Seven
Lacey sat on a board, propped between the sawhorses, running her pencil down the checklist in her hand. The project was on schedule; the church board was pleased with MacCandliss Remodeling, which would lead to good referrals and more work. She should have been happy.
Her mind wasn’t on work, but on what had happened after the wedding shower. Though LaBelle’s ring was safely stored away, Birk had given her a small perfect agate, with a tiny bit of moss trapped inside the delicate pink. A gift from Tallchief to Una, a thin wedding band had been heated, woven to form a tether to the leather thong. Lacey pressed her hand over her chest, finding the stone.
The ceremony on the mountain had been for the Tallchiefs, and the wedding shower for pride and custom. But when Birk had lifted their joined hands to the stormy sky, and called to the wind, “Aye!” he’d given a pledge much deeper. In the savagery of the winter storm circling Tallchief Mountain, her hand locked to his, Lacey had given him much more than she’d intended.
“Aye!” she’d shouted to the wind, blending her promise with his, and she’d given him what he’d wanted. He’d claimed her then, in a kiss lacking patience and skill, but in a raw primitive taking that told her she belonged to him, and maybe she always had.
That was the ceremony, that moment locking them in the cold wind and the warmth rising between them, not the one on the mountain, or anything that had passed before. There was a new look to Birk when he had softened the kiss and looked down at her, the wind whipping at his hair. He had taken her face in his hands and studied her as if he saw straight past her skin, her bones and into her heart. “You’re mine now, Lacey the lovely,” he’d murmured.
Not to be left behind, she’d pushed her hands through his hair and returned, “And you are mine, Birk the rogue.”
But they weren’t playing at Black Knights rescuing maidens from dragons, and they weren’t children.
Now, in the unfinished church remodeling, Sam Nachman, a subcontractor’s electrician, climbed a ladder beside her sawhorses and began connecting wires to a main circuit. Placing her work boots on a wooden spool circled by wiring, Lacey rubbed her glove over her face and jerked off her hard hat. On a Monday morning, pasting a smile on her face while answering congratulations, she could have killed Birk Tallchief. She’d spent Sunday with Fiona and the other Tallchiefs, to heal her raw nerves and tangled emotions. The only thing she could cling to was that she was certain Birk had never unleashed the real storms in him to another woman. She caught that knowledge to her, because she’d always had a piece of Birk that was true, elemental and belonged to no one else. That moment meant more to him than any of the others—it was Birk’s ceremony, out in the wild elements so much a part of his life. Oh, no, he couldn’t have chosen a church like Duncan or Calum had, or a ceremony in the middle of Amen Flats like Elspeth had, marrying Alek. There he’d stood, dressed in the Tallchief plaid, with just the right angle of arrogance to his head, his eyes smoking at her, challenging her. There wasn’t an ounce of softness, of romance in him, as he’d tossed his challenge to her.
She’d grabbed him selfishly, for herself, for what she needed, a mate to that same fierce storm within herself. Her high emotions had shocked her then, but not Birk, because he’d laughed, a carefree laugh, tossed to the winds, as if he had what he wanted and it filled him with delight.
She’d returned late, after a Sunday with her new family, revving up her motorcycle, and found Birk working on the old rocker, cherishing it with each stroke of fine steel wool. “Enjoy yourself, darling?” he had asked, the deep tone raising her hackles.
“Immensely. Your family loves me, though I can’t say they feel the same about you. Fiona travels light. I took her to the airport on my motorcycle.”
Birk had stood, and crossed his arms over his bare chest. He was wearing worn jeans and work socks, and looked as approachable as a grumpy bear just coming out of hibernation. “There are rules to this game, darling, and one of them is that you don’t go roaring off on your motorcycle before dawn. There is ice on the roads now, and snow. You’ll drive your truck from now on.”
As her crew took their morning coffee break, Lacey poured the hot chocolate Birk had prepared into her cup. She brushed back the ringlet that had come loose from her braid. Birk was in a snit and she was feeling—uncertain.
“Can’t you keep up?” she’d asked mildly, testing him.
“I had things to do,” he’d answered, pushing the rocking chair to her with his foot.
The old chair, brought from Scotland by Una’s indentured family, gleamed in rich tones, stripped of the past and rubbed with oil. “It’s lovely,” she’d whispered, smoothing the old wood that had held Una with her babies upon her lap.
Lacey scowled at the shiny insulation stapled to the church walls and waiting for drywall to cover it. She tapped her boot. Birk wasn’t playing by the rules of a temporary situation. After looking so brooding, he’d tipped her face up for a kiss, a light tempting brush of his lips that left her wanting more. “While you girls were giggling and hashing over good times, my brothers and I finished winterizing the house and wrapped the pipes against freezing. The work needed to be done quickly and they needed a place to hide when you girls started crying.”
Shifting on her board, Lacey shook her head. Birk had sought the leather thong and followed it to the agate beneath her sweater. Then he’d drawn her slowly to him with the thong. “You’re a witch, Lacey Tallchief. And I won’t make it easy for you.”
Lacey slammed the front door and Birk paused, holding his breath. Then he braced up another board and continued framing in the room. At eleven o’clock in the evening, she’d had time to secure the church remodeling for the night, drop by Maddy’s for a beer, and stop at Elspeth’s.
He’d known her movements exactly, tracking her through town, because if she hadn’t returned soon, he would drag her back and—Elspeth had called Birk later, telling him that he should be nice to Lacey... that Lacey was fighting crying and wouldn’t say what bothered her.
Oh, he intended to bother her until she knew just where she should be and who she needed.
Lacey’s hard hat hit the floor and her boots sounded against the floor, marching toward him.
She’d hurt him, Birk realized. She’d brutalized his sensitivity as a new groom. He’d planned to keep Lacey for himself, not that he begrudged Fiona’s visit, but a telephone call to him, a soft word to tide him over, would have helped.
At his back, Lacey’s voice was ominously quiet. “What are you doing?”
“You’ve remodeled houses, darling. I’m framing in our bedroom.”
“No walls, Birk.”
He hated the slight tremor of her voice, ached for her, but continued hammering, framing in the enclosure. “Your mother is coming in two days. I’ll need privacy.”
And a lock, he thought, remembering Jo’s hounding of him and other men. He turned slowly, afraid of what he would see on Lacey’s face. Desperation, fear, pain, tore across Lacey’s pale face, mirrored in her dark blue eyes, terrifying him. “It won’t be so bad, Lacey. It can be removed when she’s gone.”
Or when I’m removed. The thought ripped through him, freezing him.
“I understand,” she whispered too softly. “Yes, privacy. You would need that, a man with two women. I’m used to you, but—”
She said it as though he were an old rug she crossed many times a day. He regretted pushing her farther and put down his hammer. He unzipped her jacket, stripped it from her and knelt to unlace her boots, propping one on his knee. Lacey braced her hand on his shoulder, just as she had when she was years younger. “Correction... we need privacy. It’s customary for brides and grooms to sleep together.”
While Lacey was chewing on that, Birk eased away her jeans and stood to pull her sweater over her head. She understood this part of their relationship worn comfortable by years, yet he wanted more. “If you help, we can add to the outside windows, to make the room seem more open. We’ll leave doors off the closet, but a few shelves and a place to hang our clothes wouldn’t hurt.”
She looked so small and vulnerable, standing there in her thermal underwear. She glanced at the bathtub. “You’re right.” The words were reluctant, drawn from her as she balanced her fears against practical living.
Birk stroked her cheek, felt the deadly chill move beneath it. “Hey, we’re carpenters, aren’t we? We can work together, maybe have some of our crews come to help. Walls are nothing but board and plaster that can be removed, Lacey.”
“They’re damn hard to fight though if you’re locked in,” Lacey murmured unevenly, giving him a small insight into her past.
Her fear of the past echoed on the old walls, cutting into Birk. He wanted to strangle Jo and the man who wasn’t Lacey’s father. “You don’t have to do this, let your mother come here. I could—”
She slashed away his hand. “You’re like that, aren’t you? Trying to fix my life? Maybe I want to do it myself.” She walked to a wall near the bed, picked up a marking chalk and sketched out a line of windows. She sounded the wall, marking the supporting studs and picked up Birk’s small power saw, revving it up as she cut a hole in the wall and winter rushed into the old bordello.
“A little unplanned, but serving the purpose.” Birk pulled the plug on the power saw she was holding. He slid safety glasses on her head. “Let’s do this like the professionals we are, darling.”
“Right.” Lacey plugged in the power saw, revved it, and began ripping away at the wall as if she could tear it apart with her bare hands.
Birk shook his head and methodically followed her lead, replacing the supports, and framing the window. When a blast of winter wind lifted Lacey’s hair, flying around her with sawdust, Birk picked up the telephone and called his foreman. “Buck, I hope you’re in a good mood, because I need a home delivery. Get Mel at the lumberyard to open up, will you? We need three windows, big ones—I know it’s almost midnight, but we’re having a...a family moment.”
He sketched out the specifications and studied his wife, a petite woman with a mass of curls flying in the wind. Dressed in her thermal underwear, and wielding a small power saw, Lacey was fighting her demons.
At one o’clock in the morning, Lacey had stopped only for the mug of soup Birk had pressed into her hands. The windows were in place, keeping the wind outside, and a blanket had been hung over them for privacy. “There,” Lacey said, dusting her hands. “That’s all there is to that.”
“Not quite. Come here and kiss me to celebrate,” Birk said, placing aside the broom he’d been using to sweep up the sawdust. She looked as if she’d collapse at any minute, sawdust caught in her hair and thermal underwear.
“You’re feeling broody, aren’t you? Because I stole your macho spotlight, the big moment when you sweep in and save little helpless me. You’re far too arrogant, Tallchief. It’s my house, and I wanted to—”
“I know...do it by yourself.” Birk stripped off his T-shirt and socks, tossing them into a corner. Someday, Lacey might let him into her locked corners. “I deserve a medal,” he muttered, tearing off the plastic sheet that had been protecting the bed.
“That’s not my bed,” Lacey stated, blinking at the big old-fashioned four-poster that Birk had widened and lengthened to suit him.
“Your bed is upstairs for your mother. By the way, she’ll need a bathroom too—for privacy.” And because he didn’t want Jo walking in on him, or sharing Lacey’s soap. He wrapped his hand around her neck, smoothing the delicate line. “You’re tired, dear heart. You’ve got shadows under your eyes. You’ll probably be so tired tomorrow that you won’t have the energy to invest in those sexy telephone calls to me, will you?”
She grinned up at him, too tired to notice that he’d been unbuttoning her thermal wear. “That was a stroke of genius and payback for how you treated me at the shower. I was improvising. I did much better on the second one, don’t you think? How did you like the rhythmic panting, slower, then picking up, just a bit louder at the end and then... that final sound was a masterpiece, don’t you think? Like the cherry on top of a sundae?”
After the first call, he couldn’t walk, his body hard and aching for her. After the second, he knew how really tempting Lacey could be when she wanted to charm a man. He didn’t want her tempting any other man. He had snapped at his men, told the board chairman of the school to mind his own business, and had almost gone to claim his wife. “The part where you groaned rhythmically, getting louder as you panted must have been difficult to manage with all the workmen around. The background sound of power saws and men yelling was a distraction.”
“You sound miffed, Tallchief.”
“I understand two of your men went home for emergencies and came back smiling.” He tugged off her socks, her thermal underwear, and ran his fingers around the elastic and lace she wore around her hips. The triangular lace covering each breast was smooth beneath his fingertips. “Afraid?”
Before Lacey could move, Birk picked her up and carried her to the tub, foaming with bubbles. With Lacey pounding nails as though she were killing the past, he’d had time to run water into the tub. He gently lowered and dropped her into the water and while she struggled and flopped and prepared to yell, he stripped away his jeans and shorts and eased into the tub behind her. When she began to curse, Birk calmly stripped the lace from her. “Lean back, Lacey and relax.”
“I’ll kill you,” she purred with a luxuriant sigh.
“Mmm. Keep squirming like that, and I’ll let you.”
Lacey held very still as Birk soaped her back and her arms. The tension changed to sighs and she eased back against him, right where he wanted her, safe and with him. “Sleepy?”
“You’re very good, Tallchief. You’ve probably done this a million times before, but tonight I just don’t care. You’ll smell like flowers tomorrow and your men will call you Lavender and Musk.”
“If they do, I’ll give them a kiss.”
She giggled at that and nestled her back against his chest, settling into him. Birk inhaled sharply as she turned to him, placing her arms around his neck and snuggling down upon him. “You’re not so bad,” she whispered drowsily. “Same old, same old Birk.”
“I’ve changed a bit,” he murmured against her lips and ignored Gizmo’s low growl.
When she was thoroughly limp and drowsy, Birk propped up Lacey to her feet and stepped from the tub to dry her. He slid his T-shirt over her head and carried her to the bed. Dennis and the rest of the cats were waiting on the bed, mildly protesting as Birk eased Lacey into it. “Sleep by me, Birk,” she murmured, already drifting off and curled to her side.
He inhaled, skimmed the curves beneath the blankets, and shook his head. Then, because he had no choice, he eased into the bed and curled around Lacey, drawing her back to him. Her bottom nestled into his lap and Birk shook his head grimly, forcing himself to drift into sleep.
Lacey washed her hands over her face, gripped her mother’s heavy suitcase and lifted it from the back of her pickup. Through the window, Birk noted that Jo MacCandliss hadn’t changed, a petite woman with eyes like Lacey’s, and there the resemblance stopped. Years had hardened Jo, though she dressed youthfully and chose her cosmetics carefully. She studied the old bordello, noting the improvements Lacey had made. Dollar signs ran through her hard blue eyes.
Home for lunch, and worried about Lacey, Birk jammed dirty clothes into the washer, threw in soap and softener, and hurried out the door. He passed Jo as she held out her traveling makeup case to him, and reached to take the heavy bag from Lacey. He wrapped his arm around her, glad that hers encircled him. Her body hummed with tension.
Whatever had been said, in the short distance from the bus stop, it had drained Lacey. “I should have sent more money. The bus trip was too hard on her.”
“Hello, Jo,” Birk managed, not bothering to wrap his greeting in warmth. Lacey had that guilty, haunted look he remembered and hated.
“So you married Lacey, did you?” Jo wandered around the airy space, picking at the Tallchiefs’ wooden baby spoons, and grimacing at the clutter of boards and sawdust against the new walls. “You have a construction crew, and Lacey has a few men working for her. I would have thought that you could afford a real house.”
Birk wanted to tell Jo that she could keep her thoughts to herself, but instead he said, “This is Lacey’s home.”
“She always was stubborn, and making things hard.... The animals will have to go,” Jo noted, pulling aside her expensive winter coat as the herd approached her. Gizmo showed his teeth, and plopped himself in front of Lacey.
The dog showed promise, Birk decided, because Lacey had just shuddered. “They never go upstairs, and that’s where you’re staying. I’ll take your bags up now.”
With the ease of a selfish person fending for her needs, Jo opened the refrigerator and prowled through it, taking a can of beer and slapping a sandwich together. She pivoted to Lacey. “You could get a nice dollar out of this place and get something cozier.”
She sidestepped Gizmo, the cats, and sat on the arm of the couch, studying Lacey as she ate, “I said, you could get a nice price from this. You remember that my ownership in the old place got you started, don’t you? Part of MacCandliss Remodeling rightfully belongs to me. And this house, of course.”
Birk remembered how, without Lacey knowing it, the Tallchiefs had spent hours to find a loophole in the deed, maneuvering the title into Lacey’s name.
There was pride in Lacey now, as she braced her body, digging in against her mother and said, “You’ll get your money back. I like this. This is my home. I rebuilt it myself.”
“It’s been something like eleven years since I saw you, and you are just as stubborn. You’ll change your mind. I’m going upstairs to nap now. I hope I have a bed. I’d think you’d want something better for my daughter, Birk.” Jo’s heavily mascaraed eyes drifted lazily over Birk, dressed in his work clothes and boots. “You still have that raw, primitive look that appeals to women. No wonder I was attracted to you.”
Lacey stood very straight, her body locked, her fists tight, as her mother ascended the stairs. Then she turned to Birk, her lips tight. “Do I remind you of her, is that it? Am I her replacement?”
He wanted to show her that he loved her, and it had nothing to do with Jo MacCandliss. “I think that you have had a long day already, and it’s only noon.”
Tears gleamed on Lacey’s lashes, her mouth trembling. “You should know. You had me flattened to the bed this morning, and not a stitch between us. ‘Wake up, Lacey, and play,’ you said, kissing me before I was awake. I wouldn’t have kissed you, given an even start. I wouldn’t have let you—” She blushed and Birk knew that for the moment, Lacey wasn’t unnerved by her mother. “Don’t ever suck my toes again, Birk Tallchief.”
“I wanted you frothing, thinking about me all day, a payback for the steamy telephone calls.” Her focus was exactly where he wanted it, on what was happening between them. He touched the tip of her breast and it hardened as Lacey gasped.
“I intend many, many more. Much worse. You’ll be drooling and mindless when I finish with you,” she threatened.
“”Then you’ll have to take the consequences, won’t you?” Birk asked, and wrapped his arm around her. He smiled grimly to himself, when Lacey patted his bottom and ran out to her pickup, soaring off to work. She’d hammer and yell at her men, and work into the night, and at least he knew she’d be safe.
Birk had intended to wait for his talk with Jo, but now, after seeing Lacey, white and shaking, fighting desperately for her future, he saw no reason to spare her mother.
“Let’s get the rules straight, Jo,” he said a few minutes later, his shoulder braced against an upstairs beam.
He lifted her clothes strewn across the rocker, and watched her sprawl upon the bed, smoking and careless of the wrapper around her. He tossed her clothes to the bed and she kicked them to the floor.
“Is this the part where the territorial Tallchief makes his stand, against little old me? Lacey is tough, Birk. I taught Lacey everything and she owes me.,.”
Birk noted that Jo did not call Lacey her daughter this time. “That’s not the way I see it.”
“She doesn’t know anything about being a woman. Look at her. She’s little more than the tomboy she’s always been. You married her to get her remodeling business and this place. People love restored historical buildings, and you know it. They look at old buildings and see bed and breakfasts, big families and whatever. I see work.”
“Exactly why did you come back, Jo?”
She blew smoke into the air. “By law, Lacey is my daughter. I almost died giving birth to her. I’m down on my luck and she owes me.”
“Uh-huh. You tried to get rid of her too late in your pregnancy.” .
“How this town does talk. But then you Tallchiefs always had everything sewed up, people taking your sides. No wonder I kept the one kid and farmed out the rest with that mother of yours—”
Birk gripped the back of the old rocker. “‘One kid’? You had more?”
She slashed her hand, dismissing other children. “They were accidents, before I got smart—” She stopped when Birk shoved away from the beam. “I’m back and Lacey wants me here,” she said in a too sweet tone.
Farmed out the rest. Birk decided not to push Jo, just yet, but to put Calum on the trail of Lacey’s potential other brothers or sisters. Lacey would want to know. “Then we’ll have to get along, for Lacey’s sake, won’t we?” Birk asked, taking the cigarette from her mouth and dropping it into the opened can of beer. “Lacey doesn’t like smoking in her house. I’m going back to work.”
He picked up the chair and carried it downstairs to the bedroom he shared with his wife. He wished protecting Lacey was as easy.
Two days of her mother caused Lacey’s stomach to knot. She studied the plans for the church’s built-in bookshelves, checking the framing measurements, and consulted the cabinetmaker. She wondered if her headache would last forever, and wondered how she would pay for her mother’s charge accounts in Amen Flats. She wondered how she would make the payroll and dismissed the call from the real estate agent who had heard she’d be selling her home.
She plopped onto the floor, put her head on her knees and wished she hadn’t awakened to a terrified cry—and found it was her own. Lacey rubbed her temples. Her mother was definitely interested in Birk, and Lacey knew that he was putting on an act for her mother, playing the new and well-satisfied husband. Yet something ran between Birk and her mother, and Lacey couldn’t bear to think that she was her mother’s replacement.
Lacey washed her hands over her face and shook her head, the sound of the hammers and saws beating against her. Her mother had been wary, circling her, and finally asked if Birk had told her anything... “Anything about other kids?”
Lacey retraced the old arguments and realized with the horror of an adult, that the possibility was there for other children.
A boot nudged her bottom, and in the next minute, Birk had lifted her in his arms, carrying her out to the scaffolding. “Are we going somewhere?” Lacey asked, and realized how much she’d missed him since breakfast.
“Afraid?” The slant of his head, the dark look in his eyes challenged her. “It’s lunchtime. We’re going to the drive-in for hamburgers. You can sit close to me. Maybe on my lap. I’ll let you feed me, and you can tell me how you’re feeling. You can tell me what kind of roses we should plant in Lil’s old garden.”
“It’s a lovely old garden. We’ll have to build a trellis.” Lacey placed her hand on Birk’s cheek. He was good for her, making her feel alive, and somehow very new.
Birk stopped, still carrying her. Something shifted inside her then, softened, and she lifted her lips to brush his. “What was that for?” he asked unevenly.
“You’re not getting much out of this, Birk. All those needs, unmet and aching? The revved-up harem waiting for your return?”
“I have what I want.” He slid her into the pickup and started the motor. He shot her a look that challenged and teased. “Come sit by me, Lacey the lovely. You’re too far away.” .
“Birk—” She gave way to her needs and threw her arms around his neck.
His mouth fused with hers, just like she wanted, offering her heat and comfort and challenge.
Lacey awoke after midnight, a terrified cry locked in her throat. There were walls all around her, the moonlight sliding through the windows without drapes. Upstairs, her mother’s radio was playing, as it had been when she was a child. She pushed off the blankets, remembering the confinement, and Birk’s arm settled around her. He gathered her closer to him. There was no mistaking his arousal brushing her thigh, or the drowsy purr as he whispered, “You’re here with me, Lacey. Una’s rocking chair is in the corner and the cats and Gizmo are sleeping in the basket on the floor. The door is unlocked and you can walk out at any time.”
She listened to the quick beat of her heart, the fear racing through her. “I’ve got to settle this,” she whispered, shaking as he brought her hand to his mouth.
“You will. You’ve done all the right things so far. You’ve tried to communicate. You’ve tried to understand. You’ll make the right decisions.” Birk spoke with a confidence that she did not have, as if he knew that she would sort out the past, settle it. He drew her over him and grinned, shifting the mood. “I always thought wives wore sexy little numbers to stir up interest, not thermal underwear with socks.”
“I believe you are stirred,” Lacey reminded him, the terror shredding and easing away. She had Birk pinned beneath her and his slow, wicked grin sent her a challenge she could not refuse. “I think I could tame you, just like Una tamed Tallchief, if I wanted. Not that I want to, but if I wanted to put you in your place.”
He toyed with her hair. “I’d stop the sexy phone calls, if I were you.”
“Can’t take it?”
“Mmm.” Birk shifted her upon him and settled his hands on her backside, caressing her hips as the bed creaked pleasantly beneath him. “Trapped in a bordello beneath my wife. Now what would I be thinking about? This?”
Birk rolled over, taking her beneath him. “This is the order of things, Lacey Tallchief. Males dominate submissive females.” His hand skimmed down her curves, lingered on her thigh, caressing the softness. “You don’t qualify for a Black Knight.”
“Submit, Birk the rogue, or I’ll ptay dirty,” she tossed back in the familiar game. She kissed him with what she’d learned from him, the slow sensuous kiss, a nibble on his lower lip, a bite on his chin and a flick of her tongue against his ear. When he was simmering nicely, she sat up, turned on a lamp, and picked up a sexual manual. While Birk lay next to her all rumpled and heated and her nerves quivered with his hot look, Lacey practiced the sounds of an aroused woman about to climax. Then she snapped the book shut, turned off the light and flopped back on her pillow. She grinned at his scowl. “Steaming yet, darling?”
“It’s definitely warmer in here.”