Tallchief for Keeps Read Online Free Page A

area near the fire. She stooped to toss the bloody towel into the fire, wishing Alek were as easy to remove from her life. The towel ignited, and so did her temper. “Your baby. Your choice…Pushing earrings through your ear—”
    “Earring. One ear. Singular.”
    “Oh, yes. You’re a journalist, aren’t you? Five years ago, you were off for a little romantic holiday before you returned to the wars. What was that you said when you were done and ready to be on your way—‘As good as I’ve had. Thanks for the good time’? I burned that wad of money you tossed at me, Alek. Thanks, but no thanks.”
    Because helooked so shocked, she saw no reason to spare him. She doubted that anyone had cut Alek down to size, but he’d forced her into a corner. “I’ve never told anyone, Alek. You want the clinical details? Fine. I’ll send you the doctor’s name and the hospital in London. I was studying with a talented weaver, a distant relative, when—”
    She dashed away the tears flowing down her cheeks and folded her arms protectively across her body. “Damn you, Alek.”
    She closed her eyes, waves of pain crashing over her again. Elspeth felt herself sink to her knees, heard her trembling whisper above the cold mountain wind. “He was only three months into term, Alek. According to the doctor, it was for the best…. For the best…” she said, repeating the phrase that had echoed through her heart for years.
    She hated the sobs tearing out of her, and pressed the tartan to her face to muffle them. She was naked now, stripped of control by Alek Petrovna, and she hated him for that.

Two
    E lspeth’s cries tore intoAlek; he hadn’t prepared for this …twist, he decided was the right word. A story twist that didn’t make sense for him. He’d planned a methodical revenge, not the softening within him.
    Well, hell, Alek thought, suddenly drained of all his revenge, his motivation for bringing Elspeth to her knees. He’d planned his revenge, devising a plot that would tether Elspeth to him. He’d intended to take his revenge methodically, slowly. He’d hated her for hiding his child, for leaving him with an ache too deep to bear.
    There was no child to hold in his arms. …
    The ache grew within him, even as his hatred for Elspeth eased. The miscarriage had torn her apart, her sobs proof of her mourning. Elspeth had wanted that child as desperately ashe—Alek read that knowledge in the aching curl of Elspeth’s body, her fingers gripping her tartan length. She’d always mourn the baby—
    Alek carefully placed the china cup upon its saucer when he wanted to smash it. He rose slowly, a healed broken bone or two aching now. He stood very still, his fists clenched at his sides, bracing himself against losing a child he’d never known.
    Elspeth lay curled upon the woven blankets. The sobs came raw, straight from her soul.
    He swallowed, moistening a throat clogged with emotion.
    Alek closed his eyes, listened to the wind howl beyond the canvas and saw Elspeth as she was back then—dancing passionately around the Scottish bonfire. He saw her lie upon the ancient rock, her face flushed with desire, her lips swollen from his kisses. Half-drunk on native brew and whiskey, he’d thought of her as a moonlit goddess with slender curves and dark, mysterious places. He’d teased her, enchanted with the chase…loved her—took her virgin body for hisown. She’d tasted of life, a drink he’d needed to remember his attachment to the human race.
    He’d wanted that child desperately, because he wanted his life to go on, a damn Petrovna trait. Then, too, the selfish gene within him needed more, a healing only the gift of a child could offer.
    “Elspeth…” He crouched by her side and placed his hand on that sleek hair, lightly, tentatively, afraid that she would push him away. “Elspeth, don’t cry.”
    She dashed his hand away.
    He hated the sound of crying. He’d heard enough for a lifetime. He wiped his hand across