They traveled all day, through winding passes and verdant valleys. She caught sight of Raven a few times, up ahead, but he didn’t approach her. When he didn’t reappear that evening, she ate some rice-filled soup, tried to teach Rafael how to write his own name, and excused herself as soon as it got dark.
So, the bloody man had decided to ignore her, had he? Fine. Two could play at that game.
Chapter 37
Raven knelt by the stream and splashed cold water on his face. He’d slept beneath Heloise’s caravan but left long before she woke. He’d avoided her all day yesterday, hadn’t trusted himself to go near her. It had been almost impossible to pretend a distance he didn’t want, to feign an indifference he didn’t feel. But he was a master at camouflaging his emotions.
He ought to be regretting what they’d done, but it had felt so right it was scary, like suddenly putting his shoes on the right feet after six years of wearing them wrong. He ran a hand over the back of his neck. He’d known it would be good, despite her inexperience, but he’d been shaken by exactlyhowgood. What she’d lacked in knowledge she’d made up for in enthusiasm.
Every time he looked at her his mind flooded with erotic images. He kept seeing the tiny perfection of her body under his, her lips parted in an artless gasp of pleasure as he sank into her. Her cheeks flushed with passion, her lips swollen and rosy from his too-hard kisses. His fingers twitched, recalling the satiny feel of her pale skin; the closest thing to heaven a sinner like him would ever experience.
He’d stayed awake for hours after she’d fallen into an exhausted asleep, assaulted by a whole host of unfamiliar emotions. The feel of her warm, naked body curled around his filled him with such a sense of perfect belonging that it was terrifying. He’d never once spent the night with a woman. Never wanted to, after the sex was done. But with Heloise he’d savored the rightness of holding her in his arms. He’d gazed up at the painted stars and wished that time would stop. That he could deny the inevitability of the coming dawn and simply stay in that moment, perfectly at peace. But every heartbeat, every breath, was one closer to the moment he’d have to leave her.
A profound and hopeless yearning had twisted his gut as he’d tried to imprint the image of her lying next to him into his mind forever. He’d reached out and pushed a stray tendril of hair from her cheek and discovered, to his amusement, that his hand was still trembling. She’d wrinkled her nose and sighed in her sleep and he’d smiled in bittersweet longing.
He’d wanted to wake her and take her again. Wanted to kiss her, long and deep, to stoke the hunger that burned in her until it was a conflagration that matched his own desire.
He’d had sex with women far more skilled, but not once had he so lost himself that he’d forgotten to use a sheath or withdraw. With Heloise he’d done neither. It was as if his body was trying to sabotage his brain. The odds of her becoming pregnant from just the one encounter were slim but his stomach still knotted at the idea of his child in her belly. Every primitive instinct howled at the rightness of it.
If shewaspregnant there’d be hell to pay. He’d have to marry her. For one brief moment he allowed himself a vision of the unthinkable, of himself married to Heloise, allowed to touch her without guilt. Anytime. Anywhere. Every day of his life. All the blood left his head.
Raven shook it. She deserved better than that. Better than him. She deserved a man with a whole, unsullied heart, not one who’d inevitably hurt her, frighten her, disappoint her.
A part of him was fiercely glad he’d taken her virginity. He felt a surge of savage satisfaction that this, at least, was one thing that could never be taken from him, never be undone. He wanted be the first, the last, theonlyman she ever slept with for the rest her life. But that couldn’t happen. There would be no question of a repeat performance. That one night would have to be enough to last a lifetime.
She was up and dressed when he returned to the clearing, helping the women. His chest tightened with a fierce possessiveness. Mine. Except she wasn’t, and never could be. He forced himself to stroll over to her, even as he memorized every nuance of her appearance. “I’m going for Kit now.”
She stiffened then turned, a slight blush staining her cheeks. “Where’s the exchange taking place?”
“An abandoned church, over in the next valley. Alejandro knows the place. If all goes well, we’ll be back here with Kit before sunset. He’ll probably need medical attention, so be ready to help the women if you’re needed.”
She nodded, uncharacteristically meek and obedient. He narrowed his eyes. “You know you can’t come with me, Hellcat.”
“I know.”
“Swear to me you’re not planning something. This is not the time for an adventure.”
“I’m not planning anything. I intend to stay right here until you get back.”
He blinked and feigned astonishment. “Are you feeling quite well? Did Alejandro give you some of his ‘special’ sangria?”
“No, why?”
“I’m just a little suspicious of this docility, that’s all.”
She pursed her lips. “I’m not a complete idiot, Ravenwood. I’m not about to purposely endanger either myself or you by ignoring your advice this time. I had quite enough excitement at the caves, thank you very much.”
“Well, good. It’s a relief to see you repress the habit of a lifetime and besensible for once.”
She didn’t rise to the bait. He drew one of his pistols from his waistband and offered it to her. She shook her head. “You might need it.”
“No, I won’t. I can’t take them with me. I need to maintain the illusion of being a prisoner.”
“Isn’t that a little risky?”
He shrugged and pressed the gun into her hand. “I’ll have my knives and I’ll feel better if you’re armed. There are sentries posted all around the camp, but that sniper might still be out there.”
She tilted her head, her brow furrowed. “This could be a trap. What if the French have discovered the Baker is dead? Won’t they kill whoever’s sent to deal with them?”