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
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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
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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.”