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11

THE SOUND OF VOICES RAISED in conversation drifting in from the kitchen woke Raven that morning. Hearing the sounds so indicative of family life drew her off the trundle and to the kitchen doorway, where she lingered.

There, seated with his back to the wall, and looking rather gray-faced, was Eben. Seated on either side of him in a tight semi-circle, were the smaller Galloway children, some round- eyed at the presence of this ragged looking stranger, others plying him with questions about his adventures in the West.

He replied slowly, haltingly. Noticing this, Elizabeth shooed the children from the room. “Go on, it’s time to do your chores, all of you! Jimmy, you help Ella gather the eggs. And keep that rooster away, now, mind!” She shook her head as they trooped out. “The man’s just out of his sick bed, and against my advice, at that.”

Raven stood for a moment longer, unnoticed in the kitchen doorway, watching him. Weariness borne of illness etched lines round the outer corners of his blue eyes. His injured arm, still swathed in bandages, was supported by a sling tied around his neck. One sleeve of his hunting shirt hung empty. He must have felt her eyes on him, for his gaze slowly rose until it met with hers. In the midst of lifting his coffee cup to his lips, he paused, that cool stare warming as he took in her soft dishevelment.

Guessing where his thoughts had wandered, Raven felt a thrill run though her. A mere look from this man had the power to make her tremble, though it remained a mystery as to why that was. The chair beside him was empty now. He sat the cup down and reached out to her.

Raven hesitated, suddenly unsure. The Galloways thought they were married, but it was all a lie. In the throes of delirium, it was another woman he cried out for, not her. And he fully intended to see her wed to someone else when they arrived in Pittsburgh.

So how could he look at her that way? With such heat and longing? Such ownership? Was it his heart that told the lie, or his chill blue eyes?

Eben was blissfully unaware of her inner turmoil. Her small hand crept slowly into his, stealthily, just as she had crept into his life—without him ever knowing what was happening.

Leaning in, he kissed her cheek. “Good morning, wife.”

Her cheek warmed a becoming shade of pink. “Why are you out of bed?”

He offered her his best grin, though he knew it was a trifle weak. “The quickest way to a man’s heart is to set aside all nagging.”

She wanted to retaliate, but his recent brush with immortality seemed to keep her from it. She seemed to care a little for his welfare, for whether he lived or died—or was that just wishful thinking?

At the far end of the table, Elizabeth threw him a dark look. “Young man, I thought we talked about that last night.

Wedding vows are serious business, and not to be taken lightly. You have sworn to cherish this young woman—”

“Elizabeth!” James warned.

The matron shot a pointed look at her husband. “Surely you do not take his side in this!”

“Elizabeth!” He got up and took her by the elbow, guiding her away from the table, into the other room, but he could not seem to silence her.

“James,” Eben heard her say. “She isn’t much older than Rebecca—a fact your friend does not seem to take into consideration!”

“Elizabeth, hush. This is none of our affair.” “But they obviously need guidance!”

“My love, what they need is privacy. Something they are not likely to get here.” She would have interrupted but he silenced her. “I swear to you that Eben is a fair man, who would never harm that girl. A bit rough around the edges, he

may be, but he is not unkindly, or unjust. Now, come with me. We’ll check on the children.”

The door opened and closed, and Eben finally had the moment of privacy with Raven James had mentioned. “You’ve won her over, that much is certain.”

“Elizabeth and James have been very kind, and I am grateful. If not for her, you would not be sitting here right now.”

Eben digested the information, watching her all the while. “Are you sorry that I am?”

“No, of course not!” she said, then hastened to correct. “How would I get to Pittsburgh without you? And how would I find this paragon of maleness you seek to bind me to?”

“I believe the word is “cleave. You are supposed to cleave to your husband.”

“Cleavage, bondage,” she said. “It’s all the same from where I sit.”

Eben sipped his coffee and watched his “wife” from under lowered lids. She’d never looked lovelier than she did at that moment. Her hair was slightly mussed from sleep and fell in gentle midnight disarray down her back to her trim waist. It begged to be stroked, and Eben could not resist the urge to tuck a wayward strand behind her shell-like ear.

Her gaze met his, her soft brown eyes appealing to him not to carry the game too far. But Eben was enjoying it, and was loath to give it up too soon. Leaning back in his chair, he watched her for a while. “Perhaps you’d like to tell me how we got to Old Chillicothe? It’s a considerable distance for you to have dragged an unconscious man singlehandedly.”

Raven shrugged. “Just as you suspected, we had visitors. But it was not a problem. I happen to deal well with Indian peoples.”

“Indeed,” he said, reaching up to tug on his long locks. “I seem to recall someone saying how fine my scalp would look, hanging from their lodge pole. One of your bosom friends, no doubt.”

“Say what you will,” she said with an easy air. “I see you have it, still.” She took a piece of cornpone from the platter in the center of the table, and got up. “Since you are feeling more yourself, I think I’ll take a walk.”

As she got up, he caught her hand and kissed it. “Don’t venture far.”

She dimpled at him. “Go back to bed, m’sieur. You need your rest.”

As she left the room, James came back in. “Feeling rather poorly, still?” he questioned.

“Like bloody hell,” Eben said. “But, believe me, it’s a big improvement.”

“I guess you caught most of the conversation, so you know of Elizabeth’s concern?”

Eben put his cup down, helping himself to a little more coffee. “I caught her drift, and she’s nothing to worry about. Raven’s safe with me. I would not hurt a woman—ever.”

“No, of course not.” He studied a moment, and Eben knew he searched carefully for his words. “Hey, do you remember that time in Trenton, when that fella took exception to the way you were lookin’ at him? And he invited you outside? Where six of the biggest, meanest, ugliest miscreants waited?”

Eben rubbed the scar under his chin. It had been a wicked cut, full of tiny shards of broken glass. He’d taken a few pieces from it in the months that followed, and it had healed unevenly. “Aye, I remember. Every time I cut myself shaving.”

“But you whupped ‘em all, and then you set out beaten and bloody to seduce the poor jackass’s woman right from under him.” James chuckled to himself, then sobered.

Eben frowned. That part of it was fuzzy. He must have been hellish drunk to do such a thing. “Those were good times, James, but all of that’s over and done with. I’ve got me a plan, and I’ve stopped carousin’. Why, I haven’t gouged an eye, or broken a nose in almost four years.”

“And that’s a damn good thing, Eben. But the basics are still there, do you hear what I’m sayin’? You’re one of toughest men I know, and the very one I’d want at my back in a pitched battle, but this time, you may just be a little out of your league.”

Eben frowned as that sank in. “Say again? You think the girl’s too good for me? That I’m not fit to care for her?”

“I’m saying that she’s young, Eben. Very young. And therefore, tender. Dealing with her might require some amount of delicacy. And surely even you must admit that delicacy is one thing you may not have?”

“I confess that I’m not liking this conversation,” Eben admitted.

James put up a hand to stay any bad feelings. “It’s not my intent to insult you. Only to offer perspective. My own Elizabeth was far out of my league, and I’ve striven every day of our married life to be a worthy husband to her. I like to think I’ve succeeded, but it hasn’t always been easy. As far as Raven goes, she’s unique. She’s made quite an impression since she’s been here, and won more than a few hearts. She even impressed Tecumseh.”

Eben’s head shot up. “Come again?” It was a name he hadn’t expected to hear.

“Oh, aye. He brought you in. It was a sight I won’t soon forget—you barely in the saddle, and Raven holding tight to your waist—and a contingent of half a dozen braves accompanying you. The chieftain called her ‘match-squa-thi neeshematha’.”

“Good God,” Eben said, the mental picture of Raven holding off the Shawnee war chief and his entire contingent with that untamed tongue of hers made him shudder. “I’m suddenly feeling a little ill.”

Raven had come back into the house in time to hear this last bit of the conversation. She walked to where he sat and laid the back of her hand against his cheek. “You do feel warm. It’s

all of this activity. You’ve pushed yourself too far, you stubborn oaf. Let’s get you back to bed.”

Raven helped him up and he came willingly. Elizabeth called to James from the yard. The door opened and closed and Raven and Eben were once again alone. “Why didn’t you tell me that it was Tecumseh who helped you?”

“What difference does it make?” she challenged. “We are here, and you are better. As I see it, that’s all that really matters.”

Eben searched her face for a moment, but found no trace of deception there. “Tecumseh is a powerful man. Any encounter with him, or his allies shouldn’t be taken lightly.”

“We were never in any real danger,” she insisted, and bit her lip. “You worry far too much.”

“It seems I have good reason.” When she said nothing, he grumbled quietly to himself. “It makes me wonder what else there is that you’re not telling me.” His imagination ran rampant, and his head began to ache. “Wench, you befuddle me. I confess, I don’t know what to do with you. You run headlong into trouble, and insist it’s nothing. Extracting you from it seems to cost me dearly.”

“There is trouble of your own making on the horizon, if you do not get some rest!” she insisted.

She had a point. He had fairly dragged himself off the bed earlier, and even bolstered by several cups of strong black coffee, his strength had bled away quickly. “All right,” he finally conceded, changing tactics since he clearly wasn’t winning this contest of wills. “I am willing to concede the fact that I am feeling not only shitty, but strangely reluctant to be left alone in my boredom. I’ll agree to rest if you will lie here with me. It seems a reasonable compromise.”

“Reasonable?” Raven said, struggling to keep her voice low and her anger in check. “There is nothing reasonable about it. I’m not going to lie with you!”

He sat down on the edge of the rough bed, his knees apart. “’Tis a wife’s job to provide her husband a little comfort now

and again.” The grinning devil patted the straw tick between his thighs. “Be kind to me sweetheart. I’m ill.”

“Insane, is what you are! A cunning, manipulative bastard.” He braced a hand on the mattress and made to rise.

“Perhaps I’ll walk outside. A fresh, bracing bit of late summer air is just what I need to put some starch back in these bones.”

“You will take unfair advantage of my good and generous nature,” she complained aloud.

“I swear, I will restrain myself,” he swore. “Just spoon with me, Raven. I need the reassurance of your warmth. Death’s door is a cold and unkind place.”

“You are full of deer droppings, or better yet, horse shit.”

This time, he rose halfway, before Raven relented. “All right! But just for a moment or two.”

“Hardly enough time to adjust to your warmth and assume a natural contour, body to body. I’m very tense. A moment just won’t do.”

“Ten minutes, then. And not a second longer.”

“Ten minutes, and not a second less.” He lay full length on the bed, and then turned his back to her. “Curl yourself around me, little cat. Remember, I am incapacitated.”

Raven’s blush was instantaneous and the heat it triggered intense. To submit to his embrace was one thing. To initiate intimacy was quite another. She was not happy, but she had agreed. She sat beside him, then lay back on the bed, stiffly, keenly aware of his nearness, the heat from his flesh warming her left side.

“Closer, lass, but be gentle with me.”

“You’re the most exasperating man I have ever met.” “My thanks, sweetheart,” he said, completely ignoring her

complaint. “I make an effort. Is it cold in here, or is the fever returning? I feel a chill. Put your arm around me, will you? Like a good little wife.”

Raven clenched her teeth and moved closer, reluctantly draping her arm over his waist. He caught her hand with his uninjured one, bringing her fingers to his lips, then holding it securely to the center of his chest. His heart beat heavily under her fingertips. Gradually, by slow degrees, some of her anger fled, and bathed in his vital warmth she grew drowsy. Long before the allotted time was up, she had drifted off to sleep.

When she awoke, the light outside had taken on the gold of afternoon. She was lying on a mattress, her cheek pillowed on something pliable but hard, and she had the eerie feeling that she was being watched. She opened her eyes, slowly, reluctantly, to find Eben’s gaze on her, intense and searching, and realized that in sleep they had changed positions. He lay flat on his back, and she was curled closely against him, her head pillowed on the curve of his shoulder, her knee across his thighs, precariously close to his groin.

“I find this arrangement very much to my liking,” he said.

The arm free of the sling encircled her, keeping her tight against him.

For a moment she didn’t move. Languid warmth had stolen through her while she was drowsing, and she was surprised to find that there was so much comfort to be had in his arms. She could have stayed there forever, except that it was precisely what he wanted. “I must get up. This was not at all what I intended.”

“Raven, wait. Don’t go yet.”

“Wait?” she said. “And what? Lie with you? To what end, Eben? What comes after?”

“Why must there always be a plan? Why can’t we just once allow this thing between us to take its natural course?”

She did push up now, sitting beside him, though he didn’t let her go completely. His arm curved easily around her, his broad hand rested comfortably, possessively on her hip. “Don’t you dare turn this around on me now,” she said furiously. “You were the one with the plan, not I. I did not ask for you to take my father’s gold. Nor did I need a protector. I certainly did not

want a husband selected for me—real, or otherwise! This entire situation was your idea. Your plan!”

“Your future, your safety,” Eben insisted. “Don’t make it sound as if I am acting out of self-interest. I am but trying to do what’s best for you.”

Her lips curled back from her small white teeth. At that moment she felt feral and wild, and she wanted to hurt him as much as he was hurting her by holding her close with one hand, and pushing her away with the other—into the arms of another man—a man she did not want. “Best for me. You unprincipled hound. Is it best for me to lie with you and let you do as you will with me when your intentions are wholly dishonorable? Is it best for me to ply you with affection that means nothing? You do not want me—not really—so leave me alone!”

He brought his hand up to stroke her cheek. “That’s where you’re wrong, sweetheart. I do want you. More than you can imagine. I ache with wanting you beside me, under me.”

Raven ached for him, too, though she would have died before admitting it to him. That kind of confession would come back to haunt her, that much was certain. She wanted him as a woman wanted a man. Just thinking about it made the place between her legs feel swollen and heavy. He would touch her there, with his hands, and his male body, if she allowed it—and then what? Her desires governed her body, but anger ruled her mind. She leaned in close and lowered her voice seductively. He strained upward, intending to steal a kiss, but she was always a fraction of an inch from surrendering what he wanted. “And if I say yes?”

“As my lover, you’ll be well-compensated. And I will move heaven and earth to see that you don’t regret coming to my bed.”

Well-compensated, not unlike a prostitute would be compensated for her time and trouble. His words struck a discordant note inside Raven, spoiling the moment. She jerked back and away, out of his one-armed embrace, then, when he grabbed for her again, she gave him a shove. Caught off guard,

he fell back, his head connecting forcefully with the headboard. Then, she jumped up and ran from the house.

Elizabeth was in the dooryard, hanging dripping linens on a rough rope line, strung between two trees. Raven bent and took the other corner of the sheet, stretching it out, pinning it tight. The older woman gave her a look of understanding, patted her shoulder, but withheld comment, for which Raven was grateful.

NOTHING COULD KEEP EBEN IN bed beyond the morning of the third day. His fever hadn’t returned, and he was rapidly regaining his strength. With his recovery came the onset of a restlessness that Raven was beginning to understand was ingrained into his personality. He was short-tempered with everyone, even the mild-mannered Elizabeth, who argued to no avail that he was far from recovered from his recent ordeal, and risking relapse by pushing himself to the limits of his physical capabilities so soon.

After their last encounter, Raven kept a careful distance between them. When he was around, she made certain that she had chores that occupied her in other parts of the house. She even took to helping Rebecca, though neither of them had any liking for the other.

She spread clean linens over the children’s beds and swept the floors with a straw broom while Rebecca chatted about insignificant things. More often than not, Raven listened with half an ear, barely hearing what the girl said. Her mind was far away, her thoughts full of Eben and their difficult relationship. Her initial hatred of him was evolving, and that terrified her.

She could not look at him now without noticing how handsome he was, or the way his eyes kindled when he looked at her. She was attracted to him—a hard thing for her to admit, even to herself.

From the first, she’d known that letting him into her world, her life, would bring disaster. Yet, what was she to do? She couldn’t control her emotions, any more than she could stop the rain from falling, or ask the trees to stop bowing before the wind. Some things went against nature—like choosing whom one fell in love with. She could only pray it did not happen,

that it remained attraction, and nothing else. She reminded herself a hundred times a day that he was an arrogant beast of a man, pigheaded, and sometimes rude. The same man who’d bargained her safekeeping against a cache of gold. It did not solve the problem, and it seemed she was headed for heartache, whether she liked it or not.

That same day, Eben accompanied James to survey the new parcel of land he was purchasing. His stamina was returning, and very soon, he would be bidding his friend farewell. It would be a relief to go, to put an end this charade. Eben didn’t hold with blatant dishonestly, especially with someone as good, and as forthcoming as James. It didn’t feel right.

Throughout his life, he’d known men who were liars by choice, but he was a liar by necessity.

Had he been in his right mind at the time of their arrival, there would have been no need for falsehood. Now, he and Raven were both caught in a trap of his fevered mind’s making, and there was no way to escape unscathed. To tell the truth sharing close quarters with Raven would unjustly ruin her reputation—something he couldn’t bring himself to do in order to salve his own smarting conscience.

James’s fields were lush, the trees hanging full of nearly ripe fruit. Everything had a bountiful air, from the new calves in the fields, to the Galloway children spilling from the neat log house. Very much to his surprise, Eben found he was envious.

“It’s a good life,” James was saying. “But soon you’ll see.

You’ll see.”

“Aye. I guess so.”

“Have you got your eye on some land, Eben? A man must have land to prosper, land to pass on to his children. And, to his grandchildren.”

“That’s a long way off for me, I’m afraid,” Eben replied.

He would never see sons and daughters, let alone grandchildren. But that was likely a good thing. Babies, and growing children were always crying, or fighting, or sick with a snotty nose, and it added up to a hell of a distraction for a

man focused on building an empire. James was right about one thing, though. He needed to start thinking about getting some land. His capital was not as extensive as he would have liked, and the gold poor dead Henry had given him was lost. He’d need to plan carefully in order to make a start.

He stood with James, looking out over the sloping ground spread out at their feet. It was all James’s—as far as the eye could see. The envy dug a little deeper. The pang he felt seemed a bit sharper. Aye. It was something to think about. The rest of it, he could live without.

LATER THAT EVENING, EBEN ASKED Raven to walk

out with him. He was bored with the confines of the house, feeling hemmed in, and eager to dispel this feeling of restlessness. He’d hardly seen her at all this past day, and he suspected she might be purposely avoiding him. She was angry with him for wanting more than she was willing to give, yet he was a red-blooded man, not some weak-livered dandy, and he was not sure what she expected. Maybe, with some privacy, they could put this awkwardness between them to rest, and get back to some sort of normalcy. Or, at least that was his hope.

The supper dishes were done and James was reading a newspaper passed down neighbor to neighbor. Printed in Philadelphia, it was months old, but the news it brought to his doorstep would provide fodder for conversation until another arrived. Elizabeth sat sewing, repairing a rent in one of her husband’s shirts. “Why don’t you go, child. It’s a soft evening, and the stars are out, and maybe a little privacy will improve your husband’s surly disposition.”

“Elizabeth!” James said.

Raven giggled. “I would not count on that.”

Eben had been leaning against the doorway, but moved to where she sat and, reaching down, took her hand. “Come.”

Raven bit her lip. She could go with him and risk a repetition of their last encounter, or refuse and make a fool of herself. As she hesitated, wondering how she would explain their lies, his hand tightened slightly over hers. She frowned

up at him, but he only jerked his head to indicate the exit. “Oh, all right! But I had better not catch a chill!”

“I’ll keep you warm,” he promised, leading her out. Then, when the door had closed at the couple’s back,

Elizabeth set aside her mending and looked at her husband. “There’s something not quite right about those two. When I spoke to him the other day, and assured him that Raven loves him, he seemed astonished. Why on earth would he marry a girl who didn’t love him?”

James found a long-stemmed clay pipe and crumbled a little tobacco leaf into its bowl, lighting it with a sliver of kindling and the low blaze on the hearth. “Folks marry for a lot of reasons. Not all are as fortunate as you and I. Eben always was immune to such things. Single-minded, if you will, and his focus is probably elsewhere.”

“Well, in any case, it isn’t him I’m worried about. It’s that sweet child he married—if indeed he married her at all!”

“Now, Elizabeth!”

“Oh, don’t concern yourself. I won’t say anything more, but mark my words! If he hurts that girl, he’ll regret it the rest of his days!”