Song of the Raven (Daughters of the Prairie 3)
Page 16
“I’d like.”
She bound his hair into a tight braid that reached below the middle of his back, tore a thread from her apron, and tied it. “There we are. All finished.” Ella stood and turned to face him. She gasped.
He had been handsome before, but now, his hair pulled behind him accentuating the high cheek bones of his chiseled face, he was beautiful. “Oh, my.”
“Ella mine,” he said. “May I brush your hair now?”
She nearly lost her footing. He wanted to brush her hair? She had never heard of such a thing. A man brushing a woman’s hair. Really. “I…am not sure that would be proper.”
“Why not? You just brushed mine. It would please me.”
Her feet threatened to give way. Such strong feelings scared her. She wanted him to brush her hair. She wanted him to kiss her. To touch her body. Her bare body.
“Raven, I’m sorry.” She walked briskly to the door of the soddy. “I must go now. I…I shall see you after supper. I’ll bring your meal.”
“Ella.”
“I’m sorry,” she whispered, and rushed out the door and shut it behind her. She leaned against the door, her pulse racing. Her body chilled, and then heated, and then chilled again, and the place between her legs throbbed in time with her heart. Images of his dark skin covering her swept through her mind. Heat, desire, confusion—what was occurring inside her?
“Ella.” Raven’s deep voice carried through the sod and the wood of the door. “I know you are still there. And I know you desire me as much as I desire you. Please do not fear the feelings. They are natural. As natural as the grass beneath your feet, the sun in the sky. I shall see you tonight, my tehila, my love.”
Chapter Five
Raven paced around inside the soddy, his leg burning from the effort. It was nearly sunset and Ella had not come. What if something had happened to her? A weight settled in his stomach and his heartbeat thudded. He could not lose her, not now that he had finally found her.
But what if he could not convince her to go with him, to his home, his life?
He knew other warriors who had loved white women. They had stopped at nothing. Some had stolen their brides.
A ribbon of possessiveness threaded through him. So would he, if it came to that.
He hoped it would not come to that.
He jumped when the door opened and Ella appeared. Relief coursed through him in a warm tingle. He pulled her to his chest and smothered her in an embrace.
“Goodness, Raven. What has gotten into you?”
“You did not come. I feared for your safety.”
“I’m fine.” She set down the basket she carried. “Papa brought home guests for dinner, a couple of lost sheep, and I couldn’t leave until they were gone.”
“You brought sheep to your house for dinner?” Raven furrowed his brow. What did she mean?
“You silly goose,” Ella said, her smile lighting up her face. “A lost sheep. A lost lamb. It means someone who needs help. For whatever reason. In the case of these two men, they sought Papa out in town. They’ve become bored of the gold rush and are searching for something more…I don’t know…meaningful.” She chuckled. “Ripe for the picking, as Papa would say.”
Raven was still puzzled. “Perhaps you are the jokester now, tehila.” He smiled. Her beauty mesmerized him. “Sheep for dinner. And I am a goose? And do you speak of fruit? What is ripe to be picked? I have spoken the language of the white man for half of my life, but you do not make any sense.”
“Can I explain it all later? I’m sure you must be starving. Let me feed you.”
“To be fed from your hand, tehila, would please me greatly.”
“I wasn’t speaking literally. Goodness.” She pulled out a loaf of bread and a tin of blackberries. “I promised you more blackberries,” she said, handing him the tin. “And I have a treat for you.” She rummaged in the basket and pulled out a cloth. “It’s chicken. My mother breaded it and fried it in the renderings from salt pork. It’s delicio
us. You’ll love it.”
Raven unspread the cloth and regarded the pieces of meat. He inhaled. The scent was strange, but not unpleasant. “Many thanks. I shall enjoy it.”
“I know you will.”