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MOMENTS LATER EBEN EMERGED FROM the

woods. His arms were full of broken, dry branches he had gathered from the forest floor. He arranged them in a small pile, then glanced at Raven to see how she was progressing with their meal. She was bending over the carcass, but instead of plying the blade, she was whispering in the animal’s unhearing ear.

“Now, what the hell are you doing?”

She ignored him, speaking softly. “Poor little doe, you have given your life so that we might eat.”

“For pity’s sake. I thought you said you were hungry. Here, give me the knife and I’ll make short work of it.”

“You snap and snarl about gagging me yet bluster about when it suits your mood. Perhaps you need the gag, m’sieur.” Her eyes brightened. “Indeed, I like that idea very much. I have suffered greatly because of your tongue!’

“You have suffered?” he asked in disbelief. “My character lies in shreds, victim to your own forked tongue and you say that you have suffered?” Able to think of nothing more suitable to say, he offered a disgusted snort.

“Forked tongue indeed,” Raven said, getting down to work. She talked as she split the hide down the inner hind legs to the hooves. “I have never lied to you.”

“A deception remains a deception, whether it was spoken or acted out.” Eben remained unconvinced. “You drugged an unwilling victim, thereby resorting to the most vile trickery.

And you, looking so innocent and sweet that night, for all the world the perfect ward, while plotting my demise. Too bad for you that I have such a hearty constitution.”

“Must you always exaggerate?”

He turned his frosty stare upon her and smiled a grim smile. “Mademoiselle, the headache with which I awoke defies description, let alone embellishment.”

“Well, I am sorry about making you ill, if it makes you feel any better,” she offered generously. “I didn’t mean to harm you, only give you a sound night’s rest so that I could slip away quietly.”

“Why?” he asked bluntly.

She raised her chin, her battered pride showing its rips and tears like some battle-worn gonfalon. “I had no other options. You were intent upon seeing me married off to the first man you came across.”

“I never said that.”

“Now who hands out untruths?” she asked.

“All right then, I never meant it. I only want to see you safely wed, but I would never force upon you any suitor you found distasteful.”

Eben frowned as he struck flint and steel to produce a tiny shower of sparks. Why must he always defend himself to her? Was it not enough that he was protecting her, feeding her, saving her from her own foolishness? Why did she always misconstrue every word he uttered. If he lived a thousand years he would never understand her.

“And what if I do not choose any suitor?” she asked. Even in light of her hunger, she could not help but bait him.

“Take my advice, wench, and do not be so choosy. With your temperament, you can’t afford to be.”

“I am not a ‘wench,’ as you so indelicately put it. And I don’t like being told what to do.” She stared sullenly into the first of the flames he was coaxing, and looked back upon her short-lived freedom, which in the light of Eben’s noxious company, she was seeing in a more golden light. She was not likely to taste independence again. He would not relax his guard, and in any event, there was nowhere for her to go. She was being forced to face the facts, as distasteful as they were. He was back to ordering her around again, deciding her future, and she was dependent upon his so-called “good nature” for her very existence.

He stirred the fire with a stick, the pale blue of his eyes picking up the orange glow. “Your father seemed like a good man, but he did you a disservice by allowing you to run so wild. It would have done you good to have had a thrashing every now and again.”

“Did your parents beat you, M’sieur St. Claire? You certainly hold great store by the practice.”

“When I needed it,” he answered softly. “My father laid his hand on my scrawny backside more than once before he died. He cared about what became of me. Children need correcting. Guidance.” For a long moment he was quiet, and when he continued it was in tones so low that Raven had to strain to hear him. “After that no one cared enough to beat me for what I did.”

“Then I am sorry for you,” Raven said.

Eben cleared his throat, “Save your pity, lass. It’s over and done with.” He had not meant to mention his past. Doing so only opened all the old wounds he thought had healed.

He picked up two chunks of meat and began to roast them. “The future is what’s important,” he said, warming to what was by now his favorite subject, Raven noticed. “Yours, especially. I feel sure that you can make a fine match, if you will just tame down a bit. A little wildness is sometimes advantageous, but not until the husband indicates he enjoys that sort of thing.”

Raven sighed. “I don’t think I can ever get used to being dictated to. It’s no wonder you don’t have a wife, m’sieur. You would treat her abominably.”

“Women are troublesome, and you, m’lady, are a fine example.”

“But if you do not marry, you will never have sons to beat.

Won’t that make you unhappy?”

Eben chuckled. “You do have a charming way of putting things. Yes, I suppose I will. I once wanted children very much. I had thought to rebuild my family. Unfortunately, the woman I chose was something less than virtuous. She had no

honor. After that, I no longer cared. Now I must admit it all seems rather foolish to me.”

“There is nothing foolish about wanting loved ones around you.” She eyed him critically across the fire. “You might make a passable father, provided you abandon the idea of beating the children. But you are rather advanced in age, so you’d better start soon.”

“I thank you for the advice, mademoiselle,” he said sarcastically. “And for the compliment, left-handed, though it might have been.”

“Are you insulted?” she asked, and Eben could see that she hoped that he was.

“Certainly not. And there is nothing so very ancient about the age of thirty-three. At nineteen, you yourself are nearly past marriageable age,” he reminded her.

She made a face at him. “Marriage! Is that all you think about?”

No, he thought, it was not all. But voicing the eventuality of her marriage to another man kept his desire at bay. It was going to be extremely difficult to do battle with her and with the fires she kindled in his blood. Just looking at her was enough to stir him, to make him wish that she wasn’t his ward. Her dowry was gone. All that she had left now was her virtue; he could not rob her of that as well. Even with her hair all tangled round her face and her cheeks smudged with dirt as they now were, she was breathtaking. In an effort to redirect his dangerous thoughts he turned his attention to the meat.

As ravenous as Raven was, she did not wolf down her food, but bit off small pieces and chewed them carefully, swallowing the juices first to allow her stomach to adjust to having food in it once again. It grumbled loudly for more, but she ate slowly, feeling her guardian’s pale gaze upon her all the while. There was a calculating light in his eyes, a look that made her nervous. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“I was just debating whether to tie you up tonight,” he said.

“Tie me!” she said, truly alarmed. “You wouldn’t!” This was one possibility she had never considered.

He stroked his jaw with a hard hand. “It’s obvious I cannot trust you, and I must sleep sometime.”

“Where have I to go, m’sieur? I have no one left to me.” “You had nowhere to go before, and no one to help you, but

it didn’t stop you from trying to flee,” he told her.

“Please, Eben.” She had not meant to plead, but there it was, out in the open and lying heavily between them. She saw his frown deepen and thought to further her cause. “I will lie close beside you so that you can hear me if I move. I would far rather suffer your closeness than to be bound.”

Eben had gone very still at her suggestion. His imagination raced ahead, and he could almost see her spooned into him, her soft little bottom pressed intimately against his aching loins. Lord, how she tempted him. “Very well, then. If you give me your word that you’ll not stray, I’ll trust you.” He motioned to the ground where she was sitting. “Go to sleep.”

He watched from slitted eyes as she immediately lay down and curled into a ball, much like a child would have. He shook his head and grumbled to himself. He’d barely spent three full days with her and already all he wanted to do was lay her down and love away her innocence.

He lay down not far away from her and pillowed his head on his arm. But it was a long time before sleep would come to him, and when at last it did, it was riddled with impassioned dreams of a certain raven-haired hellion.

RAVEN AWOKE BEFORE DAWN THE next day. She sat up and stretched, feeling rested, but very dirty. The fine grit that coated her skin and the tangles in her hair had not bothered her the night before, because she had been intent upon food and rest. But now the grime made her shudder. She cast a quick look at her companion and found him asleep. If she hurried, she could be bathed and dressed before he stirred. Silently she made her way to the river’s edge.

When Eben woke a few moments later he was alone. A swift glance around showed him that the girl was gone.

Thinking that she had broken her word he reached out to feel the place where she’d lain. There was still the barest trace of warmth; she couldn’t have gotten very far. He trotted down the path to the river, but came up short at the sight of her.

Raven was standing in the river, the water licking gently at her hips. Her lithe form was presented in profile to his hungry gaze, her round buttocks just slightly facing him, while he had a tantalizing view of one coral-tipped breast. The fitful sun broke through the morning haze, touching her skin with golden light, and Eben found himself burning with envy for those sunbeams. Oh, to be the one touching that satiny skin.

He knew he should turn and skulk away, but his body seemed to have gained a will of its own and stood rooted on the bank as he hungrily devoured the vision she made. He heard her humming softly beneath her breath, some lilting tune that caused his heartbeat to quicken. She wrung out her long hair and shook back the gleaming mass before turning slowly to face him.

If she was shocked to see him standing there, she did not show it. She only stood, meeting his gaze evenly, without embarrassment or shame. He had the odd feeling that she was waiting for something, perhaps to see what he would do. Then when he made no move to leave, she slowly emerged from the water.

“I’m sorry, lass. It wasn’t my—I didn’t mean to—” he stammered. “But for the life of me, when I awakened—”

She stopped just before him and stood looking up into his face. “You thought I had broken my word and gone,” she finished for him. “Your trust in me is nonexistent, m’sieur, while mine in you is seemingly—boundless.”

“I apologize,” he said, but he didn’t look away.

“It doesn’t matter. I am ready to begin, if you are.”

Eben shook his head. Surely he’d misheard her. “Say again?”

“The journey… to find this wonderful husband you insist is waiting for me.”

“Oh, aye, a husband.”

She looked at him, savoring his obvious discomfort. “Are you all right, Eben? You look a little flushed. Let me see if your skin is hot.” She reached out to lay her hand along his cheek and heard him groan. His longing was plain upon his face, and she was aware that she played a dangerous game. If she pushed him too far, he would take her, and she would then have no reason to find a husband.

Very slowly, as if swaying in a sensuous dance, she moved forward until she was standing at his side. “Perhaps this will cool you down!” Swift as lightning she placed her hands on his chest, pushing with all her might and at the same time hooking one bare foot behind his knee and kicking it forward. She laughed with delight as he landed with a tremendous splash. “Maybe that will teach you not to spy on me, m’sieur!”

He came up with hair streaming water and shook like a dog. “Damn it, woman, this time you’ve gone too far!” He started from the water, and Raven grabbed up her threadbare gown and took to her heels.

Raven flew along the path that led to the clearing, and only after she gained the open ground did she stop. Here, she could safely pause just long enough to dress, though the threadbare gown would be little protection enough from that rutting stag! She quickly found a small stand of trees, three or four clustered close together, that would provide a wall of sorts, to place at her back. From there she could watch the path for her pursuer, then flee again if need be. The dunking, though sorely deserved, had inflicted a wound to his hugely inflated pride, and it was quite within the keeping of his character to try and count a coup of his own. If, indeed, he could catch her!

The material of the gown was worn quite thin, and it wadded at her waist, refusing to slide easily over her still- damp skin. She struggled with it but could not right the thing without giving it her full attention. An impatient sigh escaped

her. She’d never been very good at waiting—and she cast one last glance down the path in the direction of the river.

There was no sign of Eben. Perhaps the water had served to cool more than his ardor, she thought, and he had decided to bathe. Her lips curved in a gleeful smile, and without further worry, she gave her full attention to the reluctant gown.

Somehow, the garment had twisted in back and after a moment’s work Raven managed to right it again. She settled the skirt in place and dragged one arm carefully through a sleeve, the other poised to do the same, when she was suddenly and without warning seized from behind.

Raven gave a startled scream and struggled in his grasp. Her skin was damp and slippery, as were her captor’s hands, and she managed to break loose and run several feet before a hard-hewn arm shot around her waist to drag her back. She was pulled roughly against his hard length and held imprisoned there. “Loosen your hold, damn you, I cannot breathe!”

“Did you really think that you could escape me?” Eben’s voice came low and rough beside her ear. “It’s becoming increasingly clear you don’t know who it is you’re dealing with—but maybe it’s high time you found out!”

“You can’t blame your clumsiness on me!” Raven flung back. “Besides, it was fair payment for your lascivious bent. I only thought to cool you down a little.”

“You don’t even know if I can swim,” he said. “You might have drowned me, you little harridan.”

“All right, you’ve seen me repentant, now let me go.” The look she gave him then was one of pure, unadulterated innocence, but there was devilment dancing in her dark eyes. Eben found himself warring again with his rising passions, but this time, he fought them down. He could release her now, and play the fool again at her small hands, or teach her a much- needed lesson in how young ladies should behave. His mind made up, he sat down on a fallen log and dragged her over his knee.

“You haven’t a repentant bone in your body,” he told her, “but soon you’ll repent your lack of wisdom loud and long, every time you sit!”

Raven struggled and clawed, hissed and spat, but he turned her on her belly over one hard muscled thigh, and swatted her painfully on the rump. His hands were hardened with calluses, and though moderately applied in comparison to his strength, the blows stung her tender flesh, even through her skirts. She tried to fend him off, twisting on his leg, but the wily beggar always managed to subdue her best attempt. Her already abused backside received yet another enthusiastic swat. “Do you know how much I hate you?” she cried.

“Do you think I care?” Swat!

Raven howled and cursed, calling him every name that came to her, and some she invented. This backwoods buffoon thought that he could chastise her, did he? Well, he deserved some punishment of his own! His left arm secured her while the right doled out the beating, but his shirtless torso was a reachable target. Raven twisted until she could grasp the blade that hung from his belt, slipping it from its sheath, and at the same time sinking her teeth into the tender flesh just below his rib cage. Her effort brought blood, and was rewarded with an enraged bellow and instant freedom, as he dumped her off his leg.

She bounced and rolled and scrambled away in a crouch to put a little distance between them. Through wary eyes she saw him twist and examine the bite, then his pale gaze settled on her with a chilling intensity. The Saints alone knew what he might do to her now. No matter how he threatened, she had to keep the knife! It gave her something to bargain with… something to hold him at bay.

“By the love of Christ, you test a man!” He took a hasty step forward. It was then he saw the knife. “And what do you think to do with that? Kill me?”

“Keep your distance, Eben. I don’t want to hurt you, but my poor backside cannot abide much more of your fondling.”

“You got what you had coming to you, no more,” he told her. He seemed to calm a little and relaxed where he stood, resting a hand on one hip, but Raven wasn’t fooled, for the cold never left his eyes. “A pretty maneuver, for one so helpless and in need of protecting.”

“As you said, ‘you got what you deserved’.”

“I’ve had enough of this.” He held out his hand then, deliberately advancing a step. “Give me the knife, lass.”

“Keep your distance!” she warned. “I think I will keep it for now. I certainly need it more than you. The woods are full of wolves, m’sieur.” And from the way her glance raked him she left little doubt what she meant.

He laughed low and without mirth. “Raven, you’ve much to learn about men. If I had truly wanted you just now, nothing short of hell itself would have prevented me from it.”

“All the more reason to keep the knife.”

He advanced again, intending to have his weapon back.

Having carried it these many years, he felt a little naked without it. Further adding to his disgruntlement, the girl had obviously determined to turn this little battle of theirs into a full-blown siege. “Be careful with that,” he told her. “It’s recently honed, and will cut to the bone with little effort.”

“I think you brag, but still,” she said, “there’s no need to test its edge upon your stubborn hide. Move back and give me ground, or I shan’t be responsible if you harm yourself.”

“You must be daft,” Eben ground out, “to think that I could close my eyes at night, knowing that you have my knife! I’ll have it back, goddamn it, right now!”

Eben’s temper had been tested sorely in the space of the few days he’d known her, and now tore loose of its normal restraints and plunged him beyond all caution. He stalked her steadily, alert for any opening in which to wrest the blade away.

Raven stepped back, her heart fluttering in her throat like a frightened bird. “Are you crazed?” she screamed at him. “Stay away!”

“You willful little shit!” He lunged at her and with a cry of alarm Raven brought the blade arcing up. Had it not been for her own leap back, she might have killed him. As it was, the blade bit deep, plowing a deep furrow in his right forearm from elbow halfway to wrist. He cursed and shook the smarting limb, sending spatters of bright blood flying; the glare he sent her way cutting just as surely to the quick. “Raven, for pity’s sake—will you give me the knife?”

Raven swallowed hard. She could stand and hold him off until he bled his strength away, or quickly strive to strike a deal. “You will seek revenge if I do.”

“I will not,” he insisted. “It’s over. I won’t touch you again in anger. For once, just do as I ask, without argument.” He gritted his teeth as blood flowed unchecked down his arm, dripping off his fingers. “Please.”

“Your stubbornness will be your undoing,” she muttered. “The knife, Raven.”

She would not hand it to him, but grudgingly comprised by tossing it into the tall grass at her side. She wasted no time in putting the small clearing between them. That way, if he changed his mind and decided to retaliate, she would at least have the chance to flee. But it didn’t happen, and he seemed to forget her presence momentarily, and after a cursory search, replaced the blade in its sheath and sat down to bind his wound.

“You should cleanse it first, you know,” she said, watching his clumsy efforts at staunching the crimson flow, and feeling suddenly guilt-ridden. She’d hurt him badly, and there was just something about an animal in pain—no matter how obnoxious. “I could do it for you.”

“I’ll manage,” he said. “Thanks all the same. I’ve grown rather fond of this arm over the years, and I’d like to keep it.”

“Eben, don’t be foolish. The blade was unclean.”

“Save your concern,” he said a little tersely. “I’m fine—and I would just as soon you kept your distance from me.”

“Very well, then,” she said softly, and the guilt she’d been feeling bit deep. He really wasn’t so bad—once she’d gotten used to him—except for the paddling. And she hadn’t meant to hurt him—not really. “Just don’t blame me if you sicken.” The rest of the thought went unspoken. No matter how he infuriated her, to think of his demise brought on a strange unfathomable emptiness. She pushed the thought away. He was right. He had the constitution of an ox. What could possible befall him?