Raven laughed softly. “He is rather intimidating, isn’t he? He’s an old friend and overanxious about my health. Believe me, Mrs. Summers, he watches over me very carefully. He really is a respectable businessman; ask anyone in the village.”
“Are you ill, dear?” Margaret asked solicitously, moving closer so that Raven felt threatened.
“Recovering,” Raven said firmly, hoping it was true.
“I have seen you before!” Margaret sounded excited. “You’re that extraordinary young lady who helped the police catch that murdering fiend in San Diego a month or so ago. What in the world would you be doing here of all places?”
Raven rubbed her forehead with the heel of her palm. “That type of work is very draining, Mrs. Summers. It sometimes makes me ill. It was a long chase, and I needed to get far away. I wanted to go somewhere remote and beautiful, somewhere steeped in history. Somewhere people didn’t recognize me and point me out like I was a freak of nature. The Carpathian Mountains are beautiful. I can hike, sit quietly, and let the wind blow all the memories of a sick mind out of my head.”
“Oh, my dear.” Margaret put out her hand in concern.
Raven sidestepped quickly. “I’m sorry; it bothers me to touch people after I follow a demented mind. Please understand.”
Margaret nodded. “Of course, although I noticed your young man thought nothing of touching you.”
Raven smiled. “He’s bossy, and he has such a flair for the dramatic, but he’s really good to me. We’ve known each other a while. You see, Mikhail travels quite a bit.” The lie seemed to roll easily off her tongue. She hated herself for that. “I don’t want anyone to know about me, Mrs. Summers. I dislike publicity and need solitude right now. Please don’t tell anyone who I am.”
“Of course not, dear, but do you think it’s safe to go wandering off by yourself? There are wild animals roaming these parts.”
“Mikhail accompanies me on my little jaunts, and I certainly don’t go poking around in the wilds at night.”
“Oh,” Margaret looked mollified. “Mikhail Dubrinsky? Everyone talks of him.”
“I told you, he’s overprotective. Actually, he likes the landlady’s cooking,” she confided with a laugh, holding up the picnic basket. “I’d better get going or I’ll be late.”
Margaret stepped aside. “Do be careful, dear.”
Raven gave a friendly wave and sauntered unhurriedly along the path that led through the woods, up the footpath into the mountains. Why had she felt compelled to lie? She liked her solitude, never felt the need to justify herself. For some reason she didn’t want to discuss Mikhail’s life with anyone, least of all Margaret Summers. The woman seemed too interested in him. It wasn’t anything she said; it was in her eyes and voice. She could feel Margaret Summers watching her curiously until the path made an abrupt turn and the trees swallowed her up.
Raven shook her head sadly. She was becoming such a recluse, not wanting to be close to anyone, not even a sweet older woman worried about her safety.
“Raven! Wait up!”
She closed her eyes against the intrusion. By the time Jacob caught up with her, she managed to plaster a smile on her face. “Jacob, I’m glad you recovered from that terrible choking spell last night. It was lucky the waiter knew the Heimlich maneuver.”
Jacob scowled. “I didn’t choke on a piece of meat,” he said defensively, as if she was accusing him of bad table manners. “Everyone thinks so, but it wasn’t that.”
“Really? The way the waiter grabbed you…” Her voice trailed off.
“Well, you didn’t stick around long enough to find out,” he accused sulkily, his brows drawing together. “You just let that… that Neanderthal carry you off.”
“Jacob,” she said gently, “you don’t know me; you know nothing about me or my life. For all you know, that man could be my husband. I was very ill last night. I’m sorry I didn’t stay, but once I could see you were fine, I didn’t think it would be appropriate to throw up all over the dining room.”
“How do you know that man?” Jacob demanded jealously. “The locals say he’s the most powerful man in this region. He’s wealthy, owns all the petroleum rights. Quite the businessman; very high-powered. How would you meet a man like that?”