Free Warrior by Elizabeth Lowell Page B

food rather than on Rocking M beef, but I couldn’t prove it even though I spent a lot of time chasing cats when I should have been chasing cattle. So I took some of the money from the gold mine Mariah found and told the university to find an expert who could study our cougars without drugging or harassing them.”
    “I won’t drug the cats,” Eden said. “But having Baby on their trail might constitute harassment.”
    Nevada’s mouth shifted subtly beneath his beard. He reached down and ruffled the wolf’s sleek fur. Baby leaned into the touch, enjoying it.
    “Dogs have been chasing cats at least as long as men have been chasing women,” Nevada said, giving Eden a brief, sidelong look. “I think the cats might even get a kick out of a good race. Cougars will run like hell, but once they’re up in a tree, they relax. Hell, I’ve seen more than one cougar curl up for a nap in some tall timber while a pack of hounds went crazy barking down below.” Frowning thoughtfully, Nevada turned away from scratching Baby’s ears. “That reminds me – does Baby ever bark?”
    “Rarely.”
    Nevada’s mouth flattened. “Then you’ve got the wrong hunting dog no matter how good Baby’s nose is. A cougar will run from a barking dog, even if it’s no bigger than a Scottish terrier. But a dog that doesn’t bark will be attacked, no matter how big it is.”
    “Don’t worry. Cats are the exception to Baby’s code of silence. When he’s on a hot cat trail, Baby makes more noise than a pack of foxhounds.”
    “Good.” Nevada looked around the room, which was neat once more. “That leaves just one other thing to settle before we go hunting. Who’s Mark?”
    Eden looked up, surprised by the sudden edge in Nevada’s voice. “What?”
    “Baby’s wrestling partner,” Nevada said flatly. “The man who broke his arm.”
    “Oh. That Mark. He’s my brother.”
    Nevada grunted. “How many Marks do you know?”
    “Just two.”
    Nevada waited, watching Eden with pale green eyes as she stacked the last piece of firewood, stood up and dusted her hands on her pants.
    “The second Mark was my fiancé for a time,” she continued. “Then he discovered that being lifelong friends wasn’t the same thing as really wanting a woman. He took one look at Karen and knew something important had been missing from our relationship. They were married a month later.”
    Nevada had had a lot of practice reading people. He saw no indications of distress in Eden as she talked about her broken engagement. Her voice was even, supple, almost amused. Not at all the way it had been when she had discussed flu turning into pneumonia.
    “You sound like you didn’t mind losing Mark to another girl,” Nevada said, walking slowly across the room toward Eden.
    “I didn’t lose him. We’re still friends.”
    Skepticism showed in the arch of Nevada’s black eyebrows. Eden watched with widening eyes as he came closer and then closer still, not stopping until he was so close that she could feel the heat from his big body.
    “It’s true,” she said, puzzled by Nevada’s intensity. “Mark and I are still friends.”
    “Then you were never lovers.”
    Eden made a soft, startled sound deep in her throat. “How did you know?”
    “Easy. Once a man had you, he’d want you again with every breath he took.” Nevada shrugged, but the silver-green intensity of his eyes didn’t diminish. “Which means Mark never had you, because he let you go.”
     
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    The elemental harmonics of a wolf’s howl shivered over the land before dissipating on the wind. Nevada froze, listening with every fiber of his body. The sound came again, rising and falling, a song sung to the primal memories that existed in every human soul. The eerie ululation faded into the wind. Silence reigned once more.
    “A wolf’s howl has to be one of the most beautiful sounds on earth,” Nevada said in a hushed voice.
    Eden didn’t disagree. She had heard only one thing