Raven glanced up. “For what?”
“For bringing me with you.”
His eyebrows rose. “You’re thanking me? I just nearly drowned you.”
“I know. But if I’d never come with you, I’d never have felt as alive as I do now. Back in England, it was always like I was half asleep. Like I was just going through the motions of my life, waiting for something to happen. And now it has. So thank you.”
He chuckled. “You’re welcome.”
By the time the warmth leeched out of the sky and the sun dipped behind the mountains Heloise had lost all hope of a hot bath, soft pillows, and a down-filled comforter. Her gloomy predictions were confirmed when Raven gestured to a ramshackle building on the crest of a distant hill.
“Here we are.”
Heloise groaned as they rode into the deserted yard. The farmhouse itself was a burnt-out shell, nothing but four crumbling walls and some smoke-blackened rafters. Raven strode to inspect a small stone building on one side that, mercifully, still appeared to have an intact roof.
“Welcome to Hotel Ravenwood,” he said cheerfully. “I saw a well around the side. I’m going for a wash. Make yourself at home.”
Heloise watched in numb disbelief as he disappeared off around the side of the house, whistling softly. Sleeping in a barn was rather biblical, but she didn’t feel particularly holy; she felt filthy, sore, and so bone-weary she didn’t care if they slept in a ditch. She dismounted and hobbled over to peer through the open door, praying there were no animal inhabitants.
The barn had exposed rafters and a half loft above. Light filtered in through a few holes in the roof and pigeons cooed softly in the eaves. A few scrawny chickens fussed and pecked around, scratching in the dirt. The sweet, pleasant smell of hay filled her nostrils and she wondered what miracle had spared this barn but destroyed the house. A fortuitous wind?
Raven reappeared, his hair damp and his shirt clinging to his chest. Heloise glared at him, envying his cleanliness but too tired to move any farther.
He nodded to the loft. “You can sleep up there.”
There was no ladder. Without warning he simply spanned her waist and hoisted her up. She didn’t even have time to gasp. The ease with which he lifted her was astonishing. Flustered, Heloise scrambled up then rolled onto her stomach and peered over the edge at him. “Where are you going to sleep?”
“Down here.” He pulled the pistols from his back and placed them to one side, but retained the knife strapped to his belt. He settled back on the pile of straw directly beneath her.
“Tell me you take your dagger off to sleep,” she said.
“No. It’s always a mistake to disarm completely.”
What a telling statement that was. Heloise was certain he was talking about more than physical weaponry. The man wore armor even when he was naked. Still, the idea of him watching over her with a dagger in his hand gave her an odd, primitive thrill. She shouldnotbe finding this attractive. It was barbaric. She did not hold with violence except as an absolute last resort. And yet her chest tightened uncomfortably.
“Swear you won’t murder me in my sleep?” she teased.
He shot her a dark look that curled her insides. “If I want to kill you I won’t bother waiting until you’re asleep to do it.”
“That’s hardly reassuring.”
He smiled. “All right. I promise if I everdodecide to kill you, I’ll give you fair warning. You’ll be awake. And armed. And facing me. How’s that?”
“That’s very generous.”
“Sarcasm is not an attractive trait, Miss Hampden,” he chided softly.
She rolled over onto her back and settled into the straw. “Good thing I don’t aspire to attract you, then, isn’t it?” she retorted, then ruined the effect with a yawn. He chuckled and her lips curved upward in an answering smile. He really was fun to tease.
Heloise awoke to daylight and a chicken pecking at her shirt. She lurched backward with a startled cry as the equally surprised bird darted away with a disapproving squawk. Since there was no hope of going back to sleep she crawled to the edge of the loft and looked down.
Raven was lying on his back on the straw, eyes closed, head propped against his saddlebag, arms folded over his chest, and feet crossed at the ankle. A shock of dark hair fell over his forehead. His breeches fitted to his hips like a second skin and his shirt was pulled tight over his arms. His jaw and chin were shadowed with the beginnings of a beard. He looked a perfect rogue, lounging there, and her heart rate quickened. Why did he have to be so damned attractive?
His eyes were closed but she didn’t make the mistake of thinking him vulnerable. He was like the guard dog Anubis, no doubt alert to the slightest sound. She wondered if he ever truly allowed himself to relax.
“Admiring my manly physique?” he said without opening his eyes.
Heloise jerked, caught in her shameless ogling. Blood rushed to her cheeks. Revenge was close at hand, however, in the form of a hapless chicken. She nudged it with her elbow. It half fell, half flew downward, squawking in indignation, and landed square on Raven’s chest in an explosion of feathers.