Simply Heaven (11 page)

Steve overheard her, and after they had ridden away he said, "That was nice of you, Raven. I'm glad you realize there's no need in being rude to others because you're mad at me."

She ignored him.

They reached a settlement in Louisiana. After buying a simple muslin dress and undergarments for Raven, even though she grumbled, he sent her to a bathhouse to clean up while he waited outside to make sure she didn't try to run away. He was tired of her disheveled appearance, and when she finally came out, freshly scrubbed, her black hair washed, silky soft, and brushed free of all tangles, he couldn't help telling her how pretty she was. "What a waste for you to pretend to be anything but what you are, Raven—a lovely young woman."

She glared at him and stuck out her tongue.

He thought about loading up with supplies and riding straight through to Alabama but decided instead to take the necessary time to illustrate to Raven that people could be nice. He had come to the conclusion her past experiences with society had not been pleasant for her.

There was no shortage of hospitality on the trails. People were glad for company.

They stopped at another house, where they were served supper by the light of pine knots blazing in the chimney, with their hosts apologizing for the absence of candles. The jug of blackberry wine served with the fresh Gulf shrimp more than made up for any inconvenience, however. Steve noted Raven also seemed to enjoy it, and before the meal had ended, she had opened up a bit and begun to talk to the couple's daughter.

When it was time to sleep, the man of the house—Judd Hannibal—assuming Steve and Raven were married, said, "You two can have that bed in the corner. We ain't got but one other room built on the back, but the kids can sleep in there with me and their ma for tonight."

Steve looked at Raven, expecting her to protest. When they camped at night, he always knotted a rope around her ankle, looping the other end around his arm. That way he woke every time she turned over, so there was no chance of her trying to run away. But he did give her a long enough rope that she could sleep on the other side of bushes, for her privacy. Now, however, they had been offered a bed to share, and he was expecting her to declare they weren't man and wife. Instead, he was surprised to hear her thank Mr. Hannibal sweetly for being so kind.

When they were alone, the room alive with golden shadows playing on the walls, Steve said, "You can have the bed, and I'll take the floor. But I'll be right in front of the door in case you get any ideas," he added, annoyed to see her looking at him so smugly.

"That's nice of you, Mr. Maddox. And since I'm so tired, I think I'll turn in right now."

He took a blanket from the bed and spread it before the door. Then, as he began to unbutton his shirt, planning, as usual, to sleep only in his trousers, he was startled to see that Raven had taken off her clothes and stood naked. His eyes locked on her breasts, which reminded of ripe golden apples in the shimmering firelight, but there was no time to allow his gaze to travel downward, for he had only one brief, tantalizing glimpse before she turned away.

He stared, pulse racing, as she stretched her arms high over her head and faked a prolonged yawn before saying nonchalantly, "It's really hot in here, but since it's not my house, I certainly can't say anything if they insist on not drowning the fire in the grate."

His gaze riveted upon her buttocks, high, firm, and round, and he felt a quivering within as she moved sensuously, sassily, to pull back the blanket on the bed. When she finally lay down, uncovered, he sucked in his breath to see how her in the fire's dwindling light.

Raven felt him staring and was glad he could not see her face, for surely her cheeks burned with embarrassment. But she had to do it, she told herself over and over, in order to make her scheme work.

Steve watched, fascinated by the rise and fall of her bosom. And was it his imagination, he wondered, a bit wildly, or were her nipples hard? He gave himself a vicious shake, along with a silent admonition for acting like a horny young boy. He knew she was just trying to tease him, arouse him, make him miserable with wanting her. Hadn't she promised he'd be sorry for making her go with him? It was all part of her threat, and he'd be damned if he would let her get to him.

"I know what you're trying to do," he said finally, harshly. "Just make sure you cover yourself before old Hannibal comes in here in the morning. You might give
him
ideas," he added to make her think
he
was not impressed.

But Raven was not fooled. She had seen the way he reacted, had heard his rapid breathing. He would be miserable all night long, thinking about her naked only a few feet away. She wanted him to suffer, wanted him to feel the same stirrings she had experienced when he'd thought her a boy and unknowingly enticed her. Let him agonize as she had. And if he lost control and tried to force himself upon her, so much the better. Here, she would scream and bring Mr. Hannibal running, and then she'd tell the truth and accuse Steve of rape. But if he waited till they were back on the trail to attack, then she would best him in another way, for he was not yet aware of how proficient she was in hand-to-hand combat. Some of the young braves on the reservation had been glad to teach her all she needed to know to protect herself against white men when her body was her only weapon.

* * *

Steve was miserable.

Being alone with her since discovering her ruse had not bothered him till now, because he knew she was deliberately trying to arouse him. So he was a long time falling asleep, and when he awoke, the sun was full in his face.

Bolting upright, it all came back to him: where he was, what he was doing there, and, with a jolt of panic, the memory of how he had positioned himself in front of the door to keep Raven from escaping. But now the door was wide open and the bed she'd slept in was empty.

He hurried out to the porch, only to stop short to see her fully dressed and sitting in the wood swing.

She turned to smile at him sweetly, innocently, as she pushed against the plank floor with her toes to make the swing move ever so gently to and fro. "The door opened out instead of in, Mr. Maddox, so I didn't have to wake you in leaving after all."

He stuck his hands behind his back so she couldn't see how they were clenched in frustration. "Why didn't you run away?"

Wanting to annoy him even more by not answering his question, she changed the subject. "The horses are fed, watered, and ready to go. Shall we wake up the Hannibals to thank them or just be on our way?"

"We ride," he said snappily. "The sooner I deliver you to your father, the quicker I can be rid of the responsibility for you." He went to gather his things, bristling all the while.

As they rode farther into Louisiana, Raven was impressed by the beauty of the land. They were no longer in uncivilized territory, and she marveled at roadside fences made by flower hedges.

"Cherokee rose and sweetbriar," Steve said grudgingly when she asked what kind of blossoms they were.

She could tell he was still mad, because now
he
was the one who wanted to sulk. She decided to irritate him with more questions. "It looks as though they were first planted by the side of an ordinary rail fence, which must have served as some kind of trellis, and as they got bigger, they matted together and became a thicket. What are those other flowers?" She pointed.

He bit out the names. "Trumpet creepers, grapevines, and some sugarcane. How do you know about fences and trellises? I didn't see any around the fort."

"My stepfather told me about things like that. He saw to it I could read, and he provided me with books. He wanted me to know about the genteel side of life"—she winked at him—"because, after all, I'm only
half
savage, remember?"

He fumed to realize she was trying to be as obnoxious as possible. Well, two could play that game. "You're right. You're only half savage, and that's the half we've got to clean up before you meet your father."

"What do you mean?" Something told her she was not going to like his answer. She'd already had a bath and wore a dress. What more did he want?

"We have to get you a really nice traveling outfit. And a hat. Maybe I'll even hire a carriage in Mobile, to carry you home properly."

Silently she swore she would not let him make her lose her temper. "I don't want to wear a hat, and I don't want to ride in a wagon."

"I didn't say wagon, I said carriage."

"It's all the same."

"That shows what you don't know, Raven. You're no doubt used to open buckboard wagons, like the army uses, with mules to pull. I'm talking about a nice carriage with a top, velvet or leather seats, and good horses."

"Diablo is good enough for me. So are the clothes I have on."

"I disagree. We'll do as I say and really clean you up, whether you like it or not."

Then and there, Raven made up her mind to go one step farther in tormenting Steve into wanting her so desperately she could catch him off guard and escape.

It happened when they were a half day's ride out of Baton Rouge, camped alongside one of Louisiana's many lakes. Steve had managed to catch several nice fish, thanks to Raven producing the necessary tackle from her saddlebag—hooks carved from bone and line made from Diablo's tail.

As she helped clean and skewer the fish for cooking, she was amused by how Steve very carefully avoided touching her as they worked side by side. She had deliberately unbuttoned the front of her dress low enough to display her cleavage. He was trying to ignore her, but she saw him stealing quick, furtive glances every so often and knew her plan to provoke him beyond the limits of his willpower was working. She did not like doing it, for it made her feel immoral, but if that's what it took to get away from him, so be it.

It was still daylight when they finished eating. Raven stood and began to undo the rest of her buttons as she made the casual announcement, "I'm going to go for a swim and take a bath."

Steve stumbled in his haste to get to his feet and walk away.

"Hey, aren't you afraid I'll run away?" she called after him.

"I won't be that lucky," he yelled over his shoulder, careful not to turn around, for out of the corner of his eye he could see her pulling her dress over her head and tossing it aside. Although sorely tempted, he did not look.

She called to taunt him. "That's not very nice of you, because if I decide to stay and claim my inheritance, you'll be out of a job if you aren't nice to me."

He could have told her he had already come to that conclusion, regardless of who eventually took over Halcyon. But what irked him at the moment was what she was trying to do to him. He'd abandon her, if not for his promise to Ned, but he had come too far now and would somehow manage to put up with her the rest of the way. After they reached Baton Rouge, it would take four days of steady riding to reach Mobile, maybe less if they could pick up the pace a bit. Meanwhile, all he had to do was ignore her and not let her get under his skin, not let her make him do something he would later regret.

Thrashing through some weeds and brambles, he found a clearing and sat down. He would not go back where she was until he could be sure she had her clothes on. Maybe he would sit there till after dark to be on the safe side.

She was singing. He could not make out the words, for it was an Indian song, but he couldn't help thinking it was pretty. Her voice was pretty.
She
was pretty, damn it.

He dug his heels into the soft earth, making tiny ruts in his frustration. In a nice gown, hair coiffed, body oiled and perfumed, she would have men flocking after her like crows to a cornfield. Sure, Lisbeth, with her big blue eyes and golden curls, had her share of beaus, but she was the kind men wanted mostly for a wife, mistress of their manor, mother of their children. Raven, on the other hand, evoked delicious thoughts beyond standard fare. With her dark, seductive eyes, husky, throaty voice, and the supple way she moved, a man couldn't look at Raven and think beyond what it would be like to have her moaning and thrashing in his bed.

Despite her cold facade, there was something about her that promised passion untold to the man she favored with the pleasures she had to offer.

But Steve knew she did
not
wish to bestow her treasures upon him. She didn't want him—she just wanted him to want her, so she could make him look like a fool when she ultimately rejected him. Maybe she hoped to catch him unawares, best him again and escape. But he was not going to fall into her trap.

He tried to turn his mind to other matters to pass the time and thought of Ned, hoping he was still alive, knowing if he was how pleased he would be to see his daughter at long last.

He thought, too, about the racking horses and how he was looking forward to working with them again... if only for a little while.

Maybe, after Ned died, he would return to Virginia, to the ranch where he had worked before. He was good with horses, could probably get his old job back, and—

Suddenly it dawned on him how quiet it was. Raven had stopped singing, and there were no sounds of splashing. Maybe she hadn't been joking, he thought in a panic as he scrambled to his feet. Maybe she had made that crack about running away to throw him off guard, and right now she was riding away on his horse, instead of Diablo, so he couldn't whistle and get her thrown again. And she would take Diablo also, so there'd be no way for him to go after her.