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THE WOODEN BUCKETS WERE CLUMSY and hard to

carry. Their awkwardness made Raven walk twice as fast as she normally would have, just to reach the cabin. With each step, the heavy wood bumped against her legs until they were bruised and sore. The rope bails had at first raised blisters, which had gradually hardened into a ridge of calluses just below her fingers on the palms of her hands. Raven didn’t really mind the calluses. They protected her tender hide from more chafing. It was only when she thought of someday wearing a satin gown that she looked at her ruined hands and sighed.

By the time she reached the end of the path and entered the clearing, she was winded. It was a long walk from the cabin to the creek. She realized that she must have dallied too long at her bath when she noticed the dark clouds overhead. The storm was no longer far off to the west, and she was going to be caught in it, if she didn’t hurry. Despite the threat, the pain that knifed through her side forced her to stop for just a moment and put down her burdens. She would rest just long enough to catch her breath before continuing on to the cabin. Yet the bottoms of the buckets had barely kissed the ground when she snatched them up again. Tied to the post ring in the dooryard were two sleek looking animals. Someone was there, and Papa was unable to defend himself.

There were no candles lit and the fire had nearly gone out.

The interior of the cabin was dim and the shadows deep. Rushing headlong into the gloom, Raven was temporarily blinded. She knew the position of the furnishings, so it was a shock to collide with an obstacle placed directly in her path.

The thing was big and hard, and unmistakably male. It could not possibly be her papa, for he would have been bowled over by the force of the impact, therefore, it must be the owner of the horses. The hands that reached out to steady her were large and warm. Raven recoiled, her sudden flinch bringing a wave of cold water over the lip of the buckets, making a mess on the floor. Frustration filled her. The water

should have lasted through the evening and a good part of the following day. Now, all of her struggle was for nothing.

The stranger didn’t notice the trouble he’d caused. He was far too busy ogling her breasts, barely concealed beneath her thin and cloying calico bodice. By now, Raven’s eyes had adjusted to the light, and she could see where his pale eyes roamed. Whoever this clumsy oaf was, the entire mishap was his fault!

Eben was still trying to tear his gaze away from the full roundness of her breasts when she launched herself at him with a strength amazing for one so small. She landed a few well-aimed blows before he finally managed to catch her wrists and contain her fury. “Goddamn it!” he growled. “Will you hold still?”

But she only struggled more violently in his arms, cursing him roundly in French. Eben’s command of the language was anything but impressive, but he knew enough phrases to understand that the chit intended to emasculate him if she got hold of a knife. Judging from the sharp jabs of her elbows and the murderous tone of her voice, she was quite capable of carrying out the threat. The little wildcat might just decide to use his own knife to execute her planned surgery, and he’d be damned if he’d spend the rest of his days as a eunuch to satisfy her bloodthirsty bent.

“You’re as slippery as an eel,” Eben said, laughing down at her. Her language was atrocious for a young woman. The oaths she peppered the air with were more than colorful, they were damned inventive. By God, where had the little she-demon learned such things? He hadn’t heard such rough talk out of the bearded mouth of the voyageurs on the very long trek to the Pacific.

“Henry, my fine friend,” Eben said, then howled when the girl sank sharp teeth into the pad of his thumb. “Can this spitting, clawing catamount be your daughter?” He shook the injured hand, certain she’d brought blood, the vicious little thing. “Be still, or I will turn you bottoms up and blister that fluffy ass of yours!”

“Raven, child!” Henri’s quavering voice cut through the air. “For the love of the Savior, desist!”

“Papa? Oh, Papa, has this brute hurt you? If he has, I swear, I shall take him apart!”

She stilled in the stranger’s embrace for a moment, and as he loosened his grip on her, she jammed an elbow into his midsection, laughing when the air left him in an audible “Woof!”

To Raven’s dismay, she succeeded only in making him angry. He tightened his grip on her, holding her so close that she could feel the muscles of his chest flex against her back with his every movement. He laughed humorlessly, his breath fanning the side of her face. “Henry, it would seem that you were less than truthful with me. The wench needs more taming than protecting. And she is hardly a child.”

“My most sincere apologies, M’sieur St. Claire,” Henri said, then his voice strengthened. “Raven, ma fille! You insult and abuse an honored guest and bring shame to this household.

You must stop, this instant! Where are your manners, child? Apologize to M’sieur St. Claire!”

“Apologize? Oh, no! Your fever has worsened! You are delirious!” She redoubled her efforts to escape, pushing and treading on the man’s instep. “Ruffian! Let me go! I must see to him!”

“M’sieur,” Henri said. “I beg your forgiveness for Raven’s rude behavior. I am afraid that without her mother’s guiding hand, she has grown a bit wild.” His voice grew stern as he turned to Raven. “Apologize.”

“But, Papa!” “Immediately!”

“Moi s’excuser, m’sieur,” she said, without sounding the least bit contrite.

She was feeling quite pleased with herself until Henri barked, “Anglais!”

Raven snatched in a shocked breath. He sounded almost ashamed of her, her dear papa. Tears stung her eyes and she softened her tone. “I am sorry, m’sieur. My conduct has been nearly as deplorable as your own, and most unfitting. I concede that you are not a toothless badger after all, and promise to leave your masculinity intact, if only you will release me.”

His hand had slipped down to rest on her hip, his fingers pressing against her flat little belly. Was the contact intentional or accidental? It hardly mattered, for Raven longed to slap the warm, hard hand away.

“I’ll let you go, but first let’s have a look at you.” With that, Eben turned her in his arms and tipped up her face, sucking in an involuntary breath. She was breathtaking. Even with an equal mix of belligerence and ingrained hauteur warring for dominance over her small countenance, she was by far the loveliest woman he’d ever seen.

Her features were delicate, her nose slim and straight, her chin softly rounded. Yet there was something else, not quite as obvious, something in the proud tilt of her head, the smoldering dark eyes so full of fiery spirit as she glared at him. Something exotic.

Eben knew he was staring, but he couldn’t seem to help himself. Her lush red lips parted, revealing the small, perfect teeth with which she had bitten him. Desire flared up inside him and he started to lower his head to taste her sweetness… and then he remembered Henry, her father, lying helpless on the cot, observing the tense exchange, and he abruptly checked the impulse.

The chit was watching him warily from behind the cover of her thick lashes, seemingly trying to see behind his cool facade to his intentions. Had she truly possessed such an ability, she would have blushed to the roots of her hair.

“Bastard,” she mouthed, then glanced at the cot and back again, her expression going smug.

Eben laughed outright. “I’ll let you go, little cat, but I warn you to take care what you do. I won’t take kindly to being

attacked.”

He released her and, in a calculated show of bravado, Raven remained where she stood, rubbing her wrists and looking daggers at him. Her boldness seemed to amuse him, and he gave her a grin that was wolfish. His teeth were white against the darkness of his beard. His eyes were an icy blue, startling against the skin of his sun-bronzed face, and devoid of even a trace of warmth. She found those eyes chillingly attractive, and as she stared back at him she wondered abstractly if this was how a bird felt when hypnotized by a snake?

But he was not a snake; he was only a man, made of flesh and blood, just as she was. The thought put her feelings of fear and trepidation in perspective. She relaxed a little, though she did not take her eyes off him, and even shook back her blue- black hair so that it fell down her back in damp disarray. Had she known in that moment how tempting she appeared to him, she might not have been so confident.

Eben got his feelings under control quickly, and deliberately dismissed her. “You didn’t tell me she had Indian blood,” he said to Henry, for all the world as if she weren’t there.

Off to one side and at a little distance, Raven bristled. “I saw no need, m’sieur. Her mother was French and

Delaware, so Raven is but one-quarter Delaware, and as you can see for yourself, her Gallic blood takes precedence.”

“I agree, it takes a trained eye to see,” Eben said. He was watching her again. “She could pass for a daughter of France if not for that hellish temper. Seeing her in action, one knows she is part savage. But that’s all right. I’ll soon take it out of her.”

She seized a broom and thrust it into his hands. “You made this mess. You clean it up!”

Eben handed back the broom and crossed his arms across his chest, gazing down at her as if she were crazed. “May I remind you, little hellcat, that you ran into me. Sweep if you

will; I’ll see to my mount, as I was about to do when you came flying in here. That way, I won’t be in your way.” He turned to Henry. “If you can tell me where your spring is located, I’ll fetch some water for my horses.”

It was Raven who answered. “You bumbling oaf! Why do you think I was carrying the buckets? The only water to be had is in the creek. That way.” She pointed in a southeasterly direction. He exited as she began forcefully plying the broom to scoot the water out the door.

Just as soon as the frontiersman had gone, Raven threw down the broom and rushed to Henri’s side. “Papa! Who was that horrid man?”

“Salvation, ma petite,” Henri replied. “My sweet child, we must talk. There is so little time left to us, and so very much I need to say. Promise me that you will listen without interrupting until I have finished.”

He was going to talk of his death, and her bleak future. Raven would do anything to avoid the conversation. “It is better that you rest, Papa. Later, when you are stronger, we can talk.”

Henri shook his head slowly. “I must talk now. And you must listen.”

Something dark and sinister lurked just beyond his next utterance. Raven found herself wanting to cover her ears, as she had done as a child when thunder rumbled through the valley. But, she wasn’t a child. She was a woman. And she made herself listen.

“Soon, my dear, we must part. I am going to join your mother.”

She did her best to hold back her tears, but she was powerless to control the roiling emotion inside her completely. Liquid grief welled up, and her vision swam; a single scalding tear escaped her lower lashes and coursed down her cheek.

“Non, my love. Do not be sad. I am not sad—only that I must leave you alone. But now, you will not be alone. M’sieur St. Claire has promised to look after you, to see you safely to a

new place, to help you get settled. I have made the arrangements. The bargain is sealed. It is done, and you will honor it.”

“Bargain, Papa? What bargain?” She knew of the casket of gold coins buried under the floorboards, and she knew exactly which board to pull up to find it. But, had her father, in his eagerness to absolve his guilt at leaving her alone told the tall stranger of this fortune? Raven had looked deeply into the frigid depths of the man’s blue eyes, as Henri could not have. She had seen and recognized his ruthlessness.

“The price of his cooperation is agreed upon. A thousand dollars for M’sieur St. Claire to take you to Pittsburgh. It is a small price, ma fille, to have my worries borne by another capable of the carrying. The remainder of the money will pay for your living expenses once you arrive. There, you will have a decent home, some frilly dresses to lighten your woman’s heart, and other young ladies to gossip with. And who can say? If Fate is kind, perhaps one day you will meet a young man who catches your fancy? I should like to think of you happily married, ma cherie. M’sieur St. Claire has kindly agreed to arrange the details in my stead.”

Raven went cold, from the tips of her toes to her crown. “No, Papa. No! It’s the illness. Not this man! He is very treacherous! A man who will take advantage of someone more vulnerable than he. He is a snake in the weeds, a lecher, a—”

“A lecher? Raven, did he take advantage of you? Tell me the truth.”

“Not in the way you say, but for a moment there, I felt certain he intended to kiss me!”

“Ah, I see.” For a moment Henri was quiet, content to hold her hand in his, to watch her. When he spoke again, his voice had softened. “You are wrong about him, my child. This man has a kindness in him, though for some reason he strives to hide it. Perhaps he believes, like you, that if he is found to be vulnerable, someone will take advantage of his good nature.”

“You did not look into his eyes. He’s very cruel.”

“He was angry. There is a difference. Besides, he was not exactly eager to take on the role of your guardian. I had to cajole him into believing that you will cause him no trouble, that you are sweet and uncomplaining. He knows now that I lied. There is a good possibility that he will ask to be released from his promise.”

“I shall pray that it is so,” Raven said. “But, if he doesn’t—

”

“Mon dieu, daughter! Will you stop scheming? You are

willful and spoiled, and I am ashamed you have come to this pass. By God, I am glad your gentle maman is not here to witness your contrariness!”

The effort at so long a speech was too much for him. He collapsed in a fit of lung-wracking coughing that ended in him waving her away. “Go. Go,” he said, once he could breathe again.

Raven was immediately contrite for having vexed him so.

He was her dearest Papa, and she loved him to distraction. But did she love him enough to give him what he wanted? Or, at least to give the appearance of compliance with his wishes? “I am sorry, Papa. I did not mean to worry you. I will be the ward of this dreadful man, if that is what you truly want.”

“Good. Now, go and bring the casket.”