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“You will stay? While I eat?”

“Yes, I suppose I can. It’s a beautiful night. Not a cloud in the sky. All the stars will be out.”

“Do you wish to take one of your moonlit walks this evening?”

“Yes. I think I just might. It’s too lovely a night to waste.”

“Then I shall accompany you.”

Ella cocked her head to one side, and the look on her beautiful face troubled him. Would she refuse his suit?

But her eyes softened. “I would like that, Raven. Very much.”

He smiled, his loins surging, and sat down on the floor to eat his meal. The chicken had a pleasant flavor, but felt fatty in his mouth. He was used to game meat which had little fat and a tougher texture. This chicken had no doubt been raised by Ella’s mother here on their little farm. Still, the crispy coating was interesting and tasted of black pepper and…was it sage? Yes, sage. Tasty.

“Raven?”

He set his chicken on the napkin and reached for his tin cup of water. “Yes?”

“How does a man…”

She turned her head, and a lovely shade of pink crept up her neck. How he longed to press his lips there, to stroke his tongue along her smooth skin, to memorize every peak and valley of her body.

She cleared her throat. “What I mean is, how does a man court a woman, in your culture?”

Raven grinned, his skin warmed. This question was a good sign from the Spirit. “Many different ways. My father, Standing Elk, blew on a whistle shaped like an elk to court my mother.”

Her lips curved into a saucy grin. “Are you joking again?”

He smiled. “Not this time.”

“Why then? Because his name is Standing Elk?”

“Partly. But more to draw on the potency of the elk bull, which is very powerful, to woo his love.”

“And your mother? Did she…enjoy this ritual?”

“They became man and wife. Does that answer your question?”

“I suppose.” Her hands fidgeted in her lap.

Raven wanted to grab them, cover them with kisses, and then lead them to his erection that ached inside his buckskins.

He winked. “Would you like me to blow an elk whistle for you?”

That got a chuckle from her lovely lips. “Goodness, no.”

“What would please you then, tehila?”

“That’s a new word. You’ve used it a few times. What does it mean?”

“It means mate.” He leaned closer to her and inhaled her fresh floral scent. “Lover.”

“Oh, my.” Ella edged backward slightly.

“I mean it in a most affectionate way, Ella.”

“Yes. Of course. I understand. It just…goodness, it’s a warm night, isn’t it?”


Tags: Helen Hardt Daughters of the Prairie Romance