Raven and the Cowboy: A Loveswept Historical Romance (9 page)

Colorado seemed a lifetime ago. After Sabrina had married, Raven had never felt comfortable with her life
in the cabin where she’d been raised. She’d spent more and more time with her mother’s people, the Arapaho, and the Grandfather, Flying Cloud. She belonged with them.

Now she was in a different place, away from every thing she’d known before. Luce was dying. It was only a matter of hours now. Then there’d be only Tucker.

Tucker Farrell, her cougar, the man who’d been caught up in her quest. She could understand his being tempted by the treasure. But more than that was holding him. She couldn’t forget the wary, tense look in his eyes, the tender touch of his fingertips as he separated the blood-matted strands of her hair. He’d let her think that he was a hardened drifter, but beneath his stern exterior was a softness he tried to hide.

Being held in his arms had felt unmistakably safe, and that was a sensation she’d never experienced before. Even as she tried to close off the unwanted response that seemed to hover just beneath the surface, a quiver started in her thighs and moved toward the apex of her legs. Instinctively she tightened the muscles around the feminine part of her.

For a long moment, Raven stood still, clearing her mind, seeking comfort from the spirit world, some thought, some word to which she could cling. At first none came. The visions were absent. She felt suddenly uneasy. Who was she to be charged with such a mission, and how would she be able to carry it out?

Then she felt rather than heard the whispery sound of many voices, the drums and the chanting, softly at first, then growing more insistent. She couldn’t understand the words, but she felt their urgency. There was no trance, no vision. Only a voice.

Follow the water to the treasure, where the light of the
moon meets the light of the sun
. The command was barely a whisper.

For a moment she thought it was in her head. Then she decided that it was Luce’s voice she was hearing.

She moved back to the old man’s side. His eyes were closed. He was asleep. “Why?” she asked. “I don’t understand.”

The voice spoke again.
You will—soon. You are the key
. She waited, but there were no more words. Finally she gave in to the pull drawing her outside again, toward the back of the cabin and up a narrow path.

“Who are you?” she whispered. “What are you asking of me?”

But no answer came. Only the wind through her hair, caressing her like warm fingers, like Tucker’s touch when he’d treated her wound. As she walked an urgency swept her up the path.

Then she heard it, the musical sound of water. A splash and an oath. Tucker. Planting her feet carefully, she peered around the rocks that blocked her way. High on the side of the ridge, through a smooth hole worn through a rock, a narrow stream of water plunged to a hollowed-out pool below.

Standing in the pool was Tucker Farrell, hair in wet strands that dripped water down his massive, naked chest. His clothes were draped across the rocks to dry in the sun, and he was peering into a sliver of broken mirror, raking a razor across the last patch of soap on his face.

She was acutely drawn to him. Despite her mental commands, she couldn’t take her eyes off him. Everything was turning out to be so much more complicated than she’d thought. The journey, the unknown, the danger, all were things she could deal with. She hadn’t counted on Tucker Farrell.

Gone was the unruly drifter he’d pretended to be. The man before her was now the sleek cougar he’d always been in her mind’s eye. She’d known he was big, but his clothing was deceptive, giving him bulk when he was pure muscle. A jagged scar streaked down his back, disappearing into the water at his waist. He was spectacular.

It was all she could do not to call out to him, not to touch him, not to—

“Ouch!”

As he jerked away, his elbow caught the mirror and it narrowly missed his body as it plunged into the water. “Son of a—” He stared down at his body through the clear water. “Nothing like turning yourself into a gelding. Though you might as well be for all the chances you’ve had lately.”

Raven let out a startled gasp, then held her breath as he looked over his shoulder. A narrow seeping of blood sliced his cheek and ran down the watery smear of soap left behind.

She ducked down, her back to the rocks, eyes closed. Maybe if she was very quiet, he’d decide that the sound he’d heard wasn’t human. Maybe he wouldn’t know that she’d been spying on him, that she’d had improper thoughts.

“I hope that’s you, Spirit Woman. I’d rather not have to shoot an intruder, since my gun is with my pants, and as you can see, I’m not wearing them.”

She continued to hold her breath, willing him to reach down for the mirror so that she could escape.

A slosh of water, followed by cold drops of it on the top of her head, said she’d been discovered.

“I’m sorry, Tucker. I—I was looking for a place to bathe. The water looks very pleasant.”

“You were staring at the water?”

“Of course. I mean I wasn’t staring. I just didn’t expect you to be …”

“You were staring. I saw you in the mirror. You want a bath. Come on in. I’ll even scrub your back.”

She pressed her back against the rock, her face flushed and her breathing altogether too uneven.

“Raven, stand up and look at me.”

“I can’t.” She willed her eyelids to remain closed. She wouldn’t look at him. She couldn’t. But it didn’t matter. This time she felt it coming, the swirl of smoke that clouded even her mental sight. Powerful, different, the smoke was golden, shot with tiny points of iridescent light.

What was happening? If this was a vision, it was very different from the others.

The hot shower of mist seemed to draw into itself, forming a picture of an enormous bronze man looming over her, threatening, evil. Then, as quickly as it had formed, the shape softened and, almost as if it were protecting her, became the golden man she’d likened to a mountain lion. She didn’t have to see him with open eyes. And she didn’t have to touch him to feel his hands on her. He caressed her with his spirit. And she was welcoming him, reaching out to him.

His hands were on her. His lips, moving across her face, her neck, and her bare breasts.

Bare?

How could that be? She felt the rocks against her back, the weight of her deerskin garment against her skin. Yet Tucker was surrounding her with his presence. And she was reaching out to pull him close to her. Beads of perspiration slickened their skin where they met. Between her legs came a hot dampness, and she felt the taut flesh of his buttocks beneath her touch.

Yet all the while she knew that her palms were still
splayed against the rock. That Tucker was behind her, looking down. Still, she felt him, his male part swelling and caught between them, touching, sliding back and forth.

Her breath came in short pants as the coil of heat inside her expanded, sending fingers of fire shimmering along the vessels inside her skin.

They were together, this tawny man and his dark-eyed raven. Yet they were not. She was on fire now, reaching, writhing, wanting.

“Christ, Raven, what’s happening here?”

Tucker’s voice, tight and hoarse, came from far away. “I don’t know what on the west side of hell you’re doing, but if you don’t stop it, I’m not going to be able to hold on to my good intentions much longer.”

The droplets of water that hit her forehead were no longer cooling. They were as hot as the temperature of her blood.

Then he was physically beside her, jerking her against him, crushing her with his huge hands. “Stop this!” He shook her. Still she couldn’t shake the image. It was stronger than her mind, stronger than the man now lifting her in his arms and striding toward the pool.

He put her down, ripping the buckskin dress from her body in one swipe. Then he lifted her again.

Cold! The ice of a thousand storms melted and sizzled against the heat of her body as she hit the water in the pool. From above, a continuing torrent of melted snow fell over her, quenching the firestorm in her mind.

At last, limp with exhaustion from the shock of what she’d seen and felt, Raven opened her eyes and found Tucker in the pool beside her.

“I—I’m sorry,” she said.

“What the hell was that?” he asked. “I never felt anything like it.”

“Neither have I. I believe it was a waking dream.”

“You mean a vision strong enough to make a man—?”

She turned a troubled gaze on him. “You felt it too?”

“Felt. Experienced. Yes. At least I assume that we were in the same—vision.”

Now that she was cool, Raven was totally drained. She had to move away from the intimidating presence of Tucker Farrell. As she took a step toward the edge of the pool, she looked down at her body.

“What happened to my dress?”

“I slung it into the rocks. You were burning up. I was afraid it would catch fire. I’ll get it for you.”

But he couldn’t move. The sight of her body in the water immobilized him. He’d never seen anyone so beautiful. Her breasts seemed to float just beneath the surface of the water, their rich warm color shimmering like amber in sunlight. Nipples as full and dark as ripe cherries begged to be touched. And between her legs, the soft curls of dark hair rippled as the water moved against her.

The erect male part of him jerked involuntarily, pulling him toward her. He didn’t look at her face, for he didn’t want to see the fear reflected in her eyes.

She whirled around, reached the other side, and pulled herself to the ledge, ducking beneath the waterfall. And just as quickly, she was gone, leaving him bewildered and out of breath.

Tucker closed his eyes, then opened them again in time to see her disappearing through the rocks, drawing her buckskin dress over her shoulders. He moved back toward the edge of the pool and sat on the rock.

What had just happened?

He’d been aware of her. He’d caught sight of her in the mirror. Her presence had rattled him so that he’d cut
himself. When he’d heard her gasp, he’d called out to her and waited for her to respond.

But she hadn’t. Instead he’d felt her experiencing the incredible onset of heat that arched between them. And he’d left the pool and leaned over the rocks to reprimand her. Except he’d been caught up in whatever was happening and seared against the rock, looking down at the top of her head.

From that point on, he had no explanation. Even with the rock between them, he’d been burned by her heat, her desire, her fear, and in his mind he came to stand before her, pressing against her, feeling her body against his.

And she’d welcomed him. She’d wanted him. They were mentally making love, powerfully, erotically, almost beyond the limitations of what he could ever have imagined.

Then, as if the sun were about to explode, he’d feared for her. Too much heat. Too much need was burning her alive. Collecting his spiraling emotions, he had physically pried himself from the rock and lifted her, the heat burning his hands and his body as they plunged into the icy water.

Then they were apart. In that second he’d seen something that even while it was happening he didn’t believe, a figure twice his height, a giant bronze man wearing armor. Then suddenly, as if the sun had vanished behind a cloud, the vision was gone and she’d disappeared behind the falls.

Had it all been a dream? Had the blow to his head done permanent damage, setting off some kind of hallucinations? Was she a witch with powers he didn’t even want to believe in?

As he stood he caught a flash of silver at the bottom of the pool. The broken mirror caught the beams of sunlight
through the shimmering water, sending out a blinding ray that held him spellbound.

Body drained, Tucker pulled himself from the pool and donned the clothes he’d left to dry on the rocks. As he started down the trail he felt as if he’d been asleep for a very long time, as if he were recovering from an illness that had taken every ounce of energy from his bones. Back at the cabin, he paused, considered for a minute that he would be well served to leave before she’d completely ensnared him with one of her spells.

Then he went inside.

She was feeding the old man, coaxing him into taking a few swallows of broth. Only the dampness of her hair reaffirmed that the past half hour hadn’t been a dream.

“About what happened,” he began.

“Did something happen?” She looked at him with concern.

“Of course something happened. Up at the pool. I’ve heard about people being hypnotized into seeing something that wasn’t there, Spirit Woman. I don’t know how you did it, but you made me believe it was real.”

The white-fingered grip of her hand on the spoon told him that she was fooling herself about what they’d experienced. Fooling herself because she didn’t understand any more than he.

“There is only a thin veil between what is real, Tucker Farrell, and what is imagined. Do not confuse the two.” She put down the cracked cup she was holding and walked toward the table. “Sit and eat. Your mind will be still.”

It wasn’t his mind that was tortured. And it wasn’t his stomach either. He thought for a moment about the food on the table. One of his needs was about to be satisfied.

He wasn’t sure about the others.