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SWATHED IN AN OLD ROBE that had once belonged to Eben, Raven lay curled up in her new bed. There were hot bricks wrapped in flannel to warm her on the outside, and the toddy Meg had pressed upon her to warm her on the inside, and to make her very drowsy. Meg was very kind, but Raven was still a little wary of Zebulon McAllister. It was very apparent that there was bad blood between he and Eben, and that could bode ill for both of them.

The best thing in her life at this moment was Eben. Since they were sharing a bed and making love, he’d stop crowing about marrying her to someone else, and that was a good sign. All in her world this night was perfect and complete, now that she had someone with which to share it.

She shifted in bed, fingering the soft brown velvet of the robe, and when she opened her eyes again, he was standing in the doorway. “Can I come in?”

Raven smiled at him. “Of course, you can. Is everything all right?”

“I was just about to ask you the same thing,” he admitted.

He stepped into the room and closed the door firmly at his back. “Are you comfortable, sweet? Is there anything you need?”

“I need you, but now you’re here, and everything is perfect.” Raven caught his hand and pulled him close. Finally, he sat down on the edge of the mattress, but avoided more intimate contact. She pressed a kiss upon his knuckles, marveling anew at how large his hands were compared to hers, how powerful. “This bed is big enough for two,” she said in invitation. “Your skin is chilled. Climb in and I will soon make you warm again.”

“The offer is tempting, but I fear we must talk—straighten out some things.”

“Have I done something to displease you?”

He ran his fingers through his hair, then, massaged the back of his neck as if it pained him. “There is nothing you have done, Raven. The blame is mine to bear, the mistake mine to rectify.”

“Mistake?” A chill went through her, chasing away the delicious warmth of a moment ago. “What mistake?”

“Us,” he said with a weary sigh. “We can’t go on as we’ve been the last three weeks. It isn’t fair to you, and though I would not take back a single moment in your arms, we must end it now.”

That chill Raven felt was now transforming, from dread to a blossoming anger. He’d had his fill of her and he was casting her aside. “I see.”

“No, you don’t see. Raven, you barely know me. There is no room in my life for a woman, and certainly not a wife. A wife gives a man children, and a home, and that means responsibilities. I don’t want that, and I never will. I can’t give you what you deserve, lass. Do you understand what I’m trying to say?”

“You have made yourself perfectly clear,” she said. She struggled to keep her voice level, to keep her fury from showing. It would not do to make a dreadful scene in front of an inn full of strangers, and she didn’t want to drag her shame out into the open. “I confess, I’m greatly relieved. I was afraid you were going to ask me to marry you, and I believe you are right. I do deserve better.”

Eben frowned at that. She’d certainly taken his news well. So, why did he feel this frisson of dissatisfaction deep him his belly?

“Does anyone know about us, m’sieur?”

“No one, and there’s no reason why they should. It’s a private matter, and it will stay that way.” He breathed deep. It was over, and he’d done the right thing. He could go now, yet he lingered another moment. And another.

“Would you leave, now, please?” she said. “I’m very tired.” “Aye,” he said. “I will.”

He made to shut the door, and Raven called him back. “Eben?”

“Aye, lass?”

“You really are an ass.”

THE TALL CASE CLOCK AT the end of the hallway was chiming down the hour of eight when Raven woke to a light tap on her door. She’d slept deeply after Eben had left her the night before, but not without dreams. Now, she sat up in bed, squinting into the buttery sunlight streaming through the lace curtains. “Come in.”

It was Meg, and she was carrying a breakfast tray. The aroma of fresh cooked eggs and fresh gooseberry jam wafted from the foot of the bed, and Raven’s stomach recoiled violently. She sprang out of bed, and flew to the window, flinging open the sash and gulping in clean, fresh air.

Concern creased Meg’s freckled face. “My dear girl, are you all right?”

Raven nodded. The nausea was there and then gone in an instant, replaced by a rumbling hunger. “Sorry. It must have been the whiskey last night. I don’t partake of strong drink.”

“Ah, well. You’re feeling better?” “Oh, yes. Much better.”

“I thought we’d break our fast together, if you don’t mind,” Meg said, smiling as she poured first one cup of tea, and then the other. “It was such a pleasure to see Eben again after so long, and especially since he’s no longer alone.”

“Oh, but we aren’t together—if that’s what you think. In fact, we dislike one another a great deal. Especially this morning.”

“This morning?”

“Um,” Raven said, aware that she had said too much. “I often wake up wishing he were dead.”

Meg’s brow furrowed, and her lips formed a thin line. “Is that so?”

“Oh, is that sugar?” Raven said with a bright smile. “May I have some?”

She stirred several lumps into her tea, then, added more. It was very sweet, and quite delicious. The uncomfortable moment had passed without question, and Raven’s mind turned to other things. It occurred to her that Meg might be a ready source of information that Eben refused to supply. “Meg?”

“Yes, dear?” “Who is Ivory?”

Meg nearly choked on her tea. She coughed and she sputtered, and when she could breathe again, her voice sounded a little strangled. “Ivory? Well, now. How did you find out about her?”

“For a time, Eben was very ill, and he called out to her, and to you.”

Meg watched Raven with steady eyes, and her small, half- smile never wavered. “Ivory is the judge’s only daughter, and a fine piece of work she is. Her name is rarely mentioned in this house because he and I do not agree on that subject, and never is she mentioned in Eben’s presence. It’s a sore subject with him, I fear.”

“So, he was in love with her?” Raven pressed. She wasn’t quite sure why she needed to know, except that so much of Eben’s past remained a mystery. Perhaps in understanding fully, he would be less a fascination for her, less attractive, like a wart on one’s finger that one saw all the time.

“They were to be wed, and two days before the day, Eben packed a few things and left town. He never would talk about it—not to me, or the judge. And she was not about to allow what had happened between them. A month later, she did marry. A merchant from Kittanning. I always did think it was a good thing that Eben got away when he did, though Zeb still hasn’t forgiven him the abruptness of it all.” Meg lifted the china pot and held it poised over Raven’s cup. “More tea?”

“No, thank you. I think I’ve had enough.” She set her cup on the tray, and an impatient knock sounded. He did not wait for her to answer, but opened the door.

“You’re awake,” he said. “Good.”

Raven scowled at his presumptuousness. “How dare you enter my room without being invited!”

Instead of rising to her baiting, he laughed at her. “Smooth your ruffled feathers, chit, and get dressed. You’re coming with me. Meet me downstairs in five minutes, or the canoe leaves without you.”

“Canoe?”

“Yes, dear. You heard him right. Canoe. Have a look, but you’d better hurry. I’ll see you when you get back.” Meg went out.

Raven had been to the window, but she’d been too preoccupied with fighting back her strange nausea to notice what lay beyond. After hurrying to wash her face, brush her hair and don the buckskins, she dared to glance outside.

Where land had been last night, now there was water.

Nothing, save the highest ground on which the building sat was out of water. McAllister’s Inn had become an island overnight, and Eben meant to take her out into that muddy flow. Filled with an excitement that quickly drowned her earlier pique with Eben, she ran from the room and down the stairs.

“Hold her fast, Jacob!” Eben was standing in a foot of water, but he came forward quickly, a smile on his lean face when he saw Raven’s animated expression. Her excitement was contagious, and not for the first time, he was seeing the world through her eyes. Damned if she didn’t make him feel young and adventurous, something he hadn’t felt in a long, long time.

For years, he’d felt that his youth had been stolen from him that long-ago day when his parents were murdered and Jase captured. The eight-year-old boy he’d been had bled his

innocence into the dust beside his mother’s pitiful remains with every tear he’d shed.

The way she’d looked, one arm reaching, stretched toward the body of her husband a few yards away, had been forever etched on his brain. The carnage that day had given him grim purpose, toughness and tenacity.

Now, instead of his first waking thought being of that horrid, bloody evening, it was of Raven. He didn’t comprehend why the change had occurred. It just had. And, since sooner or later she would exit his life for good, on the arm of another man, he might as well enjoy her company while he still could.

She waited on the steps, her eyes round with awe. Eben stood there for a moment, looking up at her. “Frightened?” he asked.

“Have you ever manned a canoe, m’sieur?” “A number of times, mademoiselle.” “Then, why should I be frightened?”

He swept her off her feet and deposited her in the vessel’s bow, then climbed in after her and took up the paddle. Soon, they were gliding through the floodtide, straight as an arrow in flight, Eben’s powerful strokes lending the impetus to the graceful little craft.

They traveled north, away from the inn for a mile or two, and from shore to shore there was nothing but water. It was difficult to determine where the still backwaters ended and the swift flowing river began. It gave her an inward chill, looking out across the swirling brown mass. One tip of the canoe, a single missed stroke could send them spilling into the dangerous flood.

Finally, they reached their destination. The town of McAllister’s Ford was little more than a village built upon a small crescent of land that hugged the riverbed, one main street lined with houses and shops, and two alleys running adjacent to it. They glided up the main street, and children wading and splashing called and waved to them. It was

unimpressive compared to Pittsburgh, yet it had a sort of rustic charm.

Another boat, this one with a flat bottom and a set of oars came slowly toward them. The black-haired man propelling it along hailed Eben in a high-pitched, nasal voice. “Hello! St.

Claire! Is that you, for God’s sake? I had no idea that you were here! And you’ve brought a beauty with you.” He swept off his low-crowned hat. “Miss.”

“Sam,” Eben said. “How goes the life of the town’s only doctor?”

“Busy. Old man Pritcher is abed with the gout, and Shirley Benson picked today to have her baby. Four in five years. I wish that husband of hers would plow his fields more, and his wife less. Beggin’ your pardon, Miss.” He turned to Eben again, his ribald comment forgotten. “You’ll be acting as captain at the Grand Circular Hunt, of course?”

“I hadn’t heard,” Eben said, “but aye, I suppose. I wouldn’t miss it.”

“Well, I’d best be on my way. Eben, it’s good to see you! Pretty lady, I look forward to claiming you for a dance at the Hunter’s Ball.”

“He’s very friendly,” Raven said as they moved on. “But what was he talking about?”

Eben plied his paddle. “A wolf hunt. There’s still a lot of livestock lost to predation, so once a year the county men get together, and have a circular hunt. The night following is the Hunter’s Ball.”

“A big hunting party? There must be a great deal of shooting.”

Eben chuckled. “No, my sweet. Only the officers have firearms. The lesser ranks can bring their dogs and a staff or club if they feel the need. Otherwise, it’s mostly bells and a few pots and pans to make noise. The greater the din, the better.”

“That’s ludicrous.” The thought of grown men traipsing through the woods, tooting horns and banging pots with sticks

and spoons made her giggle. “Wolves are not intimidated by sticks and spoons!”

“The wolves are not the greatest danger. It’s a festive day, and most of the men begin celebrating right after breakfast. By nightfall, they’re well lit with whiskey and beer. Firearms and whiskey are always a bad combination.”

“I see.” She didn’t, really, but she was determined to witness the event for herself. “The doctor said that you’re an officer, and you’ll have a weapon, so we’ll be quite safe.”

“We?”

“I’m coming with you,” she said. “I’ve never witnessed anything like this, and it sounds like great fun.”

He shook his head. “No, lass. You can’t go—it isn’t allowed. The women stay home because it’s too dangerous. Besides, their talents are better suited to preparing food and drink for the festivities that come after.”

“This is dangerous,” Raven reasoned. “But because I’m with you, I’m not afraid.”

“Put the thought from your head, woman,” he said with finality, and his tone was more abrupt than it had been in several weeks, very like it had been when they first met, before she’d fallen in love with him, before they’d made love. “Young ladies do not attend wolf hunts. They attend the Hunter’s Ball. And that’s final.”

Raven threw a dark look over one shoulder. “We’ll see about that.”

He beached the canoe in a high-sloping yard, tying it off to a sapling and stepping out. When he reached a hand to help her out, her anger with his stubbornness began to fade. Tall virgin forest all but surrounded a two-room structure, lending it a cozy air, a feeling of security despite the floodwaters lapping just a few yards from the dooryard. The last time he’d taken her to someone’s door, it had been to Sally Sourwine’s brothel. She eyed the place speculatively. “Is this another whorehouse?”

Eben laughed. “No, it’s not a whorehouse. Ellen Miller lives here. She’s Jacob’s mother, and a seamstress. You’d like a new wardrobe, wouldn’t you?”

“Gowns? As in, more than one?”

“More than one,” he said, smiling down at her.

“You are buying me a trousseau?” she asked suspiciously. It seemed the likeliest reason for him to spend so much coin on her. He’d dress her up in fancy things and then he’d marry her off to someone else.

Eben took one his small black cigars out of his breast pocket and hung it from his lower lip. “M’lady, you may call it whatever you like, but the plain truth is that hunting shirts and leggings aren’t considered proper attire for young ladies. You can’t go around dressed like a man. People will talk, and if the wrong thing is said, then I might have to kill someone.”

“You would kill someone for gossiping about me?” she said.

Eben sighed. “Raven, you are wasting time. Do you want the clothes or not?”

Eben took her hand and brought her up beside him. He knocked and the door opened. A raw-boned woman of about forty opened the door. Ellen was the first person who seemed unsurprised to see him. “Why, hello, Eben. How are you?”

“Well enough,” he replied. “Are you up for a bit of business?”

“Always,” she said with a smile. She opened the door to let them pass, an exceptionally tall woman, but attractive, with clear skin and lovely hazel eyes. She was dressed in the height of fashion, a muslin gown belted high beneath her breasts with a pale blue ribbon. Her hair was done up in a Grecian style, with a few loose tendrils at her ears. “Well, what have we here?”

“Ellen, this is Raven, my ward. Raven, Ellen Miller.” “She’s exquisite,” the woman said, for all the world as if

Raven could not hear. “What did you have in mind?”

“She must be outfitted, head to toe. Dresses for daytime, and for evening, stockings, shoes and under things. I trust you to handle the details. I don’t know a furbelow from a folderol. You’ve always had an eye for color. You’ll know instinctively what’s best.”

“This is a very tall order,” Ellen told him. “Are you sure about it? Perhaps a gown or two?”

He took her hand and placed a pouch in her palm, closing her fingers around it. “Just do it.”

Raven had been listening closely while she wandered around the room. The walls were lined with shelves, and the shelves overflowing with bolts of fabric, lace, and ribbon. A bolt of vermillion velvet caught her eye and she tested the depth of its pile with loving fingers. To her surprise, Eben appeared behind her. “Does it strike your fancy, Raven?”

“It reminds me of Sally’s curtains, but softer, and richer.” She smiled hesitantly, not sure what to expect, or what was expected of her. “It’s very beautiful.”

He lifted the bolt down, unwrapping a length of it, and draped it over her shoulders. Then, he turned her toward the mirror. “Not every woman has the vibrancy to pull it off, but you do.”

Raven met his gaze in the glass. Her hand still stroked the velvet, but her expression had gone serious. “M’sieur, why are you doing this?”

“I’m your guardian—”

“And my lover,” she said softly. “Or, at least you were until last night. Is it because you feel guilty?”

“I don’t feel guilty,” he insisted. He stroked her jaw line with gentle, teasing fingers, softening his voice so that only she could hear. “There was nothing wrong with what we did. If anything, I feel fortunate to have been your first.”

His words warmed her. They were standing very close, speaking low about intimate things, and perhaps because they were in the company of someone else, it was all the more delicious. “Then, why can’t we be together?”

He sighed. “It’s complicated—far too complicated for me to explain. But just because we can’t—doesn’t mean I don’t want you—and sweet, I want you in this.” His lean brown fingers crushed the velvet as they closed over her shoulders.

All of the fight went out of Raven in that instant. A painful lump formed in her throat as she gazed at the picture they made in the mirror. She tried to swallow the poignant emotion back, but couldn’t.

“You were right about me, you know. I’m an ass of the first water. It isn’t often that I have the impulse to do something good, so you have to allow me to follow through with this one thing.” He touched her cheek, gently. “You’ll do that, won’t you?”

Keenly aware that they were not alone, Raven nodded. “Yes, but you will let me choose the fabric?”

Eben turned to the dressmaker. “Whatever her heart desires.”

He left her there while he went about his business, promising to be back at three o’clock.

Ellen smiled warmly at Raven. “Now, then, Raven. What say we have a nice cup of tea before we begin?”