“Or elevating me to that status.” He had no idea where the words came from, or that teasing, familiar tone. He was always gruff and surly with strangers, yet Rachael didn’t feel like a stranger to him. He dipped the cloth in the bowl of water and allowed it to trace the soft swell of her breast. Even that felt familiar to him. He knew her body intimately. He knew there would be a small birthmark right above her buttocks on the left side if he turned her over. He knew the feel of dipping his tongue into her enticing belly button and making a slow foray lower. He knew exactly what she would taste like. It was in his mouth, a honeyed spicy tang that always left him craving more.

“Do you know me, Rachael?” He leaned close, his gaze capturing hers. “When you look at me, do you know me?”

She flung out her hand so that her fingertips rested intimately on his bare thigh. “Why do you ask me that? Of course I know you. I love just lying in bed with you, your arms around me, listening to the rain. Listening to the sound of your voice and the stories you tell.” Her smile was far away, dreamy. “It’s always been my favorite thing to do.”

She was burning up with fever. Her body was so hot to his touch he was afraid the cloth was going to burst into flames. He bathed her wrists and the back of her neck, beginning to feel desperate. The wind cooled the room but her body was flushed a bright red. Her leg was a mess, swollen and infected, blood oozing from the wound. His stomach lurched.

“Rachael.” He said her name in despair. Her palm was burning a hole through his skin where it rested.

“You’re afraid for me.”

“Yes,” he answered honestly. Because he was. For both of them. He was as confused as she was. Abruptly he rose and prowled across the room to stand in the open door. The wind was dying down, a lull before the next wave hit. He was moody and restless and uncomfortable in his own home. The forest beckoned, the treetops swaying, leaves nearly silver as they rustled all around him with their own strange melody. He found the sound soothing in the midst of his uncertainty.

Rio knew Rachael intimately, yet he’d never laid eyes on her. Certain things were familiar, more than familiar, nearly a part of him, like breathing. He pushed a hand through his hair, needing the peace of the jungle.

Rachael’s gaze followed him wherever he went. “Look.” He didn’t turn around, didn’t want to meet the blatant appreciation in her gaze when she looked at him. He didn’t like the fact that the heat between them was a tangible thing when she was so obviously ill.