“Sure you do. You know I went to college, I make bags and that some people pay way too much money for them. You even know I was married. What else is there to know?”
“And when were you going to tell me about that, huh? For all I know, you’re secretly a serial killer, Jonathan. Go to hell.” In slow motion, she walked away from him.
And right toward a sinkhole. “Madeline—stop!” But he was too late. In a heartbeat, she disappeared under the water, leaving nothing more than an errant ripple in the water. It was like she’d never even been there.
Couldn’t she swim? Maybe not. Maybe the current had her. Oh, shit. Without thinking, he ducked under the murky water and grabbed for her. And came up empty. She was slipping through his fingers just as surely as the water was.
Panic struck at him. Where was she? The river would keep her, if it wanted. But that wasn’t what he wanted, not by a long shot. No. Not her. Not now.
He kept grabbing, kept coming up empty. Finally, after what was probably no more than ten seconds, but ten seconds that took five years off his life, he got hold of her arm and hauled her to the surface.
Sputtering, she spit water in his face before she choked down a tortured breath. “Madeline! Are you okay?” Please, please be okay, he prayed. Just be okay.
She threw her arms around his neck. Her whole body was shaking. “Don’t let go, Rebel,” she pleaded as she coughed up more of the river. “Don’t let go of me.”
She was okay. Scared, and probably about a minute from worrying about dysentery again, but otherwise okay. Relief surged through him. No matter what, she was okay, and he’d keep her that way. He hugged her to his chest as he silently thanked the river for giving her back. “I won’t. I promise.”
Nodding into his neck, she coughed a few more times. But then she relaxed in his arms a little.
And he remembered they were both naked. And holding each other. And there were no zippers to intrude on anything this time around. Each part of hers was pressing into each matching part of his.
Holding tight, he shifted her so both of her legs trailed off to one side, so he was holding her like he held Nelly when she wanted him to spin her around. One arm under her shoulders, the other around her waist. Safer this way. She didn’t let go of his neck, though, didn’t demand he unhand her this instant. She just let his arms hold her against his chest, let her hand rest on his shoulders.
He found himself spinning in slow circles, letting the river get to know her, letting her get to know the river. Dancing, in a way, to the music of his land. The water burbled by in apology for scaring her, while the wind shushed through the grasses with a murmuring calm. Peace filled him.
It was working on her too. He could tell that, despite the dunking, she was doing better. Her skin was much cooler to the touch and she’d calmed down. In fact, she was letting her toes peek out of the water as they went around and around. After a while—he didn’t know how long, and he didn’t care—he felt all the steel leave her body as she let him and the water carry her.
Suddenly, this position didn’t feel any safer. His left hand was on her ribs, just below her breast. His other hand was in the small of her back, itching to get back to where it had been headed earlier. He willed his hands to be still on her skin. He was just helping her cool down. He was just making sure she was comfortable in the water. He was just helping a friend. That’s all. He was not going to find out what secrets her body was ready to give up. He was not going to push her. He was not going to do anything with Dr. Madeline Mitchell.
Nothing she didn’t want, anyway.
Soon enough, her calm passed. “Tell me about it.” Instead of anger or frustration, instead of the superior pissiness that was her second nature, she sounded contemplative. She wasn’t pulling. She was just asking.
“Which part?”
One hand left his shoulder and trailed down his chest until it reached the water, where it joined her toes in having a nice time. The slow suction of her breast pulling free from his chest almost sent him to his knees. Without even trying, she was going to bring him to his knees. “All of it.”
Goose bumps danced up and down his skin—an involuntary reaction, and one he hadn’t had in a long time. What he wouldn’t give to see if she had any, but he’d promised. Damn it. To keep temptation at bay, he rested his chin on the top of her head. “Albert had a vision when I was born.”
She jumped in shock, but said, “Really?” like it was no big deal.
White people. They never believed in the spirit world, except when it was convenient for them. He chuckled into her hair. “Really. He is a powerful man. Who just happens to have a job mopping floors.”