0

STEAM ROSE AROUND EBEN’S GLEAMING bronze

shoulders, mingling with the fragrant smoke from the cheroot clamped between his teeth. A good long soak in water hot enough to steep tea had eased the ache from his bones and the strains from his muscles. He felt good. As spry as a spring foal, ready to kick up his heels and show his lady what her man was truly made of. She was going to be taken aback. She was going to be delighted. And everything, down to the smallest detail was going to go according to plan.

It would be an evening to remember. For both he and Raven.

He grabbed the towel from the back of a chair and stood, wrapping it around his middle, facing his reflection in the mirror. He’d never been one for self-admiration, but he had to admit, he approved of what he saw. Years of hard living had definitely left its mark on him. He had a few unsightly scars here and there, proof of his toughness and at times, his ill luck, but for the most part, life in the wilderness had suited him. His body was hard and well-defined muscles rippled under smooth, deeply tanned skin. At the age of thirty-three, he lacked the fat padding most men’s middles, and except for the deep lines etched at the outer corners of his eyes, he thought he looked not a day over twenty-eight—less, even, without the beard.

Narrowing his eyes, he focused on his face, turning his head to the side, and back again. She’d never seen him without it. What if she decided that she didn’t like what she saw?

“Hell,” he said. “You can always grow it back. Besides, it’s silly to set so much importance on what a woman thinks. It’ll sit you down smack-dab into a world of shit if you do.” Yet, for all of his bluster, he lathered his face, and worked the straight razor over a leather strop. When the blade had a keen edge, he shaved his face clean of whiskers, leaving only his mustache. When he checked the man in the glass again, he smiled. “Now, let someone mention the disparity in our ages,” he said, satisfied with the results of his toilet.

A few minutes later, a mightily transformed Eben made his leisurely way down the stairs. He checked his timepiece and slipped it back into the pocket of his wine-colored velvet coat. Raven would be down soon. His stomach constricted at the thought, and he wondered if it had something to do with the fact that he hadn’t eaten?

The common room had been transformed in the span of a few hours. The tables, chairs, and benches were stowed in an outbuilding for the evening, to make room for the reels. And evergreen boughs, cut from the woods and entwined with bright ribbon crowned the doorframes and lay thick on the deep windowsills. Everywhere, candles glimmered, and Eben knew that Zeb had spent a tidy sum just for the tapers to light the place for the evening.

He stepped off the last tread into the crowd, making his way to the sideboard and the liquid refreshments. Meg had made punch, concocted mostly of cider and spices, and heavily laced with brandy. Eben opted for something with a little more kick.

God damn, was he nervous.

Tyler skirted the throng, striking an easy stance at Eben’s side. “The children’s refreshments are over there,” he said, pointing to a much smaller table with glasses and punch bowl, cakes and pastries.

“Not funny,” Eben said.

“It wasn’t a joke,” Tyler told him. “Have you seen my old friend, St. Claire? Hoary fellow about your height, given to fighting and drinking and—”

“For Christ’s sake,” Eben grumbled, tossing back his drink with a flick of his wrist. “Can’t a man shave his face without the roof caving in on his head?”

“That depends on the man,” Tyler said with a wink. “Exactly how long has it been since your chin has seen the light of day? It’s just a shade paler than the rest of you.”

“That’ll change in a day or two.” His opinion of Tyler Lee changed for the better as he poured more whiskey for the two

of them. The man had always had a generous hand. Eben passed it under his nose, then took a swallow, savoring the fiery path it seared on its way to his belly.

“I take it this sudden attention to grooming has something to do with Mademoiselle Delacour?” The gleam in the Virginian’s green eyes when he spoke Raven’s name was hard to miss. Eben felt his hackles rise but chalked it up to the fact that he still stood on shaky ground where Raven was concerned. He was neither husband, nor betrothed, declared, or committed. And, despite her admitting that very morning that she loved him, she could still walk away if she wanted to.

Eben just glared at his friend and said nothing.

Tyler’s grin was irritating. “Just so you know, I intend to ask the lady to dance—more than once, if she’s willin’.”

“Find another diversion,” Eben said.

Tyler instantly sobered. “Is that what she is to you? A diversion?”

Eben’s gaze locked with Tyler’s. “Don’t twist my words around so you can impale me with them. Raven isn’t your concern, so keep your frigging distance. I won’t tell you again.”

Tyler Lee smiled an unpleasant smile. “You may warn me away all you please. I’d still like to know what your intentions are, where Rafe is concerned?”

Eben slowly turned to face him, and blood pounded in his temples. “Did I not just ask you to mind your own business?”

“It wasn’t a request. It was a command. And pardon me, but I don’t see a ring on the lady’s finger. Because we have a long- standing friendship, I’ll give you fair warning: if you don’t step up, I might. I have to admit, where she is concerned, I very much like what I see.”

He took his whiskey, walking away from Eben, a smile still gracing his handsome face. Eben tossed back the last of his drink and scowled at the bottom of his empty glass. Suddenly, the outcome of his evening wasn’t as certain.

“I’VE NEVER BEEN SO NERVOUS,” Raven admitted. “I’ve dreamt of something like this, but I never imagined it would actually come true.”

Meg finished fastening the last of the hooks that closed the back of her gown. “Well, you’ve led a sheltered life way out there in the territories. Now, you’re part of a community, and celebrations are a part of that.” She smiled at Raven in the mirror. “My, oh, my. Just take a look at you!”

Raven stroked the velvet’s nap with reverent fingers, the light in her brown eyes gone soft and loving. “It’s pretty, isn’t it?”

“You’re pretty, lass,” Meg corrected. “I can’t wait to see the look on Eben’s face when he sees you in this.” The strains of a lone violin drifted up the stairs to fill the hallway. “It’s going to be a memorable evening. I can feel it in my bones.” Giving in to impulse, she kissed Raven’s cheek. “Are you ready?”

Raven nodded. “I just hope I don’t get sick.”

“Deep breaths, child. It’s going to be fine. I promise.”

Raven paused for one last look in the mirror, and at the deep blood-red velvet, with its small cap sleeves. Ellen Miller had fashioned roses from the same beautiful fabric and fastened them to the gown. They cascaded over one shoulder and onto the low-cut bodice. Pregnancy had brought a new fullness to her breasts, and her cleavage was daringly displayed, while the graceful, draping skirt artfully concealed her condition. She turned, and the hem of the gown trailed out after her, longer in the back than the front. With her hair piled high on her head, and a scarlet ribbon woven through the dark strands and trailing down in back, she didn’t look at all herself.

Without further pause, she walked through the door Meg held for her, and out into the hallway. At the top of the staircase, she stopped, peering down at the crowd below.

There must have been fifty people in view, young, old, and in- between—most of whom she didn’t recognize. But where was Eben?

“Are you sure he’s there, Meg?” she asked, nerves getting hold of her again. “I don’t see him.”

Her bright gaze swept the throng again, finally coming to rest on a fair-haired man at the foot of the stairs, one shining Hessian boot planted on the first tread, for all the world as if he’d mount the stairs to fetch her if she did not join him directly.

Raven’s breath caught in her throat. The beloved blue eyes gazing intently into hers were the very ones that had watched her as she made love to him on the cliffs, but the rest of him was different, and the change was a little startling.

Each stroke of the razor had shaved away a year from his appearance, and he looked a great deal younger than his thirty- three years. Surely the handsome rogue regarding her warmly from the bottom of the stairs was not the same rugged frontiersman who had bellowed up drunkenly at her in Pittsburgh, the same determined lover who’d scaled the porch roof at Sally’s and climbed through her window, just to be with her. The Eben who awaited her descent looked every inch the gentleman. His wine-colored coat, black trousers and pristine shirt and stock fit his long, lean form to perfection, and his hair had been quite recently cut.

The heat in his gaze was the same as it had been that morning on the grassy promontory, high above the river valley. Raven’s heart beat faster as she took the rail and started down.

Behind Eben stood Tyler Lee Jackson, a grin on his handsome face, and his green eyes dancing with devilish delight. She couldn’t help returning his smile, if just for a moment.

“Mademoiselle Delacour,” Eben said, taking her hand in his larger one and bowing low over it. “You outshine the sun.” Straightening, he took a step closer so that her vermillion skirts brushed the toes of his boots. He caught her staring, and asked, “You have a look of expectancy on your pretty face. Is something amiss?”

“Actually, I was hoping to see someone else here this evening,” Raven said. “A friend of my papa’s, and my

protector. We traveled together for a time. He was quite a rough individual, but gentle and giving as well. I grew very fond of him. Do you know what has become of him?”

He laid a dark hand on the breast of his shirt. “Would you rather he was here instead of me?”

“That’s was not what I said,” Raven countered. “But it is a startling change.”

He smiled, and the expression carved two deep dimples in his cheeks. “Do you like it, sweet? Or shall I grow it back?”

“You’re very handsome, Eben, but I liked the rougher version also. I hope he is not gone for good.”

He lifted her hand and kissed it. “I imagine you will catch a glimpse of him from time to time.”

Raven was about to reply when Tyler Lee stepped between them, shouldering Eben aside. He took her hand and bowed elegantly, but instead of brushing a chaste kiss on her knuckles, he kissed the delicate, sensitive skin on the inside of her wrist. She felt the warm, rough caress of his tongue and gasped, her eyes widening. “Rafe, you are breathtaking.”

“M’sieur Jackson,” she replied carefully. Eben watched the exchange with lowered brows. If she gave any hint that he’d been even mildly inappropriate, there might be bloodshed. She would have pulled her hand away, except that he held it firmly between the two of his.

“As one outsider to another, I was hoping you would dance with me. Alas, I have no partner, and my old friend, St. Claire doesn’t mind.”

“Oh, but St. Claire does mind.” Eben extracted her hand from Tyler’s grasp and tucked it carefully into the crook of his arm. “Sweet? Will you honor me?”

“I will, indeed,” Raven said, laughing as he swept her into a lively country-dance. All around them, couples twirled, some of the gentlemen stepping high to the strains of the violin, their faces flushed with exertion and drink. Raven’s admiring gaze kept straying to Eben’s face. His skin looked soft and smooth, and she had to resist the urge to reach up and touch him.

“Yes, it’s really me,” he said, amused by her fascination.

“I feel the need to pinch myself,” she admitted. “What brought about this sudden change?” Her hand strayed to the collar of his coat and the golden strands that curled there, soft as silk. Would their son or daughter be born with hair like his?

“Change isn’t always bad. It can sometimes be positive.

Like the change in our relationship. At first we didn’t get on at all, and then gradually, we came to admire one another, and now we suit well together.”

“We do, for the most part,” she agreed. “Except of course when you vex me.”

“It’s something we need to discuss at length, Raven—you and I—only regrettably it will have to wait, since I see that smooth-talking jackass making his way over to claim you. I should have sent him packing the day he arrived instead of encouraging him to stay. If he ruins this evening, I may have to kill him.”

“You’ll do no such thing,” Raven said. “Besides, I rather like him.”

The Virginian did indeed stop beside them, exactly as Eben predicted. “Did this clumsy oaf smash your toes, Rafe? Or did you manage to emerge unscathed?”

“Oh, but he is not clumsy at all, m’sieur!”

“In a moment, when you have something refined to compare it to, you will realize his embrace is bearlike, his steps ungainly and ill-timed, his conversation unskilled, and his personality completely uncouth.”

“Bearlike?” Raven questioned, dimpling at him. “Why, no, m’sieur. Not at all.”

Eben was fast losing his patience. He tried very hard to be gracious, but as Tyler Lee put his hands at Raven’s waist, he wanted to rip his arms off and bludgeon him with them. He’d barely had a moment with her, and never a moment of privacy in which to settle matters between them. He stood a while with his legs braced, his arms crossed over his chest and watched them dance. The music went on and on, and on, endlessly, and

he suspected the Virginian had bribed the musicians to play a double measure.

His spirits, so high a few minutes ago, deflated. He should not have allowed the man to get near her. Returning to the sideboard, he refilled his glass, and just as quickly, drained it. The whiskey slid down easily enough this time, exploding in his stomach like a fireball. The judge walked to where Eben stood, and eyed him speculatively. “Take it easy with the whiskey,” he said. “I want no trouble here this evening.”

Eben raised his glass belligerently. “You might want to tell him that.” And his narrowing gaze never left the striking dark- haired pair that twirled gracefully past.

“So, that’s why you look fit to throttle someone. The girl has found herself a suitor.” Zeb watched the couple glide around the dance floor, then his hard gaze again settled on Eben. “And precisely why does that aggravate you? He comes from good stock. He’s landed, with money, and he can take proper care of her.”

“You don’t know him as well as you seem to think,” Eben assured him. Zeb’s apparent glee at the prospect of a match between Raven and Tyler rubbed him raw. Good stock… landed…with money…. Those were things he could not take for granted. Qualities he couldn’t achieve, because he hadn’t been born to quality folk. He’d come from nothing and he’d worked hard for what he had. Why the hell couldn’t that count for something?

Why the hell couldn’t this stiff old man look at him just once in his life and see something worthwhile? Why did he always have to glare at him as though he smelled something rotten? He might not have wealth to compare to Tyler Lee’s, but he had an account in a St. Louis bank on which he could draw, and he had a strong back and a willingness to work that Tyler didn’t have. Good, honest work. There was no shame in that. Yet, Zeb thought Tyler the wiser choice for Raven.

Why?

Eben knew why.

Because of Ivory. There had been a time when the old man had approved of him, when he’d welcomed the notion that

Eben would marry his only child. But it hadn’t happened. And Eben hadn’t stayed beyond that last night to try and explain. The wound had been fresh and deep, and it would have served nothing to tell Zeb the truth about her. Yet, here he was, years later, still resenting Eben for jilting his offspring, still judging him as fatally flawed in character and morals. Insinuating that he was not good enough for Raven.

But Raven wasn’t Ivory.

He could take care of Raven. He would make her happy— given the chance. If only everyone else would just get the hell out of his way. Realizing suddenly that he’d forgotten the very thing that might help him to resolve the impasse he found himself in, he skirted the dancers, heading for the stairs at a determined clip.

He was taking the treads two at a time when Meg appeared at his elbow. She was dressed in a simple gown of bright green broadcloth that was very flattering. The bright color made her mass of freckles fade and brought out the rose in her cheeks. “Oh, thank God,” she said. “I’ve been looking for you all afternoon.”

“I had business in the village.”

“At least, you’re here now, and I need to have a word with you.”

“Can it wait? There’s something I must do, and it must be done immediately. This blasted mess has gone on long enough.” They’d reached the upstairs hallway, and she nearly had to run to keep up with his long-legged strides. Still, he didn’t slow his pace. Tyler had mentioned there not being a ring on Raven’s finger, and that, at least, was one thing he could remedy.

“It can’t wait, Eben,” Meg said harshly. “You need to know before Zeb makes his bloody announcement. I don’t want you taken by surprise.”

Eben stopped with his hand on the doorknob to his chamber. “What announcement?”

“She’s here,” she said flatly. “Ivory’s here with her fat politician husband.”

“That’s Zeb’s problem, not mine.”

Meg looked at him as if he’d just declared that he could sprout wings and fly. “Did you hear what I said?”

“I heard. Now ask me if I give a damn.” Eben took a breath and tried again. He understood her concern. He just didn’t share it. All of his attention, his desires, his plans hinged on Raven, and there was no room for anyone else in his thoughts at that moment. “You have to let it go, Meg. I have.”

“You may have let it go,” Meg said, “but I can guarantee you that she hasn’t. Eben, she hasn’t come to see that old man downstairs in two years. Why do you suppose she’s shown up now?”

He opened the door and dug in a dresser drawer until he found what he was looking for—a small box, just big enough to house a plain gold band. “It doesn’t matter what she wants, or why she’s here. Besides, that southern asshole down there is a bigger threat to my future than Ivory ever was.” He touched Meg’s face, dropped a kiss on her cheek. “Thanks for the warning, but don’t let her ruin your evening.”

Eben went out, and Meg stood staring at the door. “You may have forgotten her, you idiot man, but she hasn’t forgotten you. And she’s here to make trouble. I’d bet my life on it.”

The music, the chatter, the rising heat from the candles and the press of bodies combined with the whiskey to make Eben’s head spin. Thoughts flitted through his busy brain.

What if she turned him down? Turned him aside? Decided she didn’t love him after all? Didn’t want a life with him?

What if she wanted more than he could give her? Wealth? Fine manners? Culture? A lineage to be proud of?

It could happen, and the niggling doubt was growing larger as he paused on the first landing and caught a glimpse of Raven laughing at something the Virginian said. He clutched

the jeweler’s box in his palm, hard enough to crush it, then jammed it deep into his coat pocket for safekeeping. Jealousy rising, insecurities like he’d never known looming up to mock his best intentions, he dove for the entrance and cool, bracing autumn air.

Outside, he walked from the porch, down the steps and onto the lawn. Oak trees towered overhead, their russet leaves rattling in the chilly night breeze. Leaning against the rough- barked bole of an ancient red oak, he forced air deep into his lungs, then out again. A few breaths, and he was calmer, though no less uncertain what the outcome of his evening would be.

“She’s very pretty and very young, Eben. Exactly as Daddy described her.”

Eben turned toward the voice, and watched as his past strolled out of the shadows. She hadn’t changed. She was still beautiful, still unmarked by time, her figure just as lithe as it had been before her marriage. She watched him from those slanted green eyes, so exotic and feline, and he imagined a pampered cat licking cream from its whiskers. “Mrs.

Wharton,” he said. “Where is your husband?” “Patrick is inside, meeting with his constituents.”

“And you are skulking in the shadows like a spider, waiting for some unsuspecting victim to pass by so you can inject him with your poison?”

Her red lips curved in a delighted smile. “What a lovely comparison. But why would I need poison when I have the truth?” She walked to where he stood, pausing a few inches away, close enough for him to feel her body heat, to smell her perfume. “She looks good in his arms, don’t you think? Like they were made for one another? Like we did, once?”

“There was nothing good about us,” Eben said flatly. “And as far as Raven is concerned, you’ll stay out of it.”

“Or you’ll what?” she taunted, head tilted back, vein in her fine white neck throbbing… as if she were daring him to close his hands around it and squeeze.

“I’ll walk away from you,” he said. “As I should have done the very first time.” He turned back toward the house, telling himself that she had no effect on him whatsoever, that he was immune to her poison, but the truth was that even then it was working its way through his system, aiming at his vulnerable heart.