Tallchief: The Hunter Read Free Page B

one light touch on the mouse brought it to life. He noted the advertisement she was creating on the screen. The vivid red cabbage roses surrounding a sleek, black perfume bottle contrasted the gray day outside. The logo was that of an exclusive perfume designer, Silver Tallchief, who, Adam remembered, was married to Nick Palladin. “I thought you were getting a business degree.”
    “Please leave,” she whispered so softly that the sound of the rain on the roof and windows almost drowned out her words. She pushed a shaky, delicate hand against her face, and when it came away, her cheek gleamed damply.
    He desperately wanted to hold her against him, to protect her. Adam mocked his emotions with a quick, grim smile. He hadn’t come so far in all these twenty-two years, he decided darkly. Jillian could still take his breath away with a look, with a word.
    He slowly pulled on his jacket, sorting through his thoughts. “You came hunting me, Jilly, and now thatyou’ve found me, you want to run. It doesn’t work that way. Not until I’m satisfied. We’ll talk again.”
    “I’ll be gone before that.”
    “Then I’ll come after you.” A memory slithered through the shadows, nagging at him. With his back to her, he asked, “Do you still have the ring I gave you?”
    “I can’t remember,” she said. Her careless tone implied that the ring was long tossed away. “Probably not.”
    He nodded and pushed himself into the cold, gray mist that was safer than his emotions concerning Jillian.
     

    After Adam had gone, Jillian stood very still, battered by the furious past moments.
    At six-feet four inches, Adam Tallchief, dressed in his Scottish ancestral plaid and kilt was not an easy image to push away. He had stood in the doorway, carrying the swirling mist of cold rain with him. It had beaded his wind-whipped, shaggy hair and gleamed upon his dark jacket. The white-frilled dress shirt had contrasted his hard, tanned face and, bound by the Tallchief broach, the plaid had added to the breadth of his shoulders. The kilt had accentuated his masculinity, those strong legs braced apart in a fighter’s stance. Add his stormy temper to the mix and he was unforgettable, tearing into the quiet shadows of her home, slashing at them as surely as he would have held a sword in battle. In shadows, all angles and planes, his rugged face had caught the dim, soothing light in which she preferred to work. The color of steel, his deep-set eyes had flashed fiercely at her, ready to defend his family. The tight line of his mouth had said he’d do what he had to do to protect his family and that he wouldn’t forget the past.
    Nor could she. Jillian sucked in air and straightened her shoulders; she fought for control, for the peace she’d had before he’d torn into her home. She hadn’t expected to see Adam, hadn’t expected the forceful impact of him—like a Scottish laird swooping down from his castle to waylay any intruders into his realm. His scents curled disturbinglyaround her—the angry male fresh from the rain and her past. Even the leaves of her large philodendron seemed to quiver, stroked by his anger.
    She smoothed the leaves, running cool beneath her fingertips, a contrast to her seething emotions. Her brother died in prison because of Adam Tallchief’s testimony; her parents had died of heartbreak. She’d come for revenge, to somehow take as Adam had taken.
    Jillian’s racing heart, the emotions she fought to keep under control, settled slightly. The reality was that she couldn’t bear to harm the Tallchiefs. She’d fallen in love with the family who had struggled to stay together. Left orphaned when the eldest was only eighteen, the five Tallchief children had used their Scottish ancestor’s journals to “add glue to the mix.” They’d hunted for Una’s lost dowry and reclaimed each piece with its legend. After only two full months, Jillian loved the family that had grown with each marriage. “Now how could I