Soul of a Crow Read Online Free Page A

gripped his ears and rested my forehead against his for the space of several heartbeats, studying his eyes at close range. My long hair fell all around us.
    â€œYou blinked first,” he murmured, teasing me further.
    â€œI did not,” I retorted in a whisper.
    â€œWhat in tarnation is taking you-all so long? We got dinner cooking!” Malcolm informed impatiently, still directly outside our tent and no more than five feet from us.
    â€œGoddamn, boy, leave them two alone,” Boyd ordered, and I smiled to hear the customary note of affectionate irritation in his tone as he addressed his younger brother.
    Hungry as I was, I was not yet ready to be pulled from my preoccupation with Sawyer; I traced my fingertips in a beloved path along his handsome face, touching his cheekbones, sunburned to a deep golden-brown, his jaws and chin, my thumbs caressing the lines of his eyebrows in passing, the shape of his sensual mouth. He shivered, catching my hands into his much larger ones and kissing each palm.
    â€œYou did blink first,” he whispered, and I was unable to keep from smiling at him.
    â€œLorie,” he murmured. Studying my eyes, he told me without words, I am so happy to be here with you, like this .
    It is a gift , I thought in return, and knew that he heard; it had been that way between us from the first.
    â€œI got a surprise!” Malcolm insisted, still nearby, and I could not help but giggle; Sawyer grinned, tenderly kissing the side of my neck, stroking lightly with his tongue, as I shivered and indulged in being sheltered against him for one last, sweet second.
    â€œI wish to see you eat well,” he said firmly, drawing us to our feet; standing, my nose was at a level with the center of his chest. He donned his dry muslin shirt, tucking it into his trousers and buttoning his suspenders into place with the easy motions of one not at all concerned with a fastidious dressing routine. He slipped the suspender straps over his shoulders and then swept back his thick hair, holding a leather thong he’d grabbed from the ground between his teeth, before retying it deftly into place around his hair. He knew I had been unable to eat much of late; my ribs were more prominent than they had been at the beginning of June.
    â€œI will,” I assured him, and he stroked my face, bestowing a final kiss before ducking outside. Sawyer was thoughtful to a fault, allowing me as much privacy as he could manage when we shared a space scarcely large enough for two adults, so careful to give me the chance to recover from what I had been through in Missouri; until I was fully healed and we were properly joined in marriage, he would not seek anything physical beyond kissing me and holding me close as we slept, this I knew well. It did not, however, alter for so much as an instant the intensity of awareness between us that existed from the first days we had known one another.
    Outside, Malcolm immediately claimed his attention; a smile tugged at my heart as I buttoned into a skirt and then knelt to root out my comb.
    â€œSawyer,” the boy said. There was a note of reprimand in his tone and I listened with interest as my fingers flew, re-braiding my hair. Malcolm went on, as though addressing a naughty child, “You ain’t got your boots on, an’ you’s always harping on me for it.”
    I imagined Sawyer ruffling Malcolm’s shaggy dark hair. He replied calmly, “That’s the truth. My socks haven’t finished drying, that’s all. Though I do appreciate your concern.”
    â€œWhere’s Lorie-Lorie?” Malcolm all but demanded, referring to me by his usual nickname. Each of them had a particular way of addressing me; Boyd called me ‘Lorie-girl,’ and to Sawyer I was ‘Lorie-love’ or mo mhuirnín milis , one of the Irish endearments he favored. My heart swelled with love for them, all three.
    â€œI’ll be out directly,” I