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THE MORNING OF THE GRAND Circular Hunt had finally arrived, and as she climbed out of bed and began her morning toilette, Raven could hear Eben’s voice in the yard outside her window, followed by the laughter of the Virginian. In a moment, the back door banged as the pair entered the kitchen. Raven splashed her face a final time, enjoying the bracing cold water on her skin, then dried, and quickly padded to the large cherry wardrobe containing her newly made clothing. She opened the doors and quickly thumbed through the gowns, catching her bottom lip in her teeth as she decided what to wear.

The knock at her door startled her. “Who is it?”

“It’s Eben. I missed you at dinner last night and wanted to see how you were faring. Can I come in?”

“I’m not dressed.”

“All the better,” he said in a voice warm and low.

The knob rattled, and she hurriedly slipped into his robe, belting it loosely under her breasts. Warily, she unlatched the door and eased the panel open, peering at him through the crack. “What do you want, m’sieur?”

“A moment of privacy, lass. Is that too much to ask?” “At this moment, yes, it is.”

He looked at her as if he did not believe what he was hearing. “What on earth is going on here? Have you found some likely swain in my absence? Someone to take my place?”

“What if I have?” She couldn’t help taunting him just the smallest bit. It served him right for being so neglectful.

“Then, I will have to respect your wishes and bow out gracefully, but not without a moment of your time, sweetheart.” She would have closed the door, but the devil had wedged his boot into the crack, and closing it was impossible. “Let me in, Raven. Please?”

Why was it so hard to deny him anything, when he’d denied her everything by pushing her away? “One moment,” she insisted. “That is all.”

She moved away from the door, and he stepped inside, closing it at his back. “Is what Meg said about you true?”

Raven’s heart accelerated in her breast. She looked everywhere but at him. She crossed her arms over her waist. Uncrossed them. Then crossed them again. “What did she say?”

“That you were incapacitated and did not feel up to coming down to dinner.” His pale blue gaze searched her face for signs of illness. “If it’s serious, I’ll go find Sam, and bring him here.”

She could not admit that she’d been incapacitated because of a craving for apples, or that she’d eaten half a dozen and been unable to leave the vicinity of the chamber pot all evening. Pregnancy was taking its toll on her. She felt sick one moment, and ravenous the next. And she really did not want to answer foolish if well-meaning questions, even if they came from him. “It was just a stomach ache, Eben. Now, go! I’d very much like to get dressed, and I can’t do that with you here.”

Reaching out, he cupped her chin in his palm. “Where has this sudden shyness come from? You weren’t at all shy when we were sharing a room at Sally’s.”

“Everything was different, then.”

“That’s true,” he said, his voice turning quiet, thoughtful. “I find I liked us better then.” Raven saw the impulse overtake him—his eyes took on an intensity she hadn’t seen in weeks, and barely suppressed emotion crossed his features, then, was gone. He reached for her, but Raven stepped back, holding him at bay with an upraised hand.

“Don’t you understand that you cannot have everything you want, all the time? You made love to me, then, you set me aside. Am I supposed to wait here in my room until you make up your mind as to what you really want? Wait for your knock

at my door? Accept the few moments you can spare for me every now and then?” She made a noise of pure frustration, jerking the door open. “Out!” she said, thrusting a finger at the hallway. “And don’t come back!”

She railed at the locked door in French for several minutes, mostly because it was what she always resorted to when angered, and because he would not understand a word. Then, when she’d calmed sufficiently, she dressed demurely in a dress of apple green sprigged muslin with a cherry-colored sash, swept her hair into a loose knot atop her head, and went in search of Jacob Miller in the hope that he would prove an ally.

Late that same afternoon, Jacob stole a nervous glance at his cousin Raiford, and grinned a little sheepishly. Raiford was perched on the swayback of an ancient mule named “Fireball” borrowed from the judge’s stables. In the glory of her youth, Fireball had more than lived up to her sobriquet, but these days she barely managed a bone-jolting trot. Jacob caught Raiford’s gaze and whispered. “You sure you’re all right?”

“I’m fine, and you must stop asking. Treat me the same as you would your friends.”

“But Mr. St. Claire ain’t one to take kindly to lyin’, and if anything bad was to happen—”

He broke off as Eben stepped off the porch of the Fleabane Tavern and headed in their direction. “Jacob, where’s your uncle Ned?” he asked once he’d reached them. He patted Jacob’s horse’s neck.

“Feelin’ poorly, Cap’n, so I brung my cousin Raiford Kenton from up the Kiskiminetas.”

“Raiford, is it?”

Raven gave a jerky nod and stared at the ground. She’d dressed in a derelict collection of boy’s rags, and donned an old slouch hat with the brim pulled low to shade her face, but would it be sufficient for her to avoid detection? She felt that penetrating stare of his slide over her, but it failed to linger, and seconds later, he was once again speaking to Jacob.

“Seems a little scrawny for a night hunt,” Eben said. “You maybe should have left the lad at home with his folks.”

“He may be on the small side, but he’s pretty tough,” Jacob assured him.

“Just to be on the safe side, fall in with me. I’ll try to keep an eye out for the both of you.”

“Aye, sir. Thank you.”

“Aye, sir, thank you, sir,” Raven mimicked when Eben was once again leaning against a porch post, waiting for the judge to address the men. “Have you gone mad, Jacob? We can’t have that man looking after us!”

“I’m sorry,” Jacob said. “I didn’t know what else to say.”

Then, Zeb walked up the steps and motioned the crowd of men and boys to silence. “Gentlemen! We need to ride soon, so my address will be brief! You will form companies of thirty men each, excluding officers. Those of you unfamiliar with the rules of the hunt, take heed. Liquor and firearms are prohibited.”

There was a full-blown chorus of groans, but the judge easily overrode them. “Now, now! It’s with good reason! Many of you will recall the incident a few years back when Bill Bently shot his brother, Bob. Now, we all know that Bob is somewhat lacking in looks, but even on all fours as he was at the time, he could hardly be mistaken for a wolf!” Laughter rippled through the gathering, and Bob Bently, who waited on the fringes of the front row, turned bright red. “Lastly, any celebration can take place tomorrow night when we’ll meet for the Hunter’s Ball. Keep the hounds leashed when we reach the Riddenower farm. Miss Riddenower prizes her hens. Now, then, are we ready to move out?”

“Aye!” the crowd roared as one voice.

“Fall back, and we’ll ride in the rear,” Jacob suggested.

Raven started to nudge the mule forward when someone pulled a magnificent horse up beside her. A shock ran through her as she glanced up into the dark handsome face of the

Virginian. “Nice evening for a ride,” he murmured, and from the smirk on his face, she knew she’d been found out.

Not trusting her voice, Raven said nothing. She stared straight ahead, and prayed he’d move on. To her fury, he hung back, his big-muscled bay keeping pace with old Fireball. “I’d like to say your attire becomes you, but I find I liked the lacy chemise much better.”

“Will you go away!” Suddenly, despite the ragged, baggy clothes and light coating of soot she’d rubbed onto her face, she felt naked. Somehow, that irritating man with the lazy, impudent grin and the laughing green eyes had seen through her disguise when Eben had not. With a two-fingered salute and a delighted laugh, he kicked his mount and thundered past the single-file column to fall in beside Eben.

Would the dark-haired rogue on the big bay confess to Eben and spoil her fun? She watched for several minutes as they chatted companionably, and after a while, began to relax.

The group of men moved north in an orderly fashion. Jacob rode ahead of Raven, looking back periodically as if to assure himself that she was all right. When at last, they reached their destination, the members of the party dismounted, hobbling or tying their horses so they wouldn’t be lost during the hunt.

Eben struck a stance before them. “Spread out! We have a lot of ground to cover, and you don’t need to be elbow to elbow. Most of you have attended hunts in the past, but for those of you who haven’t, I’ll explain. This line of straw is the outer perimeter, and it is two and a half miles directly through the center. In the middle of this circle is another, and in the center of that lies a steep sided pit. You will not be able to see the man next to you at all times, but stay within shouting distance. If you lose your way, cry out. Someone will hear you. But for Christ’s sake, don’t reverse your position. There are cliffs to the rear, and we don’t want to ruin tomorrow’s festivities by having to prepare for a burial.”

His speech concluded, he walked among their ranks, speaking to those he knew, nodding to others, until he came to Jacob and Raven.

Keep an eye on him, Jacob. It would be a ruddy shame to have to inform his mother that he ended up as bait for the wolves.”

“Oh, he ain’t got no ma, Cap’n,” Jacob said as Eben started to turn away.

Raven, standing shoulder to shoulder with her cousin, drove an elbow into his ribs.

Eben turned back, laying a hand on Raven’s tense shoulder.

She kept her head down, and refused to look at him, praying he’d simply move on. “I can see the pain is still fresh, but try to buck up, lad. The time’ll soon come when it doesn’t hurt as badly.” His gaze slid to Jacob. “He seems uncommonly shy. How old is he?”

“Thirteen,” Jacob said quickly.

“A hard age for any lad,” Eben said. He clapped the boy on the shoulder, the impetus of the blow sending him forward a step. “Rest easy, Raiford. We’ll make a man of you yet.”

As he walked away, Raven glared at his back, marveling at his capacity for blindness.

God had been in a violent mood when he molded this land, Raven thought, making her way carefully along. Jacob had given her a flaming pine knot, and now she held it high, peering into the darkness ahead. The ground rose sharply upward, and huge gray boulders, crowned with lichen and in some places, thick stances of mountain laurel loomed far above her head.

In her left hand was the brass bell Jacob had given her.

Cold reassurance. She’d last had a glimpse of her cousin ten minutes before, and though she wasn’t sure how it had happened, it seemed they’d been separated. She rang the bell and waited. Off in the distance, the hounds were bawling frantically. They’d caught the scent of something and had struck a trail. But there was no answer from Jacob—or, from anyone else, for that matter.

Jacob was off to her right, out of sight and hearing. Or was he?

She stood a moment, peering at the dark walls of the forest surrounding her. She’d tried to strike an unwavering course, but with all the deadfalls and towering boulders, gullies, and laurel thickets, it had been quite impossible.

Off in the distance, someone hallooed. It sounded again in a moment, farther away. The other hunters were moving, outdistancing Raven. She was already far behind them, too far, perhaps, to catch up.

Raising the torch high, she rang the bell again. The metal clang bounced off the trees and was swallowed by the night. She must move forward. From here, the ground sloped sharply upward. With few options left to her, Raven dug in her toes and began to climb.

The last two yards were nearly vertical, and she was winded by the time she reached the deadfall that crowned the ridge. She grabbed a gnarled root, glancing back down the way she’d come, but saw little beyond where the glow of the torch reached. Her breathing eased, and she turned to the deadfall, ready to climb. She scrambled for a toehold, found purchase, and vaulted up the last ascent. Beside her was another boulder, flat-crowned and at a height just above her head. The top was shadowed, murky, but she thought she detected something there. The skin at her nape prickled, and a chilly finger traced its way down her spine.

Slowly, carefully, she raised the pine knot, its harsh glare reflected in the eyes of the biggest panther she’d had ever seen, and Raven’s heart stood still.

“Careful, Rafe. Don’t move. Don’t even breathe.” It wasn’t Eben’s voice. It was softer, more drawling. The Virginian.

From the corner of her eye, she saw him move from cover into the open. The catamount saw him, too, and before she could scream a warning, it launched its long and lethal body into the air above Raven’s head.

She screamed as a crushing weight fell on her, knocking her to the ground. In her wild struggle for freedom, she managed to knock her attacker aside, but he grabbed a handful of her

coat, and pulled her with him, down the steep slope and into a soft bed of leaves.

For a few seconds, Raven lay stunned, waiting for the pain that would signal the loss of Eben’s child, and when nothing happened, and she was certain the danger had passed, she hit the man who straddled her square in the chest. “Off! Damn your eyes! Get off of me!”

“Will you hold still!” he said, “I’m caught! If you can be patient for just a moment, it will all be over with!”

“What the hell is going on here?” Eben demanded. He wanted clarification as to why Raiford Kent was pinned beneath his friend and self-confessed consummate lover and sometimes despoiler of women. “Of all the depravity! What on earth is wrong with you? Leave the lad, be, Tyler!”

“Get off me, you fool!” Raiford cried, then punctuated the demand by the same string of curses mouthed in angry French he’d had hurled at his own head not so long ago. Suspicion turned to certainty, and certainty to fury. “Raven? What are you doing here? And more importantly, what are you doing here with him?”

“I’ll let her go in a minute,” Tyler said. “There’s this little matter of being caught to address.”

He’d been caught, all right, and Eben had seen quite enough to make him angry. The sight of Raven, lying under the larger, stronger, womanizing Southerner definitely raised his hackles. Snatching his knife from the sheath at his belt, he grabbed the other man by the wrist and with one deft slice, separated them.

“Now, that was totally unnecessary!” Tyler complained, examining the parting of his cuff from his sleeve. “This is one of my best silk shirts, and now it’s ruined!”

“Be thankful it was just your shirt!” Eben growled. “She is

not to be trifled with! I told you that already!”

“But it’s all perfectly fine when you’re the one doing the trifling,” Tyler shot back, reading his anger adeptly. “You’re as

transparent as glass, Eben. A damned flea-bitten dog in a manger!”

Eben stepped toward him, and found himself nose to nose with Raven, instead. The silly garb smote him like a fist. The floppy hat and boy’s coat, shirt, and trousers. He should have seen right through it. Tyler obviously had. “That’s enough!” she said, giving him a shove. “He meant no harm!”

“Meant no harm! Spoken like an innocent! You don’t know him like I do!”

Tyler stepped in close, his voice gone soft and his drawl deepening. “He’s right, you know. He’s knows me very well, indeed. Mostly because we’re two of kind. Eben knows his way around most of the brothels on the eastern seaboard, and I’ve little doubt, a few in St. Louis.”

“That doesn’t mean a damned thing.”

“If you weren’t such a brick-headed fool, you’d know that this didn’t mean anything, either! The truth is that I heard the cry of a cat that raised the hair on my neck, and I came to see if Rafe was all right. When the lion leapt from the boulder, I knocked her to the ground and my cufflink got caught in her hair. That’s all there was to it.”

Not ready to let it go, Eben set Raven aside, and palmed his knife again, this time burying it in the sapling an inch from Tyler’s head. “Keep your distance, or you’ll regret it.” Then, he turned to confront Raven, and found that she was gone. In the distance, he could hear her sobbing, underscored by the snapping of twigs and rustling of leaves. She was running blindly away from him, and headed straight for the cliffs.