Free His Wicked Dream (Velvet Lies, Book 2) by Adrienne deWolfe Page A

she'd come to love the copper-skinned Medicine Woman who'd shared his bed, just about everyone else who learned of Papa's affair with Talking Raven had spurned them like lepers. Eden often suspected that was the real reason Papa kept traveling from town to town, although she'd never once doubted his commitment to helping the sick and crippled in the clapboard villages they'd visited.
    The old grief stirred as she recalled those years in the medicine show. For as long as she could remember, she'd heard nothing but praise for the foxglove remedy her father prescribed for his patients' heart palpitations. She refused to believe her last twenty-five years had been filled with lies. She wanted to vindicate Papa, to prove that Andrew Mallory was a good doctor.
    But Claudia wouldn't touch the remedy, and Eden was terrified of offering it to anyone else. She didn't want a repeat of that dreadful Silverton experience. She wasn't the risktaker Claudia was—or that her mother had been, for that matter. Unlike Lacey Mallory, who'd delighted in stunts such as snowshoeing through avalanche country or chasing wild mustangs through Indian Territory, Eden wanted to live to a ripe old age.
    A furtive creaking broke her reverie.
    Eden started, spilling some of the syrup of onion that she'd just finished measuring for Mr. Puppy's tonic. Had she heard a footstep in the back room?
    She listened uneasily. A minute, perhaps two, dragged by. She heard only silence.
    How strange.
    She was just about to turn her attention back to capping and labeling the remedy when Stazzie loosed a yowl that made every hair on her head stand on end.
    "Stazzie?"
    Hissing and spitting erupted from Claudia's storage space. Next came a metallic crash that sounded suspiciously like canned goods. Eden hurried to the rear. Pushing back the curtain, she stepped across the threshold and froze.
    There before the chaos of dented tins and toppled shelves crouched Collie. Barefoot and defiant, he glared at her through straggly blond hair. In his left hand, he held a ten-inch knife. In the right, he grasped the nape of Stazzie's neck. The cat was flailing for all she was worth. Collie was panting.
    "M-my cat," Eden managed weakly, noticing how the boy's blade pointed expertly in her direction. "What are you going to do?"
    "Eat it."
    She swallowed, unnerved to hear such a gruff, uncompromising tone in a beardless youth.
    "But she's my pet."
    "Looks like it's time to get a dog."
    Stazzie mewed piteously. Collie bared his teeth, looking ferocious.
    "Um..." Eden did her best to breathe normally. The quarters were cramped, and the shelf he'd knocked over was barring his retreat to the alley. He had nowhere to go but forward. Through her.
    She tried not to think about that.
    "I don't mean to be difficult, but I'm rather fond of that cat. Not as a meal," she added quickly. "As a companion."
    He didn't look the least bit sympathetic. She thought fast.
    "Are you hungry?"
    This time, she saw the flicker of interest in those burning gray eyes. He tossed the hair off his forehead.
    "Why?"
    "Well..." She gestured carefully behind her. "I have some fried chicken and a cherry pie in a picnic basket behind the front counter. Aunt Claudia and I were going to eat them for dinner, but you're welcome to them. I suspect they'll taste a whole lot better than Stazzie."
    Collie grunted. It was a noncommittal sound that didn't bolster her confidence. Even so, he wanted to eat. And God help him, he needed to.
    The boy was alarmingly thin, his cheekbones protruding beneath the canyons of his eyes, which themselves were rimmed with shadow. His Adam's apple jutted above skeletal shoulders, and his elbows looked too knobby for his arms. With each breath, his faded red gingham sank into a concave abdomen, and his dungarees would have fallen clean off his hips if his belt hadn't been double-cinched.
    Eden suspected he carried some intestinal parasite. At the very least, he was dehydrated and malnourished. Yet for