0

THE FIRST DAYS OF OCTOBER ticked off one by one while the leaves bloomed brilliant and began to fall. November came and the air was crisp and sweet with a sharp tang of autumn that quickened Raven’s blood. She hadn’t had her monthly flow since just before their arrival in Pittsburgh, and her belly was flat no longer. The sickness that arrived like clockwork each morning was followed by a ravenous appetite in late afternoon. As the beautiful dresses Eben had commissioned for her began to arrive, she blessed the current popularity of Empire waistlines, which effectively hid her condition from—almost—everyone.

Meg, who was more a sister to Eben than anything, worried Raven. She’d taken to knocking on Raven’s chamber door quite early, bringing breakfast on a tray. Without failure, Raven’s nausea flared the moment she sat upright, and before she could mutter an apology, she was heaving over the chamber pot.

This morning in particular, she felt the older woman’s eyes upon her, weighing, judging. But instead of shame, Raven felt only a mild annoyance that the woman would pry into her affairs.

Meg sat the tray on the foot of the bed, then busied herself straightening out the covers, humming to herself all the while. When finally, Raven sat back, the sickness fading, she handed her a linen napkin with which to blot the cold sweat from her brow. “It’s a pain in the rump, morning sickness,” she said casually. “But it usually passes by the time you’re three or four months gone.”

Raven sat down on the bed, but she wouldn’t look at Meg directly. This was a new twist, and she wasn’t sure how to deal with it. “How long have you known?”

“Not long. A week or two. When you didn’t ask for rags to deal with your monthlies, it was a glaringly big clue. Have you told him, yet?”

“He can’t know about this,” Raven said. She’d been nervous around him, afraid he would notice the changes happening to her body, the fullness of her breasts, the gentle rounding of her belly. His baby was growing inside her, and she was strangely anxious to keep the secret all to herself.

Meg smiled. “He will know, sooner or later. It’s not a secret that’s easy to keep, and the clock is ticking the months away.

When this child arrives, there won’t be much mystery as to when it happened and who it belongs to. What is it that frightens you? Are you afraid that he won’t make it right?”

“I don’t want him if he doesn’t want me, and a baby won’t change that. He’ll hate me for it, and he’ll hate the child. If we are together, then it must be because we want to be, not because I’m with child.”

Meg frowned at that. “Raven, I think you midjudge him. He may be blockheaded at times, but he isn’t dishonorable.”

“He doesn’t want a family.”

Meg snorted. “Then he should have kept his britches on.”

Finally, Raven raised her gaze to Meg’s, clearly communicating her wish to keep this secret until she was ready to tell on her own terms. “You won’t tell him?”

She huffed a sigh. “No, my dear, I won’t tell him. But I don’t know that I’ve ever seen a more foolish pair than the two of you.” She shook her head, and her frown lingered, even as she poured the tea. “Can you eat something? That child needs its nourishment if it’s to contend with the life you’re handing it.”

“Actually, I’m famished,” Raven said. “Is there gooseberry jam? I do love gooseberry jam! It’s my favorite.”

The next morning, Meg’s knock didn’t sound, and Raven wondered if now that her suspicions were confirmed, she’d be content to let Raven handle her difficulties as she saw fit.

Instead, the ring of a hammer striking steel roused her from her warm nest and lured her to the window, wearing nothing but the lace adorned chemise that Eben purchased for her in Pittsburgh.

Eben worked shirtless at an anvil in the stable yard, hammering a horseshoe. Bracing her palms on the windowsill, she leaned forward, the better to admire the breadth of his shoulders and back. With every powerful stroke of his hammer, the muscles in his right arm and shoulder quivered and leapt. So caught up in her admiration was she that it took her a moment to notice the dark-haired man lounging at a little distance from the inn, very near Meg’s prized holly bushes. He was clean-shaven and devilishly handsome, with a sensual mouth and a cleft in his chin.

The stranger said something to Eben that Raven couldn’t hear and lifted his gaze to her window. Secure in the knowledge that she was concealed behind the lace of the curtain, she boldly stared back—until he gave a flirtatious wink and that unabashed gaze moved appreciatively over her, pausing at the tawny tips of her nipples, darker now with pregnancy and far more visible. Blushing, she jerked back, and hurried to dress, avoiding her window for fear he’d still be standing there staring.

Down in the yard, Eben finished with the shoe and dropped it in the horse trough to cool. He left the forge and anvil and wiping his hands on the leather apron tied around his lean middle, he greeted the new arrival properly, with a handshake and a good thump on the back. “What brings you so far north, my friend?”

“It was a little too warm for comfort in Virginia, so I thought to look you up. I’d heard roundabout that you were back from your ramblin’, and it seemed an innocent diversion

—somethin’ I’m not greatly given to these days.”

“I take it this heat you mention had nothing to do with the weather?” Eben surmised. He’d known Tyler Lee Jackson for a decade, and he did have a knack for finding trouble, even when he wasn’t specifically looking for it. The man was interesting, as far as companions went, and adept at keeping boredom at bay.

“Mother caught wind of a little disagreement I had with Phineas Dumont. An affair of honor, I believe they call it.”

“Your affair, his honor?”

“He’s married to a very attractive younger woman with an appetite he apparently can’t satisfy. It certainly was not my fault that Mrs. Phineas was taken with me.”

“And is the widow now merry?”

“Well, I didn’t kill him, if that’s what you mean,” he explained. I purposely winged the man, and then, when his second drew on me, I was forced to take Barnaby’s pistol and drill him, as well.”

“And you winged him, too, I suppose.”

Tyler Lee sighed. “No, he died, I’m afraid. I was aiming for his shoulder, but the poor fool bolted as I squeezed off the shot. Took it straight through the heart. Most unfortunate. As it happens, his father, a member of the Virginia State legislature, took it especially hard. When he started making noises about a trial and a noose, I decided I missed the stimulation of your company.”

Eben grinned and slapped Tyler on the back again. “Well, it’s damned good to see you again, no matter the circumstances. Let’s take this inside, shall we? I’ve been out here most of the morning and could use some coffee.”

“Coffee with whiskey, you say? Sounds like a fine way to round out my morning. Take the chill from this Virginia boy’s bones. Damned if it isn’t nippy out here.”

“I think we can find a dram for your coffee.” Eben found the pot, simmering on the hearth spider, just far enough from the blaze to keep it from boiling. He poured Tyler a mugful, and one for himself, added a dribble of whiskey in both and sat down. “What does the family think about all of this? I take it they’re less than pleased?”

“They’re never pleased, St. Claire. I swear, it’s a trial being the black sheep. Mother was in a heat already over the mess with Julian.”

“Your brother?” Eben glanced sharply up from his cup. “Oh, God. I’m not sure I want to hear this.”

“It wasn’t like I’d been sleeping with his wife, or anything.

A man’s got to draw the line somewhere hasn’t he? But he took offense at something that was said and demanded that I give him satisfaction. He’s such a puffed-up peacock, in any case, and I think he imagined himself putting an end to my ‘casting slurs on the Jackson name’.”

“Well, did you kill him?”

“Murder my own flesh and blood? What sort of scoundrel do you take me for? I was a little in my cups—just enough to make giving him a small remembrance irresistible.” He touched the top of his ear and grinned.

“You notched Julian’s ear?” Eben said.

Tyler Lee shrugged. “Well, they were sticking out there.

And he shouldn’t have provoked me in the first place.” Tyler spread his hands and sat back in his chair, but his studied air of negligence was a sham and Eben knew it. He enjoyed the part he played, rich and landed, charismatic, and thoroughly dissipate. Yet, Eben knew from experience that the Southerner wasn’t as frivolous as he seemed. He was a deadly shot, an excellent hand at poker, and probably the best horseman Eben had ever seen.

“Well,” Eben said finally. I’m glad that you haven’t lost your skill with a weapon. You’ll need it if you plan on staying here. As for your brother, I never liked him anyway.”

“Did you make his acquaintance?” Tyler questioned. “I can’t recall.”

“What the hell does that have to do with it?” Eben raised his mug in salute. “I’m glad you’re here.”

Even as the whiskey-laced coffee touched Eben’s lips, his ward was sneaking down the back stairway near the kitchen. She had two hours to herself before the final fitting for the last few remaining garments in her extensive new wardrobe. Being pricked with pins, measured and remeasured, was not her idea of fun, but she would enjoy a walk along the creek.

Hearing voices, she stopped just outside the kitchen door and peered around the frame. She could see the long, booted

legs of the insolent man from the stable yard stretched out beneath the table. His clothing hinted at wealth, she could see that at a glance. His knee-length boots were soft calfskin, and as she watched, fascinated, one elegant hand came to rest on his knee, and for the barest instant, the signet ring he wore flashed an evil wink.

Eben came out of his chair and went to the hearth, pouring himself another cup of coffee. Before he turned to offer to refill his companion’s cup, that one leaned forward and, intentionally meeting Raven’s curious gaze, he winked at her again.

Caught, she moved back, out of sight, and fled to the out of doors, but it was a long while before the brisk autumn air cooled the flush from her cheeks.

“Are you home for good?”

Tyler’s question caught Eben off guard and he hesitated. “For a time, at least. I’m going to look for a piece of land.”

“You, a farmer?”

Eben shook his head. “I do not see myself behind a plow.” He took a sip of his coffee before he continued. “I’ve a mind to raise some horses. Something solid and dependable.

Something a man can count on not to pull up lame, or worse, when he’s in a tight spot.”

“And have you found that land yet?”

“Not just yet—but soon. I’ve had a lot on my mind lately.” Tyler Lee grinned, and his teeth flashed white in his dark-

skinned face. “Care to tell me about her?”

“Her name is Raven,” Eben replied, “and I’ve no intention of allowing her within ten feet of you.”

“Raven, eh? The name intrigues me.”

“Down, boy! This particular girl happens to be my ward.

She’s off limits.”

Tyler Lee laughed, delighted with the quandary in which his friend found himself. “Your ward? So, her last guardian

was a lunatic, to place her under your protection?”

“I’ve wondered as much myself, but in truth, the man was dying.” Eben stroked his chin, thinking about poor old Henry. “I’m afraid he didn’t have much choice.”

“Well, if she’s of age, you can always marry her off,” Tyler Lee suggested. “It’s the honorable thing, and she’ll be off your hands.”

Eben thought about it, and thought about it, and thought about it. In fact, he’d been able to think of little else since they’d come home from Pittsburgh. And every time he thought of it, he recoiled from it, unable to stomach the thought of another man putting his hands on her fine soft skin, of another man burying himself in her wondrous, tight little sheath. It made him angry, and it made him sweat, and he shoved it back again to the eventuality of tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow. And not surprising, tomorrow for Raven finding another man, never came.

“What about you?” Eben asked, changing the subject. “Are you staying for the hunt, or are you headed off again?”

“Y’all hunt foxes here in Pennsylvania?”

And now, Eben smiled, his thoughts fixed on something besides Raven. “It’s bigger quarry we’ve after,” he said, bending to scratch the scarred ears of the old hound lying at his feet. “And a more durable hound we employ.”

THE BULLETINS WERE EVERYWHERE, TACKED in

the common room at the inn, nailed to storefronts in town, even posted on trees along the road. They were impossible to miss, and they only served to rub salt into Raven’s wounds.

Her life at the inn was uneventful. Eben was gone a great deal, sometimes for days at a time, and no one seemed to know where he went or why. Meg, more often than not, was busy in the kitchen, and could offer no help in solving the mystery, or in easing Raven’s boredom and loneliness. That left Nan, the man-crazy girl who worked at the inn, and the judge, whom Raven didn’t like very well.

Her days were empty, devoid of all but the smallest of joys. Now, came the opportunity she’d been waiting for, a diversion to break up the monotony of her mundane existence, and Eben had forbidden her to attend. And the only excuse he offered was that he and his pigheaded friends considered it a manly occupation. No women allowed. It simply wasn’t done.

Since Henri had given her the freedom and approval and guidance to do whatever her heart desired, it was a bitter draught to swallow. Argument wouldn’t sway him—even if she could find him to lay her case before him—he was stubborn, and when he had set his mind to something—as unyielding as stone. So, if she was to ride out with the men the next evening, she would have to find another way.

A mixture of boredom and excitement drove Raven to the cavernous kitchen later that afternoon. Ellen Miller had come and gone an hour before, taking the vermillion gown with her, the very last to be completed and the one she would wear to the ball. Eben, in the company of the tall, good-looking Virginian, had gone off on another of his mysterious errands, and Raven was at loose ends.

Meg glanced up as Raven entered the kitchen. “I thought you were napping,” she said, turning the blade of a paring knife against the shining red and green skin of an apple. A pie shell sat near her elbow, half filled with sliced apples, sprinkled with cinnamon, flour and sugar.

“I couldn’t sleep.”

“It’s all this excitement in the air. The hunt, and the ball.

Everyone in the county’s caught a fever over it.”

“Meg, do you think Eben will attend the ball?” She reached for a knife and an apple, but Meg frowned her disapproval. “You’ll ruin your hands. Just relax and think of the child.”

“I think of little else these days.” Raven sighed, folding her hands in her lap. “Sometimes I wish I’d never met Eben.”

“It’s natural, I suppose, in your situation.” Meg looked at her with a thoughtful expression. “And if he hadn’t come

along when he did, then where would you be right now?” “Facing a long winter alone.”

“With many worries about where the food would come from, and the firewood to keep warm. At least, you don’t have to fret over your next meal while you’re with us, or how you’ll keep warm.”

“At least, I wouldn’t be carrying Eben’s bastard child.”

Meggie put down the knife and wiped her hands on her apron, her expression fierce. “Don’t you dare disparage this innocent life! This babe has done nothing wrong, and neither have you. As for Eben—he’ll come around, you’ll see. If he don’t, why I’ll knock his damned fool head in.” She smiled a little at that last statement. “Ease up on all of this, Raven, and let your thoughts focus round tomorrow. You’ve still got plenty of time. Many a nine-pound babe’s been born prematurely. You ain’t the first, my girl, and you surely won’t be the last!”

Meg’s words gave Raven some hope that maybe things would be all right in the end, and for a little while at least, she turned her thoughts to how she would manage to attend the wolf hunt without Eben finding out.