, the sound delightful. When Liam turned back to look up at Michelle, she didn’t trust his dark, dangerous look…nor her own wild mood. With as much dignity as she could scrape up from the rug, she managed, “I think I’ll just take a walk. Excuse me, please.”
In the next moment she was hurrying down the pathto Tallchief Lake, careless of the brush tugging at her head and body. She lived her life in logical one-two-three steps, acted logically, and now she’d just dumped a glass of ice water over a man’s head—in front of a family she adored. She began to run, careless of the cream silk designer blouse and loose black silk slacks. The strap of one Italian-made sandal tore away, caught on a bush, and she hobbled along the rest of the distance to the shore of the dark, brooding lake. A gentle wind stirred the reeds along the river bank and rippled the water.
Tallchief Mountain, etched with fir and pines, dappled with tiny meadows and jutting rocks, soared up into the sunset, shading the lake. Michelle hobbled to a rock, careful of the torn strap, and sank down upon
But then, she was a practical woman and she’d completed her mission, breaking a fingernail earlier as she had stacked his dishes in the cupboard. Liam Tallchief deserved no more of her time, though she hoped to see J.T. whenever she could.
“Da-da?” Ian Palladin, Fiona’s toddler son chirped and patted Liam’s arm.
“Case of mistaken identity,” Talia, Calum’s wife, said with a grin. “Poor baby is confused. Joel, Rafe and Nick Palladin all look alike, and so do the Tallchief boys, but Alek is a loner—”
“‘Boys’?” Calum, known as Calum the Cool, purred with a slow, hot look at his wife.
“Liam does look like one of the brothers,” Sybil murmured, tracing his features and then turning to study the matching ones of her husband, Duncan.
As the rest of the family talked and ate and teased each other, Michelle studied Liam, looking after his son, his expression sad. On a sudden impulse, she didn’t know why—because she wasn’t a woman who showed affection easily—Michelle patted his cheek.
His aching pain was quickly slashed away by searing anger. “Leave me alone,” he said too quietly.
“You made a choice and it was for your son. J.T. needs this and so do you, whether you’re liking it now or not…. Stand and fight,” she whispered back, shaking with her own anger. She jabbed a finger into his chest and didn’t remove it when he looked slowly, meaningfully down. She prodded him again, careless of the hard, tense muscles running beneath the cloth. “You took the name Tallchief, didn’t you? ‘Stand and fight’ is one of their phrases, used in hard times.”
“I choose what I take,” he returned curtly with a touch of arrogance much like Tallchief must have used.
“Then take this,” she murmured more coolly than she felt as she stood away from the table. She lifted her glass of ice water to pour over his head. While Liam glared at her and ice water dripped down his face, Michelle raised her head proudly. She wouldn’t apologize—not to him. Horrified, she stared at the water dripping to the place mat woven with Celtic and Native American images. She’d totally embarrassed herself and the expensive charm school that her father had forced her to attend. Her cheeks were hot, her dignity was on the hand-braided rug at her feet, and down the long table, the adult Tallchief family studied her. While smiles flirted around their mouths, their eyes held a knowing look.
J.T. giggled suddenly, clapped his hands, and Liam’s head jerked to his son. The boy began to laugh outright, the sound delightful. When Liam turned back to look up at Michelle, she didn’t trust his dark, dangerous look…nor her own wild mood. With as much dignity as she could scrape up from the rug, she managed, “I think I’ll just take a walk. Excuse me, please.”
In the next moment she was hurrying down the pathto Tallchief Lake, careless of the brush tugging at her head and body. She lived her life in logical one-two-three steps, acted logically, and now she’d just dumped a glass of ice water over a man’s head—in front of a family she adored. She began to run, careless of the cream silk designer blouse and loose black silk slacks. The strap of one Italian-made sandal tore away, caught on a bush, and she hobbled along the rest of the distance to the shore of the dark, brooding lake. A gentle wind stirred the reeds along the river bank and rippled the water.
Tallchief Mountain, etched with fir and pines, dappled with tiny meadows and jutting rocks, soared up into the sunset, shading the lake. Michelle hobbled to a rock, careful of the torn strap, and sank down upon
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