'TIS THE SEED PLANTED WITH LOVE, FROM WHICH ONE PERFECT FLOWER GROWS....AND LOVE ALWAYS FINDS A WAY:
Raven Eagle, compromised by a white agent invading her village, is sent to live in England with her mother's people. Separated from her siblings, she boards a ship owned by the Lord of Limerick, going to Ireland instead. The threat of the Sea Patrol, for lack of proper passage, arises. To save her from being arrested, the lord agrees to an arranged marriage.
Braiton Shannon, suffering from an inherited illness forbidding intimacy, becomes tormented by his heart's desire to love Raven.
Her courage in the face of danger saves him from death, and she risks her own life to release him from his curse. Raven's spirit and determination spans the globe, from an Apache Reservation to an Irish manor, and she learns that if you are true to yourself, love always finds a way.
All too soon the light of dawn approached the sky and after a quick breakfast of buttered rolls and tea, Raven found herself confined to sit out the boring hours of another day’s ride. It was very late when Silver City came into view. Gabriel helped her and Sunny down from the coach and made his way to the hotel. Lively music blared from a building across the street, and she found herself drawn to its beat. She stopped to listen and saw a man stumble his way out from the doubled doors.
Gabriel reached out and took her arm. “Come, it is time to rest.”
She pointed to the dwelling of interest. “What is there, Gabriel?”
He arched a brow. “Danger, my sister, and no place for a lady.” He pulled her by the hand like a curious child and secured two rooms, parting from them till morning.
No sooner did Sunny place her head upon the pillow; she fell into a sound sleep. Raven guessed the novelty of looking all grown up took its toll on her little sister. The few times she cast a glance Sunny’s way, she also appeared to be miserable in the fancy clothes. She stared up at the ceiling, listening to Sunny’s even breathing. Exhausted as she was, sleep would not come. Not to wake her sister, she crept out of the bed and to the window, looking down at the street below. From her position she could see people coming in and out of the swinging doors, the faint sound of music and laughter rising to her ears. She donned the dress she laid out for the next day’s travel, omitting what went underneath in her haste, and slipped on the shoes. Tying back her hair with a piece of ribbon, she tip-toed from the room and down the stairs to the street below.
She took a deep breath and squared her shoulders before making her way to the curious building. Peering over the doubled doors, she swept a look around the smoke-filled room. Women dressed in bright colored skirts sat on men’s laps, laughing and throwing their hair over their shoulders; their cheeks and lips painted red. In a corner, a man played a tune on the piano and people danced. She smiled, happy to tap her toe in rhythm to the music, until someone grabbed her by the waist and pulled her through the doors, into the smoky confusion of the room. She gasped and looked up into the watery blue eyes of a gray haired man.
He smiled down at her. “Come on, sweetie.” He twirled her around with the music. “Get them purdy legs a movin’.” She pushed him away to free herself from his grasp, but he tightened his hold. “Are ya thirsty, sugar?”
His toothless grin and foul breath reminded her of agent Hall. In her mind’s eye she was again back at the Reservation, enduring the violation of her body. Again she pushed him away, panic rising. “Please, let me go.”
“Sit,” he said, shoving her down into a nearby chair and taking a seat beside her. He handed her a glass. “Drink.” The man raised his own glass and clicked it against hers, sloshing the honey colored liquid over the rim. “Here’s to ya and me, sweetie, and a little fun.” He brought the glass to his slobbering lips and poured the brew down his throat.
She set her glass down on the table and stood.
The bearded man caught her by the arm, pulling her toward him. His cold gray eyes impaled her with their gaze. “Where ya headed, honey? The night’s young.”
She struggled to free herself. “I just want to go. Please, let me go.”
“Not just yet, I won’t,” he bellowed, pulling her down onto his lap.
A crushing fear rose to smother her. “Take your hands off me.”
“Now, now, I ain’t gonna hurt ya none, sweetie.” He caressed her back. “If ya play ya cards right we can both enjoy the night.”
Every bone in her body stiffened. She was ready to scream, scratch, kick, do whatever else it took to get away from the man.
A deep voice snapped from behind. “Let the lady go, Baxter.”
She turned to look straight into the eyes of a tall dark-haired man; his broad shoulders and muscular arms filled the brown jacket he wore. There was an inherent strength in his face, clean shaven, except for a thin mustache sitting beneath an aquiline nose and above a generous upper lip.
“How do ya know she’s a lady, Shannon?” Baxter retorted with a sneer, still holding her on his lap. “And whatcha still doin’ here, thought you were headed back to Houston?”
“When I leave Silver City is none of your concern.” The tall man moved closer to Baxter, his emerald green eyes glaring. He ground out the words through grit teeth. “I said, let the lass go.”
Baxter cursed beneath his breath and pushed her off his lap.
She fell with a thump to the worn, wooden floor. Baxter and the other men at the table laughed at her ungraceful plunge. Her face burned as she stood, but her foot caught on the hem of the skirt, and she hit the floor again. The whole place roared.
The man called Shannon leaned forward and extended his hand. His deep voice, now softer then before, urged her to take assistance. “Please, allow me to help you, lass.”
She accepted, wanting nothing more then to get back to her hotel room. His warm firm hold pulled her to her feet. He smiled, the dimpled cleft in his chin deepening. “‘Twould be my pleasure to see you safely home.”
Her throat went dry. She searched his handsome face, gazing deep into the green of his eyes. “I have no home . . . not here. I am . . . I am,” she stammered, mesmerized by the dazzling display of his straight, white teeth. “I am staying at the hotel across the street.”
He offered her is arm. “Then let’s be getting you back to where you belong.”
She placed a hand on his forearm, inhaling the clean scent of his cologne. “Thank you, most kindly, sir.”
“Are you traveling alone, lass?”
She lowered her eyes. “No, sir. I am with my brother and sister. We are on our way to England and will be leaving on the morning train bound for Houston.”
He frowned. “And let me guess . . . your brother has no idea you’re running about, asking for trouble.”
She raised a defiant chin. “I was not running about asking for trouble.”
He arched a brow. “Aye, lass, you were, the moment you stepped into the saloon. And most likely you would have found it, if I hadn’t come along. `Twas a good thing I decided to have a bit of ale before I moved on.”
Her lips thinned. “Well, I am sorry if I have ruined your plans.”
“Not to worry, lass. I have hired a private coach and the driver doesn’t mind traveling throughout the night. So when I leave is of no concern . . . but I’m a wee bit worried about you.”
“You need not worry further.”
His eyes roamed the length of her. “Didn’t you realize the stir you’d cause half dressed?”
She flushed under his scrutiny. “I am afraid I do not understand, sir?”
“Where’s the rest of your clothes, lass . . . the things that go beneath?”
She cleared her throat. “I am not quite used to . . . to wearing all the things . . . that . . . that . . . and I was in a hurry to see what made the music.” She swallowed hard, mortified. “I do not usually dress like this.”
The genuine concern in his eyes, the gentle tone of his deep voice, left her pulses racing. “Everyman’s eyes were upon you, lass. None of which, I might add, had honorable notions in mind.”
She knew all too well about dishonorable notions. Her cheeks burned with the memory of agent Hall and the dreadful abuse forever marking her soiled. How would she ever be fit to love in a proper way? She cast her eyes to her feet. “You are right, sir.”
He raised her chin with a finger. “I assure you, lass, I speak the truth about the danger you put yourself in.”
His mere touch made her breath catch in her throat.
His emerald eyes caught and held hers. “What’s your name, lass?”
“Raven . . . Raven Amelia Eagle,” she blurted out.
He chuckled. “Ah now, ‘tis a unique name for a unique lass.”
“Not so unique really,” she said. “My father is Chief Proud Eagle of the Western Apache tribe.”
He smiled. “Then you are an Indian Princess?”
She never thought of herself in such a way, but by tradition she was a Princess. She nodded.
He regarded her quizzically. “But your eyes are blue . . . and the manner in which you speak . . .”
“My mother is white,” she broke in. “It is her family I am going to visit in England.”
He searched her face as though he wished to memorize it. “Aye, that explains it, then.”
She realized it was growing very late. If Sunny woke to find her gone, she’d be very worried. “I must go.” Gathering her skirt, she ran up the stairs.
“Wait,” he called after her. With a few strides of his long legs he was soon standing at the foot of the steps, looking up at her. “I meant no offense.”
“None was taken,” she assured him over her shoulder, making her way to the landing. Then she stopped and looked down at him. “Thank you again, sir, for your help. And . . . for your kindness.”
He bowed from the waist. “The pleasure was all mine, Miss Eagle.”
A smile trembled over her lips at his gentleman ways. “May we live to meet again, my friend.”
He gave her a slight nod before she disappeared around the landing.
