Raven and the Cowboy: A Loveswept Historical Romance by Sandra Chastain Page A

whatever a man said at the same time they were deciding how to kill him. They’d learned this from the whites. They’d had to in order to survive. But not Raven. She was truly innocent.
    Now two sets of intruders were stalking them. And Raven would be the focus of their attention once they learned that she held the key to the discovery of the treasure.
    “You’re safe. For now, Swift Hand doesn’t know where we are,” he finally said, trying to focus on her fear and not the ever growing awareness of his own body. Damn it to hell, she fit into his arms as if the space had been made for her form. He understood that she didn’t know what she was doing when she rubbed her breasts against his chest, when she leaned her head back to look up at him and by that movement thrust her pelvis against him.
    Tucker groaned and tightened his grip on her arms. His lips moved against her hair, drifting lower until he found her lips. They parted beneath the pressure of his touch, allowing their mouths to merge, to join, to bond.
    He could hear her breathing change, feel her heart fluttering even as he told himself to pull back.
    But he couldn’t help himself, and in her innocence, she didn’t stop him. Her lips parted, taking his tongue inside her mouth as she rocked against him.
    Drawing on one last sliver of control, Tucker lightened his kiss, softly caressing her back and arms as he withdrew. Finally they were separated, standing only inches apart, staring at each other as if they were strangers.
    “Tucker?”
    “It’s all right, Spirit Woman. I never should have kissed you. I was wrong.”
    “Why? It seemed right. I liked it, the way we feel together. Is this not a good thing?”
    “This is
not
a good thing, my trusting one. We have a band of wild Indians looking for you and a gang of Mexican bandits looking for me. We have to get Luce and leave here.”
    “Luce can’t be moved, Tucker. He’s very near death.”
    She looked up at him, worry bringing moisture to her eyes. Her concern melted all the distance he’d managed to put between them.
    She could only stare at him as his fingertips left her shoulders and lightly brushed her cheek. Her skin was so sensitive to his touch that he overwhelmed her. Even the soft buckskin of her dress seemed to grate against her flesh. His male scent heightened her awareness with every ragged breath she drew.
    A steady thud began to pound in her temple, and Raven knew that she had to push him away. She gasped as she stepped back. But distance didn’t stop the writhing of her insides.
    She didn’t know how she could draw strength from this man who seemed to take their journey reluctantly, or why, beneath the uncertainties, the promise of fire was there, igniting at their slightest touch.
    The promise of fire. Raven trembled and pulled her gaze to the ground beneath his feet. She had to get her emotions under control. There was something more importantthat she must do. “Luce,” she said in a low voice. “We’d better get back to him.”
    “Yes. We’ll stay until the end. Then we’d better get out of here. All that business about finding a rock with a mark like the sun on your ceremonial bag sounded good, but if there’s a mark like that around here, I haven’t seen it.”
    “It’s here,” Raven insisted. “We have to find it.”
    “And if we don’t, then what? We can’t fool around here looking. The area is getting too crowded. We’ll have to go. Later, maybe, we can return and search.”
    “But what if Swift Hand finds the treasure?”
    “He won’t. Whether I believe in spirits or not, it’s pretty clear that you’re the key to the location. If it’s to be found, we’ll find it. But it won’t do your people much good if we die in the process.”
    “We will not die, Tucker.”
    Adroitly he turned her and, with his hand on her shoulder, pushed her ahead of him down the trail. “How can you be so sure? I’m not.”
    “Because it was meant to be. Because we were