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RAVEN WOKE AT FIRST LIGHT as she nearly always did, and fumbled around in the deep shadows, rebuilding the fire and preparing a breakfast of porridge for her papa with some crisply fried bacon, and strong black coffee. He had slept through the night without waking her, a good sign, she thought, and this morning he was likely to be feeling stronger because of it.

The cot lay in the deepest, darkest corner, where the glow from the hearth did not reach. She could see the quilts were rumpled. In sleep, he must have turned toward the wall.

Another good sign, surely. But when the breakfast was finished and cooling on the table and she inched closer to his bed, she saw she’d been mistaken. The quilts were rumpled, but her papa was gone. Heart suddenly in her throat, she flew to the door and nearly ran into Eben St. Claire as he entered, brushing the dirt from his hands.

A single glance at her stricken expression, and Eben knew he’d screwed up royally.

“Where?” was all she could seem to manage to squeak out.

Eben braced himself for a barrage of tears. Crying women made him want to crawl out of his own skin. He never seemed to have the right words at his disposal, and there was no way to tell what action was best to take. If a man gave them space to cry it out, they blamed him for being callous. If he attempted to hold them until the storm was over, and the moment’s intimacy led to something physical, then he was taking advantage of their vulnerability. Women were a mystery, a quandary, perplexing and endlessly frustrating.

Raven was proving doubly so, and really did not like him very much. “He is gone, lass. I dug his grave and lay his body in it. It’s a restful location, under the shelter of the big tree to the left of the dooryard. I’m sure he’ll rest peacefully there.”

“You put my papa in the ground?” she said. “Without consulting me? As if his burial did not concern me, his only daughter, in the least bit?”

“I did take you into consideration, and I thought it the best thing for all concerned. Henry set a great store by you, and he would not have wanted you to see him like that.”

Her brown eyes filled with liquid pain, overflowing to course down her cheeks. Eben felt something tighten in his guts, and the dread welled up inside of him, crowding his lungs, squeezing his heart.

“What would you know of it?” she said. “You only came here yesterday! You did not know him, and could not possibly know what he would have wanted, for himself, or for me.”

Eben frowned. His face went hot, and he didn’t know what to do with his hands. “All true, perhaps, but with his last hours he went to great lengths to protect you. Knowing that, it seemed he would have wanted you shielded from the unpleasantness of his passing.” He cleared his throat and began anew. “I’ve looked upon the faces of those dear to me and witnessed the ravages that vermin and open air bring upon those passed beyond this life. I have not much stomach for such sights myself, but if you are so outraged at my actions, then come. I will open his grave for you, so that you can look upon what is best left covered.”

She did not take him up on his offer, but covered her face with her hands and wept as if her heart were breaking. “Have you no decency? Can you not even give me the opportunity to say goodbye?”

Feeling shamefaced and hating it, Eben shifted his stance and tried again. “You can, still—say good-bye. Of course, you can. I would not be so cruel as to keep you from it. I—”

“Oh, just shut up!” she said, pushing past him into the dooryard.

Watching helplessly, Eben saw her stumble to the freshly turned mound where she fell to her knees and wept like the child she surely was. After a long while, she sat up, wrapping her arms around her upraised knees while she talked to poor dead and now buried Henry.

Without asking permission to do so, mostly because she would have railed at him again no matter what, he took it upon himself to cut and notch two branches, binding them together to form a cross. Finding a rock of a useful size, he pounded the marker into the earth at Henry’s head while she placed a sizeable bouquet of pure white daisies on the grave.

When he finished, he turned and left her without a word. He led the horses outside, tying their reins off, but providing them plenty of space to crop grass as they wished.

Back in the cabin, he filled a basin and washed his hands and face. When she finally found her way to the cabin, he sat at the table with a small bowl of porridge, a rasher of bacon and a cup of coffee. He ate methodically, thoughtfully, silently.

Raven pulled out a chair and sank down. Tears still flowed intermittently, and her face was blotched about her nose and full upper lip. Her lashes were starry and wet, and it was easy to see she was miserable.

Eben knew the strong urge to take her in his arms and do his best to kiss away her tears, but he wasn’t fool enough to give in to the impulse again. Leave her he would, and it would be best if the break were clean. If she found her way into his arms again, he might not be able to restrain himself. Last night had been hard enough. And so, he crushed the wild impulse and hardened his voice. “Ready yourself, for we leave here at first light. If you must grieve, then do so today. I want no sniveling when we are on the trail.”

With that, he got up and stalked out. Raven watched him with narrowed eyes, hating him right down to his marrow. How could he be so callous in the face of such devastating loss? Her beloved Papa was gone, and she was alone with this beast of a man.

Her dire situation settled in upon her like a thousand-pound weight, cold and crushing. Panic crowded her chest, and her breath quickened. She’d grown to cherish the freedom Henri had lavished upon her, but she would not have that luxury in Eben St. Claire’s company. He would make every decision without the smallest consideration for her feelings, wishes or

desires. He would order her about and treat her like a child, laughing at her attempts at defiance, threatening, bullying her into submission.

Had it not already begun?

His words came soaring back to beat at her with frenzied wings. “If you must grieve, then do so today. I want no sniveling when we’re on the trail.”

Indeed, he would want to be on his way quickly. The sooner they reached this place, Pittsburgh, the sooner he would be rid of her. All of his prattling about finding her a worthy husband had found fertile ground, and Raven knew without a doubt he meant every word that he said. He would pawn her off on the first man that he found remotely suitable, whether she consented or not.

Unless she could find a way to escape from him. But how? He was watchful, and in his prime, physically. If she managed to get away, he would likely come after her, and swiftly drag her back. Unless there was a way to achieve a small head start. She could find a place to hide until he gave up searching and went away, then, when it was safe, she could come back home. It was not what Papa had wanted, but he would surely understand this last act of defiance now that he was back with her mother, the great love of his life.

Throughout the afternoon, Raven busied herself by gathering her things together, and going through her papa’s small brassbound trunk. It contained a few items of clothing, a broken timepiece, and some correspondence from a business associate in Quebec. It was as she lifted the last piece from the trunk that she found the green glass bottle. She removed the cork and sniffed the contents, recognizing its cloying, sweet odor.

Laudanum, the unexpected answer to her fevered prayers.

SUPPER WAS LONG PAST AND Eben was seated in the same straight-backed chair at the table that he had occupied the night before. He had nothing much to do this evening and seemed intent upon closely observing her as she placed her belongings by the door. “Well, I’m glad to see that you’ve

come to your senses,” he said, nearly causing her to jump out of her skin.

Raven straightened and shot him a questioning look, steeling herself not to flush guiltily. “I don’t know how you mean, m’sieur. I never abandoned my senses.”

“The belongings you’ve chosen to take along are few, which saves me the unpleasant task of sorting through them and discarding anything that is unnecessary. You can buy what you need in Pittsburgh.”

“Truly?” Raven said carefully.

“Oh, hell, lass. Forget what you’ve heard about the place.

It’s not a wilderness anymore. There are places where fine apparel can be purchased, frilly things delicate enough to earn a place next to skin as soft yours. You’ll be the envy of the entire female population, and the bane of many a young swain’s existence. Suitors will be lined up outside your door in no time.”

Raven glared at him. “Whatever this place is you are dragging me to, I doubt I will like it. And, as for these swains you prattle about, I confess a fondness for pretty things, but not to please some foolish man.”

He chuckled softly to himself. “Please them you will, my lovely, but you will choose only one.”

“Now, you are allowing me to choose? I thought you might sell me to the highest bidder since your lust for coin is so great.”

That made him frown. “You intentionally misconstrue my efforts on your behalf. My need for money is no greater than that of any man. I take payment for services rendered, that’s all. And if I may remind you, it was Henry who set the price, not me.”

She shrugged and turned away. “I do not wish to argue with you.”

“Ha! Now, there’s a first!” he shot back, getting a rise from her when she would have left it alone.

“You have a very low opinion of women in general, m’sieur.”

“Not all women. Just those I’ve had the misfortune to have dealings with.” He met her gaze, and his pale blue eyes gleamed in his tanned face. “With very few exceptions, I have found women to be calculating and cold—wholly untrustworthy. A man who’s stupid enough to devote his life to a woman will end up regretting it.”

For a moment silence descended, and neither of them seemed willing to break it. After a while, Raven set Henri’s demijohn of brandy on the table, along with two metal cups. “Perhaps you’d like some brandy?” she offered. “With such a long journey ahead of you, you’ll need a good night’s rest.”

He smiled at the prospect and seemed to relax. “I believe I will, lass. My thanks. You’ll join me?”

“A little with water, yes. Papa always said it helped the digestion.”

She filled his cup—the one containing the laudanum—to the brim and splashed a small amount into hers. She took it to him and stood smiling down at him.

Eben’s gaze gently touched her face. No one could match her graceful walk, her elegance, her dark and fiery beauty. He saw that curving little smile and was so thoroughly charmed that he never noticed the softness failed to reach her eyes.

Accepting the cup, he deliberately closed his fingers over hers, grinning when she snatched them away as if she’d been scalded.

“To your health, m’sieur,” she said, raising her cup.

“To your future, lass,” he said generously. “May your life be long and fruitful, your babes many, and your man well- endowed and eager to please.”

He drank deeply, still watching her like a cat watching a mouse hole. His cup was drained, and she poured it full again, fearing she had not given him enough of the opiate to affect his rock-hard constitution. She made an excuse to step outside to relieve herself, and when she came back in, she found him

passed out in his chair, his cheek resting on the hard surface of the table. She crossed to his chair and put a hand on his shoulder. “M’sieur? Eben?” She shook him gently, but he didn’t rouse, or even move a muscle. “You might have picked a more comfortable spot,” she told him. “You’ll wake with a crick in your back from sleeping here.”

One last look, and she turned away. It was amazing, how light-hearted she suddenly felt. She hurried to gather her possessions—just a small bundle of clothing and a parcel of food to carry her through the next few days—and her father’s fortune which she put in Eben’s saddlebags.

She would require one of his horses. Pierre, the ancient nag that had served them these many years was so arthritic he could barely urge his bones to a walk. She patted his head as she passed him. Her former guardian could sell him or turn him loose to forage. He was far too slow to aid her in her escape.

She would have liked to take the mare, but her injury had yet to heal completely, and leaving her behind would slow her owner’s pursuit, should he decide to bring her back. She didn’t like to think that he would come after her, but the man was very stubborn, so it remained a distinct possibility.

In a moment, she had her old saddle secured upon the back of the wiry stallion, along with the saddlebags and her possessions. Under the light of a full moon rising, she led the animal from the barn, closed the door, and rode away.

Eben had admitted that she had been thrust upon him. That she was only a burden, more weight to carry, a millstone around his neck. He would doubtless be grateful to God when he woke and found her gone.

AN INFERNO-LIKE HEAT SEEMED TO surround Eben.

Not fully awake, he was convinced he’d changed places with old James St. Claire. It was a strange notion, since he’d done nothing so bad as to earn a hangman’s noose, yet his head was lying on something so hard that his cheek had gone numb, and his neck felt like it was about to snap. When he tried to

straighten out the kinks, pain stabbed through him, accompanied by a nausea unlike any he’d ever known.

Violent and immediate, it brought him upright with a jolt. In a second, he found his feet and shot from his chair, barely reaching the dooryard before the retching began.

Twenty minutes later, with the poison gone from his system, he felt halfway human again. His headache had subsided from a threatening implosion to a dull throbbing behind his eyes—a vast improvement. Slowly, the thick fog that shrouded his brain and kept him from thinking began to dissipate.

Leaning against the cabin wall, he wondered how he could have become so incapacitated from just the cup of brandy Raven had given him. “Raven?” he called out, loudly enough to bring the top of his head off. Or so it seemed. In reality, it was barely more than a hoarse croak. “Raven? Lass? Where the hell have you gotten to?”

She was nowhere to be seen, so he went back inside to have a closer look around. On the table, he found the few coins she’d left for him, the brandy, and a suspicious looking apothecary’s bottle. He pulled the cork and held it to his nose. His stomach immediately recoiled. “Laudanum? Goddamn the little shit, and goddamn me for the damn fool who was beginning to trust her. I lower my guard, and she tries to murder me to keep old Henry’s gold.”

He forgot his pounding head and dogtrotted to the barn.

Cadence turned her head to eye him curiously. She pawed the dirt floor, impatient with her confinement. Willow, the ornery, half-broke stud was gone.

“If the chit thinks to get away clean, then she’s in for a hell of a surprise.” He bent to examine the mare’s injured leg. He liked what he saw. The swelling was gone, and the scrapes scabbed over. “Looks like she’s good for something after all. The leg is sound.” He led her from the barn and let her crop the tender green shoots in the cabin yard while he carefully examined the yard for sign. A few moments later, he stood by Henry’s grave. “Henry, you old fart, if there’s a damn bit of

justice in the afterlife, then you’re doing spins in your grave for pawning that snip of thievery and deception off on a good- natured man like me. I daresay, you knew exactly what you were doing, though, because I’m not the sort to quit. She left a trail a baby could follow, and I’ll find her soon enough. When I do, I’ll blister her ass like you should have done, had you not been half as indulgent.” He sighed and wiped the sweat from his brow with a hand. “I’d like to say it was a pleasure knowing you, but you’d recognize the lie, so I will leave you with a simple goodbye.”

He went to saddle Cadence, sheathed his rifle and his knife and took the mare’s reins, leading her from the clearing.

NIGHT CAME SWIFTLY TO THE forest. There was no brief interlude of peace and serenity come day’s end when the western sky was awash with color and the world settled down to await the coming of night. There was only a momentary deepening of an ever-present gloom, and finally, blackness altogether.

It was not the darkness that Raven minded. The Green Corn Moon would be rising in a few hours, and even here where the canopy overhead was heaviest, some small light would penetrate.

No, she didn’t mind the dark; it was the profound stillness that unnerved her. There was no noise, no discernible

movement, and the smallest nocturnal creature seemed to be waiting. But waiting for what?

Huddled on the ground with her cloak wrapped around her, she listened until her ears buzzed. The birds had ceased their gay twittering just before darkness descended, the squirrels their incessant scolding. Finally, after straining to hear, she thought she detected a subtle movement, but she had no clue as to what it was.

Nocturnal creatures slept the days away in their hidden lairs and hollow logs, the dark caves that remained a mystery to those who walked abroad in the daytime. When the curtain of darkness fell, they emerged to roam, and their furtive diggings and scurrying kept Raven awake most of the first part of night.

For a long while, she sat, wishing for the comfort and light of a fire. But where the flames might keep the larger predators at bay, they would also send a signal to the one who even now, might be searching for her.

Was he out there already? Watching her from the safety of the dark forest? Was he just waiting for the right time to sneak up on her, and take her prisoner?

She’d duped him, and he would be very angry. He was unlikely to be merciful or forgiving. She, after all, had wounded his pride and made him look like the village idiot. She remembered him warning her not to test him. There was no telling what petty revenge he would take upon her if she were caught, but there was little point in dwelling on it, as she had no intention of letting him find her.