Free Tallchief: The Hunter by Cait London

have a second thought about that kiss. Not one.”
    He nodded solemnly, watching her rummage for words. His hand found a place near hers on the ewe. “It’s good wool. Elspeth uses it in her work. The shearing ought to yield enough to keep her busy for a while.”
    She realized that Adam had moved slightly, sheltering her from the wind. “I know. It’s beautiful to spin and to weave. The sheep are more of a tribute to her Scots ancestor, Una. In the summer they graze on Tallchief Mountain where heather has been planted to keep them company. When I work with Elspeth, spinning the wool, I can almost feel the peace of other women, doing the same, wrapping around me. The lanolin in the wool makes your fingers smooth, just as life should be. And to spin or weave a good solid product that will endure is wonderful. It’s a lovely thing to know you can create a gift for someone you love, to keep them warm and comfortable. It’s taken me a long time to find peace, Adam, and you’re not destroying it.”
    “You’re artistic, Jillian. I saw your work, but more than that. At Elspeth’s you stroked the weave of her place mats, enjoying the texture and color. You nuzzled the children’s hair, taking in their scents. You like candlelight and rich shadows, and you see beauty in a plain white coffee cup. Why did you let your parents’ cold hearts force you into business?”
    She didn’t answer, lifting her face to the sun and closing her eyes. I was the “good daughter.” I wanted to be loved. A girl who wants just a shred of love will do what she can to capture it. In another time, she’d tried so hard to please everyone and in the end, lost herself and her dreams. But they hadn’t loved her any more for it—it was always Tom, the brother who would carry on the Green name.
    She was raised to do just what she did—to understand business and to be the perfect wife of a man with political opportunities. Eventually, she admitted her marriage was a failure and that business wasn’t the call of her heart. She’d gotten the degree and, after her marriage, had plodded to work every day, a stressed executive dressed in a suit, never fully leaving work at the office. Her life ran gray then, streaked with fear of the night and her marital bed. But she wouldn’t give Adam the satisfaction of knowing that and the emptiness failure could bring.
    “I’ll be helping with the shearing and herding them out of the valley and up into the meadows on Tallchief Mountain. I’ll enjoy camping there with them for a while. I love watching the lambs. Here, you’re cold—”
    With that, he took off his coat and slid it over her shoulders. “Put your arms in, Jillian. The better fit will keep the cold from seeping in.”
    Jillian shook her head, remembering when Adam had placed his high school athletic jacket over her shoulders in the same way. She didn’t want the slightest comfort from him, a man who as a boy had torn her life apart. She would keep her composure. What he did, he could undo. The coat carried scents of sea salt and storms that could sweep her away. “Take it off.”
    He crossed his arms, the faded red sweatshirt he wore frayed at the collar and cuffs. “Your feet are freezing, and yet you’re determined to hold your ground. Why?”
    The coat smelled of man, wood smoke, animal and Adam. When she started to remove it, just as she wanted to remove him from her life, Adam picked her up. Hercanvas shoes, sunken in the mud, stayed there. Before she could protest being carried by Adam, he placed her on top of the sturdy fence post. “Okay, spit it out. You have something to say, don’t you?”
    Adam was very strong, strong enough to control her easily. Another man had, forcing her. Yet Adam held her as he would a child, firmly, gently, yet not too close, his hands light upon her. The fear that had immediately swamped and paralyzed her slithered slowly away. “I don’t like being handled.”
    “I didn’t mishandle you. My