by Francis Ray
Raven’s gaze flew to Duncan; she saw his mouth quirk. “Partly,” he murmured.
Raven wanted to kick him. “We’ve eaten. I cooked a sausage pie and made coffee. Are you still full of rabbit stew or do you want a slice of pie?”
“Hoagie’s stew didn’t taste like I remembered. I’d appreciate the pie.” He went to the cabinet and picked up two mugs. “Boss, I’ll get us some coffee and you can give me a firsthand account while I eat.”
Raven slid the rest of the pie, almost half, on a plate and put it on the table. Rooster might be small, but he could pack away food like a lumberjack. “I’ll leave you to it and go get dressed for church.”
“You can go with us.” Rooster forked in a bite of pie, nodded his graying head. “After last night, you’re one of us.”
Raven’s gaze went to Duncan, but his expression was unreadable. “I don’t mind driving myself.”
“Makes no sense,” Rooster said around a mouthful of pie. “The boss can introduce you to our neighbors. Afterward he can take us out to eat. After cooking all week, we deserve the day off. Ain’t that right, boss?”
“Yes,” Duncan agreed, but the teasing man of moments ago was gone, leaving Raven to wonder what had caused the abrupt change.
“If you’re sure, Duncan. I don’t want to take up your time on Sunday, too.” She wanted to give him an out. Obviously Rooster hadn’t noted the difference in Duncan’s demeanor.
“Why should Sunday be different than any other day?” he asked, picking up his cup and taking a drink.
Raven’s eyes narrowed. Had he been just making a statement or being pithy? Last Sunday, she had worked at the cave half a day before returning to the ranch house to do research. On the way back to the ranch house, she had spotted Duncan.
Rooster stood with his empty plate. “Better hurry, Raven. We want to get a good seat.”
Raven stopped trying to figure out a pensive-looking Duncan and headed for her room.
Duncan wanted to stuff a biscuit in Rooster’s mouth. Make that two biscuits. Because of him, Duncan was wedged in the church pew with Raven pressed against him from her delicate shoulder to her delectable knee.
Every time he drew in a breath, he inhaled her perfume, a sweet, spicy scent that made all of his male hormones pant for mercy.
And if that weren’t all, the hem of the skirt of the celery-colored suit stopped a good five inches from her knees. The large handbag in her lap didn’t help; neither did her discreet tugging. He wished she’d stop. Her rubbing against him was having the wrong effect. His hat might be in his lap now, but Reverend Radford paced back and forth in front of the wooden podium and the organist played, sure signs that the reverend was winding down and that meant Duncan would have to stand.
God knew man was weak and would forgive him. Duncan wasn’t so sure about the people in the congregation. Even now, Duncan could feel the blatant stares and hear the hushed whispers speculating on the relationship between him and Raven.
Rooster’s doing. Like a proud father, he had introduced Raven, retelling the story of her helping with the foal’s birth. Each time the story was told, the situation grew more dire, Raven more heroic. To give her credit, Duncan had seen her lips twitch a couple of times. She’d mouthed “I’m sorry” to him.
She accepted the praise and always managed to reiterate that Duncan had been the one who deserved the credit, not her. Rooster called her modest, then instructed Duncan to seat “our newest hand.”
More than ready to get out of the spotlight, Duncan had done as instructed, finding them a seat at the farthest end of the pew. He hadn’t thought so at the time, but as Reverend Radford asked everyone to stand and gave the invocation the seating had been intentional.
Duncan hadn’t wanted another man as close to Raven as he was and definitely not to see that much of her legs. A couple of times he’d almost driven off the road looking at her instead of where he was going.
Too many men were looking already. If Jack Stewart looked around one more time, grinning like he’d been thrown from his horse one time too many, Duncan wasn’t going to be responsible. The shiftless man wasn’t getting near Rav—
“Will all of our visitors please stand,” Reverend Radford requested.
Duncan’s attention snapped back, felt Raven try to make herself smaller. At five-seven, it wasn’t going to happen.
“Raven, stand up,” Rooster said, in a voice loud enough for half the church to hear.
Reverend Radford smiled benignly and stared straight at Raven. “I think we have a shy visitor, but one I’ve heard a lot about. Rooster, perhaps you can encourage your guest to stand.”
Rooster sprang up like a jack-in-the-box and reached across Duncan for Raven’s hand. She placed hers in his and came to her feet immediately. Duncan knew inwardly she might want to bop Rooster on the head, but she would not want to embarrass him.
Heads turned. Jack Stewart smacked his lips. Duncan wanted to smack him in his rude mouth. They acted as if they’d never seen a woman before.
“This here is Miss Raven La Blanc. She—”
Raven squeezed Rooster’s hand, smiled at him, and then sat back down, drawing him with her. Not to be outdone, Rooster said, “She’s modest, as becoming a fine woman.”
“The Psalms say it is better for someone else to brag on you,” Reverend Radford said. “Let us stand.”
Duncan grasped Raven’s elbow and drew her to her feet. The moment the reverend said, “Amen,” Duncan urged Raven out the pew and into the aisle near the wall. They didn’t even get a foot.
Jack Stewart was the first of many men to introduce themselves. It took over thirty minutes for Duncan, Raven, and Rooster to work their way out of the small wooden church. On the steps, Pastor Radford waved them over. Another seven minutes, complete with the retelling of the birth of the foal.
By the time they were heading for Duncan’s truck, his teeth ached from clenching them to keep the words locked in his mouth.
“Duncan! Duncan!”
Duncan increased his pace, muttered beneath his breath, heard Rooster do the same. Raven, however, balked, giving Cynthia Marshall and her father, Isaac, enough time to catch up with them. Isaac spoiled his youngest child, who thought all she had to do was point and her father would get her whatever it was she wanted. It was no secret that Cynthia, a recent college graduate, had pointed to Duncan.
“Hello, Duncan,” she said, staring at him as if he were the last designer bag on the Last Call table at Neiman Marcus and she intended to have it. He supposed she was pretty enough, but he had absolutely no interest in the woman, whose thoughts went no deeper than shopping or spending money.
“Hello, Duncan, Rooster, miss,” Isaac said. He was a big man with a wide chest, bowed legs, a startling contrast to his slim daughter. If he had a fault, it was not saying no to her.
“Hello, Isaac, Cynthia,” Duncan said. “Raven La Blanc, Isaac Marshall and his daughter Cynthia. Her father’s ranch is next to mine.”
“Hello, Mr. Marshall, Cynthia,” Raven greeted them, but Cynthia barely noticed. Her attention and affection were obviously on Duncan.
“You haven’t RSVP’d to my party Saturday night, Duncan.” Cynthia trailed a finger down the front of his white cotton shirt. “Surely you won’t disappoint me or Daddy.”
Isaac chuckled. “I told her you were just busy.” He circled his daughter’s shoulders with his arm. “My friends will be there to help my little girl celebrate finishing college. I can’t believe she’s all grown-up, but my credit cards tell me she is.”
Cynthia made a pretty face. “Women should do their best to look good at all times.” Her gaze slid to Raven. “Some women try, but they can’t quite pull it off.”
Duncan saw Isaac frown as his gaze snapped to Raven. She smiled, a siren’s smile, as if she knew the secrets of the world. “You’re so right, Cynthia. That’s why I never try.” She extended her hand to Isaac. “Nice meeting you. I think I’ll wait in the truck.”
“Daddy,” Cynthia wailed. “I’m sorry, but I’ve already turned in the number to the caterer.”
He cut his daughter an impatient look. “He’ll add one more. Duncan is a friend. I can’t ask him nor should he have to leave his houseguest.”
“Houseguest!” Cynthia’s eyes snapped. “You’re staying at the Double D?”
“Doing research for a book,” Rooster interjected into the growing silence. “She’s becoming indispensable to me and Duncan. Last night she helped him deliver a foal.”
Cynthia’s expression said she wasn’t impressed. “When are you leaving?”
“Summer’s end,” Raven said. “Good-bye.”
To Duncan’s annoyance, she didn’t make it two feet before four men, who had obviously been biding their time, surrounded her. Her laughter was a goad in his side.
“Like Reverend Radford said, it’s best to let others brag on you,” Rooster said. “I guess I’ll go escort Raven to the boss’s truck; otherwise she might not make it. I can’t remember another woman ever creating this much excitement, and to think, she didn’t even try.”
Cynthia’s sharp intake of breath cut through the air. Duncan smiled. If he hadn’t respected Isaac, he might have slapped Rooster on the back. “Good-bye, Isaac, Cynthia.”
“Duncan, I’d like to talk to you a minute.” Isaac turned to his daughter. “Excuse us for a moment, please.”
Cynthia looked as if she might protest, then said, “Yes, Daddy.” She smiled flirtatiously at Duncan and lightly touched his arm. “I’ll see you at the party.”
Not if I can help it, Duncan thought.
“Duncan, I wanted you to hear it from me that me and Crane are moving closer to a deal. My ancestors helped settle this land.” Isaac tugged the brim of his black Stetson. “I can afford to take care of my family, but some can’t. Ranching isn’t for everybody. As a member of the city council I have to think of what’s best for the majority of the people.”
“You don’t have to explain anything to me, Isaac. You can do what you please with your land,” Duncan told him.
Isaac hitched up his pants. “I know, but I don’t like to think of anything coming between our friendship. You’re a good friend and neighbor.”
Duncan respected the older man. He clasped Isaac’s shoulder and looked him straight in the eye. “I count myself lucky to be your friend. Nothing is going to change that. You do what you feel is right, but I’ll tell you straight out, I’m hoping you’ll find out what a snake Crane is before you sign anything.”
“I’ve had to deal with snakes before,” Isaac said. “See you at the party. Good-bye.”
“I hope this time you don’t get bit,” Duncan murmured, then turned to search for Raven. His eyes narrowed on seeing her surrounded by several men. He didn’t stop until he helped Rooster extract Raven from the crowd of eager men. “Sorry, fellows. Breakfast was a long time ago.”
“Good-bye,” Raven said, shaking each of the offered hands before allowing Duncan to lead her to the truck. Helping her inside, he tried not to watch her skirt slide up her thighs and failed. If he hadn’t, he might not have seen her open her purse and drop several pieces of paper inside.
He started the engine. “What are those?”
“Nothing,” she said, staring straight ahead.
“ ‘Nothing’ is right,” Rooster said. “As if Raven is gonna call any of them.”
Duncan’s hand tightened on the gearshift. “They gave you their telephone numbers?”
She shifted in her seat beside him. “Once I took one, I had to take all of them.” She glanced at Rooster. “I should have you call them. They all think I’m some kind of superwoman. You have to promise me not to tell that story again.”
“You should be pro—”
“I was thinking of making a double batch of chocolate chip cookies tonight,” she said. “I’ll prepare pot roast for supper tomorrow night—if I’m not fielding phone calls.”
“The ranch always has to come first,” Rooster said.
“Glad you agree.”
Duncan had listened to the exchange with interest. Rooster had met his match.
Something told Duncan he might have as well.
Chapter 9
Raven, her chin resting on top of her hands, stared over the stall door at Belle and her foal. It was still hard to believe that she had helped bring a life into the world.
“Can’t stay away?”
Raven didn’t start. Somehow she’d known that Duncan would find her. They hadn’t talked much since that morning. He didn’t want his emotions involved with her. She was afraid it was already too late. Somehow helping Belle had brought them closer. They were less guarded, more relaxed, around each other.
He braced his arms on the top of the stall door beside hers. She felt the faint touch radiate all over her body, felt his go still. It just remained to be seen if either of them could resist the sensual pull. She wouldn’t take any bets on it.
“I thought the proudest day of my life was the day I walked across the stage and received my Ph.D. But that was before last night.”
Duncan was quiet for a moment, then, “What do you think we should name him?”
Surprise lifted Raven’s head; joy widened her eyes. “We?”
He smiled, making her heart beat wildly. “You earned it.”
She looked back into the stall at the foal, jet-black and all legs, nursing. “Did you have any names picked out?”
“Not really. I’m not usually a superstitious man, but I wanted to wait,” he confessed.
“Rooster said you raised Belle from a filly,” she told him.
“The man I purchased the ranch from warned me to look at the livestock as a business, first, last, always. That way when you lost one, you wouldn’t feel it as deeply.”
Somehow she knew he hadn’t been able to do that. “Without caring, they become a burden instead of a joy. When that happens, you don’t take pleasure or pride in what you do. You love the land, the life you have, and it shows.”
“You’re right,” Duncan agreed. “I can’t imagine any other life for me.”
“Then you’re doubly blessed to have found your dream and be able to live it. Very few people can say that.” One day she’d be among the blessed ones. Opening the stall’s door, she went inside and stroked the foal now that he had finished eating.
“What’s your dream, Raven?” Duncan asked softly from behind her.
“To have permanence and roots so deep they can never be pulled up,” she answered. She’d never revealed her dream to anyone except Ruth. “As I said, my father traveled all over the world. Everyone in the family except me saw the traveling as a wonderful experience. I intensely disliked it.”
“Where do you plan to put down those roots?”
“Santa Fe.” And that was the fly in the ointment. Her life was over a thousand miles away; his was here. She looked up at him over the foal. “My findings at the cave will give me my dream.”
Entering the stall, Duncan closed the door and went to stand on the other side of the foal. “The Double D will give both of us our dreams.”
But not together, she thought. Sadness coursed though her. She felt the warmth of the colt beneath her hand. Life went on. You made choices in life and hoped and prayed they were the right ones.
“How about Midnight? He was born near midnight and his coat is jet-black.”
“Midnight it is.”
“I better get back,” she said. “We both have to get up early.”
“Just not together.”
At least he was persistent in what he wanted. “No. Good night, Duncan.” She quietly left the stall while she had the strength to do so.
During the following week, Raven did her best to call in on time. She didn’t want to give Duncan any reason to search her out. Si
nce it didn’t get dark until late, he and the ranch hands didn’t stop until they had to. There were times she didn’t hear him on the stairs until after midnight.
No matter how deeply engrossed she was in her work, she’d always hear his footsteps. She’d listen for his pause at the top of the stairs and grow still herself, wondering if he’d come to her room.
He never did.
And afterward she’d feel restless, on edge. And no matter how hard she worked, the thought of Duncan was never far from her mind.
One night she gave in to the need to see him and waited on the front porch. The full moon added to the loneliness she felt. She’d almost talked herself out of waiting when she saw him coming from the barn.
Her lonely heart raced. Even with only the moon, she easily identified him. The wide breadth of his shoulders, his proud carriage, the easy gait. The closer he came, the more dangerous her idea became.
When he was several yards away she stood with the intention of slipping back inside. She turned to flee.
“Raven.”
Caught. She slowly turned back around and waited for him to reach her.
He placed one foot on the steps beside hers, his hand on the rail next to hers. “You all right?”
“Yes. You’re working late.”
She thought she saw his mouth quirk. “Goes with the territory. How are things at the cave?”
“I’m making progress, but it’s slow,” she admitted.
“You’ll get it done.”
His faith in her meant a lot. “Thank you. I should be going to bed.”
He stepped closer, his eyes searching hers. His hand lifted to brush his knuckles down her cheek. Awareness rippled though her. “I think you haven’t been sleeping any better than I have. It doesn’t have to be that way.”
She shivered, wanted. “For me it does.”
“I thought you’d say that, but at least I can have this.” His head lowered, his lips finding hers, as he brought her body flush against his. Fire and need zipped though her. Her arms went around his neck and drew him closer. Her mouth was as ravenous and greedy as his, her tongue as daring.