Wild Rain

Chapter Four

THERE were nightmares. One simply ran into the next. Rachael felt she lived in a sea of pain and darkness where nothing made sense but a male voice pitched low as it murmured soothingly to her. The voice was a lifeline, pulling her from the darkness where teeth and claws savaged her body, where bullets whistled by and thudded into bodies and blood flowed and hideous creatures lay in wait to attack her.

Shadows moved in the room. The humidity was oppressive. A cat made a chuffing noise. Another answered with a gruntlike cough. The sounds were close, within a few feet of her. Every muscle in her body reacted, tightening in terror, increasing the pain in her leg. She couldn't move her body and when she turned her head, she couldn't see enough of the room to locate the source of those wild, cat sounds.

Sometimes the wind blew a cooling wave through the room and over her. Always the rain fell. A continual, steady rhythm that both soothed and irritated her. She felt trapped and claustrophobic, confined as she was to the bed.

It was humiliating to have a man see to her every need, especially when most of the time she wasn't certain who he really was. Sometimes she thought she might be insane as the nightmare images of a man shifting into the form of a leopard replayed over and over in her head. There were moments she knew the man, where she was overwhelmed with love and tenderness, and moments when she stared into a stranger's catlike, frightening gaze and her heart pounded with terror. Time passage was impossible to know. Sometimes it was daylight, other times, night, but the one thing she counted on was the voice to steer her through nightmares and help her find her way back to reality.

She stared sightlessly at the ceiling, trying not to be alarmed at the sounds of wildcats so close to her when she couldn't see them. A shadow moved again, across the window, outside on the verandah. Her heart accelerated. The floor creaked.

Rio caught movement out of the corner of his eye and turned as Rachael attempted to slip over the side of the bed. He leapt for her, his hands stilling her struggles. "What do you think you're doing?" Fear made his voice harsh.

She looked directly into his eyes, her fingers clutching at his arms. "They're here. He's sent them to kill me. I have to get out of here." She turned her head away from him to stare eerily into the corner. "They're over there."

Whatever she saw was real to her. She was so intent, it sent a chill shivering down his spine. "Look at me, Rachael." He framed her face with his hands, forced her attention back to him. "I'm not going to let anything hurt you. It's the fever. You see things because of the fever."

She blinked rapidly, her bright eyes beginning to focus on him. "I saw them."

"Saw who? Who wants to kill you?" He'd asked her a dozen times but she never answered him.

She tried to turn her head away from him and remain silent. This time he had her face in his hands, holding her still, locking her gaze to his.

"You have the most beautiful eyes I've ever seen. Your eyelashes are long. Why do men always get beautiful eyelashes?"

She had a way of throwing him off balance, disturbing his tranquility. He found it so exasperating he wanted to shake her. "Do you know how stupid that sounds?" he demanded. "Look at me, woman. I have scars all over me. My nose has been broken twice. I look like a damned murderer, not some pretty boy." The minute the words left his mouth, he regretted them. Damned murderer hung in the air between them. His teeth snapped together and he turned his head away from her enormous eyes, swearing silently over and over.

"Rio?" Her voice was soft. "I can see the pain in your eyes. Did I do that? Did I hurt you in some way? I don't like hurting anyone, least of all you. What did I say?"

He raked his fingers through his shaggy hair. "Of course you have to be perfectly lucid right at this moment. Why is that, Rachael? Two seconds ago you were so far out of it you didn't know your own name."

He looked so tortured her heart turned over. "Did someone accuse you of murder?"

Her gaze moved over his face, examining every inch- all-seeing eyes. He was certain she could see into his soul. Fierce anger smoldered, held deep where it couldn't be seen, burst free, a raging holocaust he couldn't prevent. She should have been afraid. He was afraid. He knew what he could do with that kind of rage, but her expression was compassionate, almost loving. Her uninjured hand went to his face, fingertips trailing over his lips, sliding around his neck so that she was cradling his head, offering, what? He didn't know. Sympathy? Love? Her body? Tenderness?

He ignored his first impulse to slap her hand away from him. He couldn't take her looking at him like that. He caught her fingers instead, pulling her palm to his bare chest, over his wildly beating heart. "You don't know the first thing about me, Rachael. You shouldn't look at me like that." He didn't know what he felt, a mixture of anger and pain and ferocious longing. Damn it all, he was over that. Over wanting. Over needing.

"You don't make sense to me." His voice deepened, sounded almost ragged. "Nothing about you makes sense. Why aren't you afraid of me?"

She blinked. Those huge chocolate eyes, so dark they were nearly black, eyes a man could get lost in. "I am afraid of you."

"Now you're humoring me."

"No, really, I'm afraid of you." Her eyes widened in earnest honesty.

"Well, damn it all, why would you be afraid of me when I've taken care of you and given up my bed for you?"

"You didn't give up your bed. You still sleep in it," she pointed out.

"There isn't anywhere else to sleep," he said.

"There's the floor."

"You want me to sleep on the floor? Do you have any idea how uncomfortable the floor would be?"

"What a baby. I thought you were a he-man." She smirked at him. "Be careful of losing your bad-boy image."

"And what about insects and snakes?"

"Snakes?" She looked around her cautiously. "What kind of snakes? You have kitty cats for friends. I'm hoping you say friendly snakes."

His mouth softened but he kept from smiling with a small effort. "I haven't known too many friendly snakes."

"Where did your kitties come from? And how come they aren't trained to meet guests properly?"

"I trained them to run off the neighbors. I hate it when they drop in unannounced."

A lock of midnight black hair fell across his forehead. Without thinking, Rachael brushed it back with her fingertips. "You need someone to look after you." The moment the words were out of her mouth she was mortified. She couldn't seem to censor her tongue with him. Every random thought just popped out, no matter how personal.

"Are you applying for the job?" His voice was harsh again, emotions welling up to choke him. It was happening again, that strange time distortion. He felt her hand in his and looked down. His hand enveloped hers, the pads of his fingers rubbing back and forth over her soft skin and he knew every indentation. The very shape of her bones was familiar. There was even a memory of doing the same thing, of her teasing voice skittering down his spine like a caress.

Rachael closed her eyes, but he thought he saw the glimmer of tears before she turned her head away. "Tell me why those cats stay here all the time. They are wild, aren't they? Clouded leopards?"

Rio looked across the room to see the two cats tumbling around in a mock fight. Each weighed in at fifty pounds, so when they banged against a chair or table, they made a ruckus.

"Are they pets?"

"I don't keep pets," he said gruffly. "I found them. The mother had been killed and skinned. I backtracked her and found them. They were very young, still needing milk."

She turned her head back toward him, lifting her lashes so her gaze nearly devoured his face. The smile lighting up her pale face nearly took his breath away. "You bottle-fed them, didn't you?"

He shrugged, trying not to be affected by the way she was looking at him. There was that dazzling admiration, a look he didn't deserve. No one ever looked at him, saw him, in the same way she did. It was disconcerting, yet gave him a rush. He spent a great deal of time trying not to allow his body to react, or his heart. He dropped her hand as if it burned him, stepping away from the bed quickly.

She laughed at him, a soft inviting sound that felt like fingers playing over his skin. He was beginning to feel desperate. She lay in his bed, her body lush and tempting, her silky hair spilling around her head like a halo. He wished it were just the allure of her body. That would at least make sense to him. He hadn't been with a woman in a long time. Womanly curves, soft flesh, heat and the fragrance of the forest were a heady combination and he could be excused for his body's fierce reaction to her. But it was far more than that. Knowledge of her body. Memories of her laughter. Whispers in the night, a secret world they shared. His mind and heart reacted to her. And damn it, if he were a man who believed in such nonsense, he would think his soul recognized hers.

"Didn't you?" Rachael persisted. "You found some baby kittens and you brought them home and bottle-fed them."

"I don't believe in skinning animals," he said tersely.

She watched the dull red creep up his neck into his face. The man wasn't in the least embarrassed about traipsing around in the nude but he turned red admitting to an act of kindness. She found that blush endearing. "Why are you always running around with no clothes on? Did I stumble into a secret nudist colony? Or do you think I enjoy staring at you in the butt?"

"You do enjoy staring at me." Rio smiled in spite of himself. She was very open about her appreciation of his body.

Rachael answered him with her usual candor. "Well, I'll admit you're beautiful to look at, but it's beginning to make me uncomfortable. Why do you do it?"

His eyebrow shot up. "It makes it so much easier to shift into leopard form and go running in the forest."

She made a face at him. "Ha ha, are you always this funny? I suppose you're never going to let me live that down. I think it's perfectly logical to have nightmares over men turning into vicious leopards after what happened."

"Vicious leopards?" He rummaged through a small wooden closet and came out with a pair of jeans. "Leopards aren't vicious. They might be natural predators, but they aren't vicious."

"Thanks for making that distinction. I had no idea there was a difference. It felt the same when they were chewing my leg off."

"That was my fault. I was focused on the idea of someone waiting to kill me."

"Why would someone want to kill you?"

He laughed softly. "Now don't you think it seems more logical for someone to want to kill a man like me than a woman like you?"

She wanted to look away from him, but she was fascinated by the play of his muscles beneath his skin. Her breath caught in her throat as she watched him step into the jeans and casually pull them up the strong column of his thighs and over his narrow hips. He carelessly buttoned a couple of buttons and left the rest undone as if it were too much of a bother.

She moistened her suddenly dry lips with the tip of her tongue before she could speak. "Rio, this is your home. I'm the intruder. If you're more comfortable without clothes, I can live with it." It touched her that he would cover up for her-and part of her didn't want him clothed. There was something primitive and sensual about the way he padded so silently through the small tree house, barefoot, in the nude.

"I don't mind, Rachael. You're stuck in bed and I know you hurt like hell. I appreciate that you don't complain." He let a heartbeat slip by. Two. "Much."

"Much!" She glared at him. "I haven't said one word about shooting your precious little kittens when I get off this bed. But I'm considering it. You spoil them rotten, by the way, and it shreds your image of a tough guy all to pieces."

The cats, in the midst of the rough-and-tumble game, slammed into the edge of the bed and all of Rachael's hard-earned bravado disappeared completely. She gasped with alarm and lunged sideways away from them. Rio, standing beside the small closet, covered the distance between them with one leap, pinning her down, his green eyes suddenly a blazing yellow-gold. His face was inches from hers. Rachael stared up at him, clutching the blanket to her bare breasts, looking frightened, trying to look brave, tempting him almost beyond his endurance.

He gathered her into his arms, careful to keep her leg from moving. "You have to keep it in your mind at all times that you cannot move. I've just about run out of antibiotics and that leg can't open up again. Give it a couple more days."

Rachael was all too aware of his naked chest pressed against her breasts, of his hands sliding up and down her back in a soothing motion. Most of all she was aware of the distance he had covered in a single leap. An impossible distance. She tilted her head to look up at him, really examine his features. He had scars, yes. His nose had been broken more than once, but she found him the most compelling man she'd ever met. His eyes were different. More like a cat's.

"You're doing it again." He lifted his chin, breaking eye contact, to rub his jaw along the top of her head. "I can see the fear on your face. Rachael, if I were going to harm you, wouldn't I have done it already?" There was exasperation in his voice.

Rachael winced at his logic. "The cats make me nervous, that's all."

His fingers went to the nape of her neck in a slow massage. "After what you went through, I don't blame you, but they won't attack you. Let me introduce them to you. That would help."

"Before you do, would you mind finding me a shirt to put on? I think I'd feel less vulnerable." And it might keep her body from reacting to his, her breasts aching with longing for his touch. Her leg was a mess, painful and swollen, fever raging, but she still seemed unable to prevent her strange attraction to him. "If your rabid pets decide to have me for dinner the least they can do is work for it by chewing through clothes." His muscles felt like steel rippling beneath very human skin. "How did you do that? How did you get across the room in one leap?" If she were losing her mind, it was better to find out immediately. "I didn't imagine it and it isn't the fever."

"No, your fever's down a bit," he conceded as he helped her ease into a fully prone position. "I live in the forest and have most of my life. I run up and down the branches and jump from one to the other all the time. I climb trees and swim rivers. It's a way of life."

She let her breath out slowly, grateful for the explanation, not wanting to examine the distance too closely. Maybe it could be done. With practice. Lots of practice. She watched him turn away from her to walk across the room back to the closet and she carefully avoided counting each step he took. He padded on bare feet, silent, not making a sound. Raphael watched him stretch, a slow, languid, sinuous catlike stretch. He stretched his hands, fingers spread wide, over his head and ran his hands down the wall. He arched his back to deepen the stretch. His fingertips traced the deep claw marks, something he'd obviously done so many times the crevices were smooth. It was a natural, uninhibited movement.

Rachael's heart slammed in her chest. Were the clouded leopards tall enough to have made those claw marks? She didn't think so. It would take a cat much larger to reach as high as the deep ruts. "How did those marks get inside the house?"

Rio dropped his arms to his sides. "It's a bad habit. I like to stretch and keep in shape." He caught up a shirt, smelled it and turned with a mischievous grin. "This one isn't too bad." He held the blue shirt up for her inspection. "What do you think?"

"Looks good to me." She started to struggle into a sitting position.

"Just wait for me." He slipped the sleeve very carefully over the makeshift splint on her wrist. "You're in, such a hurry." He helped her sit, enfolding her in the shirt, his knuckles brushing soft flesh as he buttoned her into it. There was something satisfying about wrapping her in his favorite shirt, and he felt as if he'd done it a hundred times. "I think your temperature is beginning to climb again, damn it."

She pressed her fingertip over his mouth. "You swear too much."

"I do?" His eyebrow shot up. "I thought I was being very careful around you. The cats don't mind." He snapped his fingers and the two clouded leopards rushed to his side and pressed against his thigh.

Rachael forced herself to remain absolutely still. Her insides turned to jelly, but long ago she had learned the benefits of appearing composed in the face of adversity, so she kept a small smile on her face and serenity in her expression. The rain beat a steady tattoo on the roof. She was very aware of the hum of insects and the rustle of leaves and branches against the side of the house. She swallowed the little knot of fear blocking her throat and inhaled Rio's masculine scent. He smelled of danger and outdoors. "I'm certain the cats don't care, they probably have already picked up your bad habits."

Rio leaned close to her as if sensing her fear, although he rubbed the ears of the cats pressing against his legs. She could see his temple where she'd struck him, a jagged line, already healing, but looking as if it should have had stitches. Before she could stop herself, she touched it. "That's going to scar, Rio. I'm so sorry. You were so busy taking care of me, you didn't really have time to take care of yourself." She was ashamed of herself for hitting him. The details of the attack had faded in comparison to the nightmare images of men turning into leopards.

"Are you going to keep finding reasons not to touch the leopards?" He took her hand. "This one is Fritz. His ear has a little chunk missing and his spots are in a pattern much like a map." He stroked her palm over the animal's neck and back. Her skin was burning again, dry and hot to his touch. Her eyes were glazing, taking on the overbright look he had become accustomed to seeing.

Rachael made a supreme effort to keep from trembling. "Hello Fritz. If you were the one chewing off my leg the other night, please refrain from ever doing so again."

The hard line of Rio's mouth softened. "Nice greeting. I'm certain he'll remember that. This one is Franz. He has a sweet disposition most of the time, until Fritz gets a little rough with him, then he has a bit of a temper. They disappear for days on end, but most of the time they stay with me. I leave it up to them whether they want to stay or go." He pressed her hand into the cat's fur.

Rachael couldn't help the small thrill that went through her at the thought of touching such a wild, elusive creature as a clouded leopard. "Hi, Franz. Don't you know you're supposed to be afraid of humans?" She frowned. "Haven't you considered that by making them pets, you've made them more vulnerable to poachers who want their fur?"

"They aren't exactly tame, Rachael. The only reason they accept you is because my scent is all over you. We sleep together. That's why I'm reinforcing their relationship with you, so no more mistakes. They hide from humans."

"We aren't sleeping together," she objected sharply. "And I don't have a relationship with them and I can't imagine ever having one. Has it occurred to you that you're not exactly normal? This isn't the way most people prefer to live."

Rio looked around his home. "I like it."

She sighed. "I didn't mean to imply it wasn't nice." She moved again, shifting into another position in the hopes of easing the throbbing pain in her leg.

He swept her hair back from the nape of her neck. It was damp with sweat. Rachael was becoming edgy and restless, shifting her position continually in an effort to ease her discomfort. "Rachael, just relax. I'll fix a cool drink for you."

She bit her tongue as he stood up with his casual grace. He didn't mean everything to sound like an order-she was hypersensitive. Rachael tried to push at the heavy fall of hair to get it off her forehead. It was curling in every direction as it always did in high humidity. As she lay there, she swore the walls began to creep inward, boxing her in, pushing the air from the room. Everything annoyed her, from the sound of the relentless rain to the playful leopards. If she had a slipper handy she might have thrown it in a fit of petulance.

Her gaze strayed to Rio as it always did. It exasperated her that she couldn't control herself enough to stop staring at him, and that she knew exactly what he was going to do before he did it. She knew the way he moved, the graceful flow of his body as he reached into the icebox. She knew him. If she closed her eyes he would be there in her mind, talking softly to her, reaching out absently to push the hair from her face, curling his fingers around the nape of her neck.

Why did she associate every single movement, every gesture, with that of a cat? Especially his eyes. They were dilated the way a cat's eyes would be at night and yet in the daylight, the pupils were nearly invisible.

"Okay, there's no way you turned into a leopard." Rachael stared up at the ceiling and tried to work the problem out in her mind. She had to stop fantasizing about him leaping through the treetops with his little cat friends. It was idiotic and just proved she really was pushing the edges of sanity.

"What are you going on about now?" Rio stirred the contents of the glass with a long-handled spoon. "Half the time you don't make much sense."

"I'm not responsible for what I say when I'm running a fever." Rachael winced a little at her tone. She sounded snippy. She was tired. And tired of being tired. Tired of feeling out of sorts and grumpy and sick of trying to figure out what was real and what had taken place in her fevered imagination.

"You could try not saying anything," he suggested.

Rachael winced again. She always talked too much when she was nervous. "I suppose you're right. I could be a stone-faced mute staring at the walls the way you do. We'd probably get along better." Most of all she was ashamed for sniping at him, but it was that or start screaming.

His gaze shifted to her face. She was very flushed, her fingers plucking at the thin blanket with restless pinches. Each time he looked at her, he felt that strange shifting deep inside his body where a part of him still felt emotions. "We get along," he said gruffly. "It isn't you. I'm not used to having people around."

Rachael sighed. "I'm sorry." Why did he have to be so blasted nice when she wanted a rip-roaring fight? It would have been nice to take her frustration out on him and pretend justification. She heaved a long-suffering sigh. "I'm feeling sorry for myself, that's all. I honestly don't know what's going on half the time. It makes me feel stupid." And helpless. She felt so helpless she wanted to scream. She did not want to be trapped in a house with a total stranger who looked every bit as dangerous as he obviously was. "You are a stranger to me, aren't you?" She could feel the heat of his gaze right down to her toes. Why didn't he feel like a stranger? When he touched her, why was it so familiar to her?

His eyebrow shot up. "You're in my bed. I've been taking care of you night and day for a couple of days. You'd better hope I'm not a stranger."

Rachael thumped her head against the pillow in sheer frustration, "See what you do? What kind of answer is that? Did you grow up in a monastery where they taught you to speak in riddles? Because if that's what you're trying to do, believe me it sounds more annoying and idiotic than mysterious and prophetic." She blew upward at her bangs. "My hair is driving me crazy, do you have scissors?"

"Why is it you're always asking me for sharp instruments?"

She burst out laughing. The sound filled the room and startled several birds perched on the railing of the verandah. They took flight with a noisy flutter of wings and a scolding trill. "I feel like I have to apologize to you every other sentence. I broke into your home, used your shower, slept in your bed, bashed you in the head and forced you to take care of me while I'm all out of it and grumpy. Now I'm threatening you with sharp instruments."

"Threatening to cut your hair might hurt as much." He moved across the distance separating them and bent down to look into her eyes, his fingers curling in her hair. "No one can force me to do anything I don't want to do." The one exception might be the intriguing woman lying in his bed, but he wasn't going to admit that to her… or to himself. "Your hair is short enough. You don't need to cut more off." He rubbed the ragged edges of her hair between the pads of her fingers,

"It used to be much longer. But it's so thick, with the humidity it's very hot."

"I'll find something to put it up and get it off your neck."

"Don't bother, Rio, I'm just edgy." His kindness made her ashamed.

"I found wet clothes smelling of river water that night. Were you in the river?"

She nodded, making every effort to rally. "Bandits attacked us. They came out of the jungle shooting guns. I think Simon was hit. I went overboard and the river swept me away."

His muscles clenched in reaction. "You could have been killed."

"I was lucky. My shirt snagged on a branch below the waterline and I managed to crawl onto a fallen tree. I made my way here. The house was a surprise. I almost didn't see it but the wind was blowing so hard, it took away some of the cover. I was afraid I wouldn't find it again if I went exploring so I tied a rope between two trees to show me the way. I thought it was a native's hut, one they use when they travel from place to place."

"And I thought you were a bandit who had circled around and managed to get in front of me and was lying in wait. I should have known better, but I was exhausted and I hurt like hell. Who is Simon?" He had waited an appropriate amount of time. Carried on a conversation like a rational human being. He could feel the intensity of his suppressed emotions eating away at his gut. He knew better than to let her inside. He knew better, but she was already there. He didn't know how it happened and worse, he didn't know how to get her out.

"Simon is one of the men in our church medical relief group."

"So he's a stranger. None of you knew one another before this trip." The relief sweeping through him irritated the hell out of him.

She nodded. "We all volunteered from various parts of the country and came together to bring the supplies."

"Who was your guide?"

"Kim Pang. He seemed very nice and I thought him very competent."

Her hand was on his thigh where he hunkered down close to the bed and she felt him stiffen. His eyes glittered with sudden menace, sending a chill through her body. "Did you see what happened to him?"

She shook her head. "The last I saw of him, he was trying frantically to cut the rope to allow the launch to get away. Is he a friend of yours?" She wanted Kim Pang to be safe. She wanted all of the others to be safe, but it would be dangerous if the guide and Rio were friends.

"Yes, I know Kim. He's a very good man." He wiped his hand over his face. "I have to go out and see if any of them are still alive, see if I can pick up any tracks."

"In this weather? And it's getting dark now. It isn't safe, Rio. They were taken on the other side of the river." She would have to leave immediately. Rachael detested how selfish it made her feel. Of course Rio needed to help the others if he could, although she didn't see how he could accomplish anything against a group of armed bandits.

In a sudden fit of temper at herself, or the situation, she flung off the thin cover. "I need to get out of this bed, this room, before I go completely mad."

"Slow down, lady." Rio caught at her, preventing movement. "Just sit still and let me see what I can do." There was a flicker of knowledge in his eyes, as if he could read her mind and knew her selfish thoughts.

Rachael watched Rio stalk outside and disappear from sight. She could hear him making noise on the verandah, unusual when he was usually so silent. The wind helped to dispel the oppressive heat and claustrophobia, but she wanted to cry, stuck in the bed, unable to get across the small distance to the open doorway. The mosquito net fluttered in the breeze. As always, Rio hadn't lit the light; he seemed to be able to see in the dark and preferred it.

The thought triggered a long-forgotten memory. Laughter, soft and contagious, the two of them whispering together in the rain. Rio swinging her into his arms and spinning in a circle while drops fell on her upturned face. Her breath caught in her throat. It never happened. She would know if she had been with him. Rio was not a man a woman would ever forget or want to give up.

"Come on, I'm going to take you outside. It's raining, but the roof over the verandah has no leaks so you can sit in the open for a while. I know what it's like to feel caged. Let me do the work," he said. He slipped his arms under her legs. "Put your arms around my neck."

"I weigh a lot," she cautioned, obediently linking her fingers behind his neck. Joy was blossoming inside her, a deep glowing warmth bubbling over at the prospect of getting out of the bed, and of looking at open sky.

"I think I can manage," he said dryly. "Be prepared when I lift you, it's going to hurt."

It did, so much so that she buried her face against the warmth of his neck, choking off a startled cry. Pain radiated up her leg, hit the pit of her stomach and exploded throughout her body. Her fingernails dug into his skin and she bit down hard on her thumb.

"I'm sorry, Rachael, I know it hurts," he said softly.

He moved smoothly, almost gliding so there was no jarring to her swollen leg. As he stepped through the door, the natural hum of the forest greeted her. Insects and frogs, the chatter of animals, the flutter of wings and the constant sound of the rain all blended together.

Rio had pulled a soft, overstuffed chair outside, his one prized possession. He placed her carefully in it, propping her leg on a pillow on a kitchen chair. Rachael leaned her head back and took in the high feathery canopy through the fine mosquito netting. The entire verandah was enclosed. The railings were made from tree branches, gnarled and polished, blending in with the surrounding trees so that she couldn't tell where the forest began and the railings left off.

Rio sank onto the chair beside her, holding out the glass of cool liquid. "Drink this, Rachael, it might help to cool you down. In another hour or so, I can give you more meds to help bring down your fever."

She was sweating from the pain more than the fever, but she didn't want to tell him that, not after he'd gone to such trouble. The wind was cooler on her face, tugging at the wild curls in her hopeless mass of hair. She ran her fingers through it before taking the glass from him. Her hand was trembling enough that some of the cool liquid splashed over the rim of the glass. "Rio, tell me the truth." She stared carefully out into the tree trunks and limbs heavily laden with wild orchids of every color. "Am I going to lose my leg?" Everything in her was still, waiting for his answer, telling herself she could handle the truth. "I'd much rather know now."

Rio shook his head. "I can't make promises, Rachael, but the swelling is less. Your fever comes and goes instead of raging all the time. There aren't any more streaks going up your leg so I think we've avoided blood poisoning. As soon as we can, I'll get you to a medic and have them take a look at it. The river goes down fairly quickly."

"I can't go to a doctor," she admitted reluctantly. "No one can know I'm still alive. If they find out, I'm dead anyway."

He watched her lips touch the glass, the contents of the glass tilt, her throat work as she swallowed. He stretched his legs out in front of him, sprawling out as if totally relaxed when he was anything but. "Who wants you dead, Rachael?"

"It isn't really pertinent, is it? I had the presence of mind to shed my shoes in the water. They might be found when they look for me. And believe me, they'll look. They'll hire the best trackers they can find."

"Then they'll come looking for me. Tracking is what I do when I'm not rousting bandits."

Rachael swallowed the sudden fear welling up. "Great. It isn't like I can run from you either. They'll offer you a lot of money to turn me over to them." She shrugged, trying to be casual when she wanted to throw herself off the verandah and run. "Or maybe they'll just ask you to kill me for them. Less trouble that way."

His hand settled on her head. "Lucky for you, I'm not particularly interested in getting rich. I don't need a lot of money living here. The fruit's plentiful and I can easily hunt and trade for the things I need." He rubbed strands of her wavy hair between the pads of his fingers. "I think I have a lazy streak." He grinned at her. "Besides, you swing a mean stick. I don't think I want to mess with you."

"When they ask you, are you going to tell them where I am?"

"Why would I do that when I can keep you all to myself?"

Rachael tipped the rest of the juice down her throat. It was cooling and sweet. She rested her head on Rio's shoulder and allowed herself to relax. The night was incredibly beautiful with so many different types of foliage and trees bowing gently in the wind. The rain played a melody in the background, almost soothing now that she was outside with the breeze blowing. She could see movement in the branches as gliders flitted from one tree to another.

"Are you going to let me guess, or are you just going to keep me in suspense? Why would someone be so intent on killing you?"