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CHAPTER ONE

Leather clad fingers brushed against her cheek, tracing a soft line down to her chin
before his strong hand cupped her face. "Have hope, my lass."

Hope, how could she have hope? Her life, her freedom and her virtue had all been stolen
from her in the blink of an eye. Yet there he stood, just as he had that day in Ireland,
his face hidden behind the scarf yet a world of promise offered in his dark gaze. She
could see the outline, just a hint of promise, of his lips beneath the scarf. Lips that
she knew could light a passion within her soul at a single touch. "I`m a long way
from home, Raven."

"Look around you, what do you see?"

Her gaze tore away from his face, searching through the mist that clouded her thoughts.
Just a dream, she knew that before he had even spoken. Sooner or later she would awaken in
the cage Davien locked her in at the end of every night, or whenever it suited him to do
so.

Home. Her mind showed her the home she had known, the world that had been her safety
before Lord Blood and his random attack. The cage was gone, chains no longer existed, she
even felt the simple dress caress over her body, wrapping her in a protection that had
been denied for too long now.

The farm, the smell of the cows and the fields, even the distant sound of her sister. It
was all here.

"I`m home," she murmured.

"You always will be, my lass. Just as long as you don`t give up. Keep Ireland in
your heart, keep your family close, the memory of that single kiss and he will never truly
win." His thumb brushed over her lips, silencing her protests. "As long as you
remember that then you will always be my moon touched lass. He`s just an Englishman, not
worthy of you."

His dark eyes, the lilt behind his words, the hint of firm lips behind the dark kerchief.
She had felt them once, dreamed about his touch time and again, each time she slipped into
the welcome embrace of these images her mind added a little more to the fantasy world
where she now sought sanctuary.

The kiss, her lips tingled at the memory of his brief touch. Such a small thing, the way
he had held her, teased his tongue into her mouth, claiming her in a moment of passion
that even now brought a heat to life between her thighs. She craved the tender, yet firm
passion of that encounter. A man, a real man so unlike the one that now held her captive.
For him, for this Raven, she would have gladly sacrificed her virginity. Yet, she no
longer held such a jewel of a gift to offer him. Both her freedom and her maidenhead both
stolen by the English Lord who had snatched her from the road.

Even his words felt right. So many of the men and women she had grown up with thought
that about their neighbors and unwanted lords. Yet how many also signed up to serve in the
English army? That part had never made sense to her.

"My moon touched lass." He leaned close, the cloth of his kerchief brushed
against her lips.

Had he called her that, in the brief moment of their meeting?

No, nor had he proclaimed her to be his lass.

This was nothing more than the dream of a beaten woman, an escape from the nightmare that
her life had become.