Raven caught the horses, which were grazing contentedly nearby, and Heloise breathed a silent prayer of thanks that they hadn’t galloped away. The last thing she needed was to be stranded in the middle of this unforgiving landscape with him.
But Persephone had opted to stay close to the dubious protection of Hades, when she could have made a spirited bid for freedom. Heloise shook her head. Horses were stupid creatures.
Her clothes dried quickly as they rode. The breeches rubbed against her thighs but Heloise refused to utter a word of complaint. She’d asked for an adventure, hadn’t she? And this was certainly more exciting than sitting at home. She’d even faced one of her greatest fears and survived, although that was probably more to Raven’s credit than hers. Perhaps her wish to swim in the ocean one day wasn’t so far-fetched after all.
“Thank you,” she said suddenly.
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 should not be 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 ever do decide 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.
Heloise giggled in delight. Raven doubled up with a curse, waving his hands to shoo the creature away while simultaneously trying to avoid the flapping wings, pecking beak, and scratching claws. After a blur of arms and feathers, the outraged fowl finally escaped through the open door and Raven flopped back onto the straw with a final curse. Stray feathers floated down around him and settled on his prone body like snow. Heloise’s stomach gave an odd little twist. He looked like a banished angel, just fallen from heaven, and not happy about it one bit.
He glared up at her. “Wretch.”
She widened her eyes and feigned innocence. “Me?”
He extended his arms toward her. “Jump down. I’ll catch you.”
She snorted. “You won’t. I’ll flatten you.”
His mouth quirked at the corners and his eyes took on a mischievous glint. “Oh, believe me, I can handle your weight anytime.”
Heloise felt her cheeks warm again. “I can do it myself.”
He shrugged and rolled to one side to give her room to land. Without giving herself time to worry about how high up she was, she jumped. The mound of hay cushioned her fall nicely but she couldn’t control her forward momentum. She sprawled right on top of Raven.
She tried to push herself off him while simultaneously trying to avoid putting her hands on some utterly inappropriate part of his anatomy, but the unstable straw made the task almost impossible. Raven, the beast, made absolutely no move to help. In fact, he seemed to be thoroughly enjoying her predicament. While she struggled and squirmed, getting more flustered by the minute, he extended his arms out to the side and rested his head back in the straw with an earthy chuckle.
Heloise lost her balance again. Her breasts squashed against his chest and her knee slid between his thighs. She let out a howl of frustration and deliberately dug an elbow into his ribs.
“Oomph!” he groaned, half sitting up. “That’s enough!”
He made to grab her but she dodged his hands, made a fist, and whacked him on the shoulder. It hurt her hand.
“Hey!” he laughed. “What’s that about? You fell on me.”
She pummeled him again, aroused, infuriated, and embarrassed all at once. He captured her wrists and secured them above her head with one hand. “Enough,” he said again.
Before she could say anything else he switched their positions and rolled on top of her. Heloise froze. His long body covered hers, pushing her down into the soft give of hay. She held her breath at the full delicious weight of him along her body. Her brain turned to mush.
Slowly, so slowly she could have pulled away, he reached out and captured a tiny feather that had settled on her eyelash. He balanced it on the tip of his finger then blew it gently, watching as it seesawed down to her throat.
A bright spark of longing arced between them, urging her to close the scant distance. Her skin tingled in anticipation as she recalled the exact texture of those lips, the wicked taste of him. Her stomach muscles contracted as she prepared to curl toward him and press her mouth to his. Time stretched to infinity.
“No.”
Raven pressed his lips together, shook his head as if to clear it, and rolled off her. He brushed the straw from his breeches with a brisk movement, picked up his pistols, and stalked away.
Heloise dropped her head back into the straw with a groan. This was not disappointment. Or frustration. It was relief. She didn’t want to kiss him. He made her reckless and stupid. He made her hot enough to burn.