Raven hadn’t worried at first when Cale didn’t return. When her father was sulking, he always wanted to be alone. When a full week passed and Cale still hadn’t returned, Raven had cause to wish back the words she had flung at him, to wish that she had left his dirty old cabin the way it was and not gotten him so upset.
She had never been completely alone before.
On the one hand, it was lovely to be able to sleep past dawn if she wanted, to wait well into the morning before breaking her fast. It was wonderful to be able to do exactly what she wanted, when she wanted. She took advantage of the opportunity to explore the open area around Cale’s cabin. She found a tiny meadow dotted with an abundance of wildflowers, including lupine and Indian paintbrush and fireweed and late-blooming primrose.
Beyond the meadow, a virgin forest of fir and pine and aspen loomed high above her. The wind in the trees sounded like the exhale of some great beast. It made her shiver when she listened at night. And reminded her of another beast that growled when he was angry.
Raven wasn’t afraid to be alone, but she was a little lonely. For the first time in her life there was nothing she needed to do. It gave her a chance to sit and think. She had known for a long time that she would never have a home or a husband or children. She knew her father would never allow it. But that didn’t mean she hadn’t dreamed of those things.
Since the time she was old enough to bear children, she had imagined herself with a husband whose eyes glowed with love for her, watching as she suckled a babe at her breast. Sometimes—before Ribbon Jack—when she had seen a white man look at her with admiring eyes, she had imagined what it would be like if he courted her, if he married her and took her to live in a wooden cabin like the one she had seen as a child.
But the admiration had always turned to lechery. And after Ribbon Jack, no white man had looked at her with anything except fear and loathing. No man, that is, except Cale Landry.
To her chagrin, Raven had begun to weave dreams around the man, despite his bestial looks, despite his bear-like behavior. She pictured them living in his cabin, with their children playing outside.
But the picture wouldn’t stay in focus. Because it was a dream. Because being with Cale was only temporary, until she had paid her father’s debt. And there was no love in his eyes when he looked at her, only lust.
And loneliness.
She didn’t forget the loneliness. It made him vulnerable. It kept him from being, in fact, a beast. It made him human.
Raven pondered why she felt differently toward Cale than she had toward any other man. Even when she had dreamed of a husband, he had been a sort of protective figure who watched over her, nothing more. She had never dreamed of joining with a man, even though that was necessary to create the child in her dreams. It seemed strange to her that she should want to couple with Cale, but she did.
His face was not particularly attractive. Actually, she had never seen the face hidden beneath his thick black beard. She had a fervent desire to see it, though. His nose had a bump at the bridge where it had been broken and healed crookedly, but it was otherwise straight and not too large. His teeth were good and mostly straight. She imagined they would make quite a splash of white if he ever smiled. So far she had only seen him bare them in pain.
His mouth was hidden by his beard, but she had seen his lips flattened in disgust. The lower lip seemed more full than the upper, but that could be an illusion created by his mustache. His eyes were deep black wells where fierce emotion often surfaced. She liked his eyes.
His body was powerful, his hands large and callused, his legs long and muscular. She could not find fault with any of them. In fact, she already knew that touching him was pleasurable. But she had been given too little chance to let her fingers roam. She wondered what would have happened if they hadn’t been interrupted by Three Toes.
On the other hand, it was probably a good thing the bear had shown up.
Raven had a dreadful fear that, once in the throes of sexual fever, Cale might turn into the sort of wild-eyed, brutal animal Ribbon Jack had been. She had no other experience with a man. She knew that beasts in rut would fight to the death to secure a mate. She had seen for herself the wild light in Ribbon Jack’s eyes as he tore at her clothes and clawed at her flesh. She had writhed with excruciating pain as her body resisted his penetration. If she had not reached her knife in time, Raven knew he would have torn her in half with the sword he had wielded so unmercifully. What if the same thing happened with Cale?
She didn’t trust Cale enough . . . yet . . . to believe he would not turn into a ravening beast. So her dreams were going to have to remain dreams, until the man returned to prove himself one way or the other.
Assuming, of course, that he did return.
Raven had begun to doubt he would. She put her dreams aside and headed back toward the cabin. It, at least, was real. She had made it as nearly into the home of her dreams as she could. It was a pity that when the first snow fell, she was going to have to leave it.