“I’m messy.”

A ghost of a smile curved her mouth. “You think that’s news to me?”

“I was hoping you hadn’t noticed.”

Her smile widened. “It’s impossible not to notice. You like soaking dishes in the sink. It drives me crazy. What’s the point of soaking them? Why don’t you just do them? You’ve already gone to the trouble of scraping them and rinsing, you might as well get it over with.”

“There’s a perfectly logical explanation,” he said. “To wash the dishes in hot water, I have to actually use the gas or the wood. It’s more economical to wait and wash a bunch together. Hauling gas in is a pain. I use it sparingly.”

She made a face at him. “I suppose I’ll have to concede the point.”

He stood up, filling the room immediately with his wide shoulders and powerful presence. “Do you want to move, Rachael?” He had spent years building his house and the underground storage hidden beneath it. The water system had been difficult to hide. He had everything he wanted in that house, but they had no amenities. If she wanted all the things necessary in modern living, he would have to build a house closer to the protection of the village where they could have a generator. So far from protection, the noise and smell of a generator was too dangerous, a complete giveaway to Tomas and anyone else chasing him.

“Move?” Rachael gripped the edge of the door and turned back to look at him with her enormous eyes.

“Why would you want to leave this beautiful house? The carvings are extraordinary. I love this house. I don’t think there’s any reason to move.”

“We don’t have a decent cooler most of the time. Hauling ice is nearly impossible, unless I get it from the village, and I rarely shop there.”

“Your system works quite well. I don’t think we’ll starve.”

“You might not feel that way when the kids start coming.”

Rachael stepped backwards out the door, laughing at him. “Kids? They’re going to start coming our way, are they?”

He stalked her, following her onto the verandah and pinning her against the rail. “I think there’s bound to be lots of kids,” he murmured. His hands came up to cup the soft weight of her breasts. He rubbed his shadowed jaw over her sensitive skin, gently over her peaking nipples. “Marry me, Rachael. We can’t use the ritual ceremony of our people, but Kim’s father can marry us.”

“It isn’t necessary. I know we’re married already.”

“I know it isn’t necessary, but I want to marry you. I want to feel my child growing inside of you someday. I want it all with you.” He lowered his mouth to her breasts, suckling gently, so that she arched her back and thrust into him, holding his head while he feasted on her. The rain began a slow drizzle and the wind blew endlessly but up high, in their own world, it all seemed perfect.

She lif ted her face to look up at the gently falling rain while fire burst through her veins and sizzled and danced over her skin. “How many children are a lot?” Her fingers tangled in his hair. “Are you thinking two, three? Give me a number.” She tried to listen to the songs of the rain the way he’d instructed. It was such a medley of sounds, never the same, ever changing, all of it seeping into her veins like a drug. Like the fire he produced with the hot silk of his mouth with the heat of the forest pressing in on them.

Rio straightened, held her in his ar ms. Just held her to him. “We can have a houseful, Rachael. Little girls to look like you. With your laughter and your courage.”

She wrapped her arms around him, sank deep into his hard frame. “And with all those little children running around, how are we going to manage times like these?”

Living with Rio was a sensual adventure. Her body always seemed ripe and ready, never sated for long no matter how often he touched her. She wanted more. Wanted him a million times, a million ways.

She wrapped her leg around his waist, pressing her hot, slick body against him suggestively. Her fingers tunneled in his hair, her teeth nibbled his ear, his shoulder, anything she could reach.

“We’ll find a way. We’ll find a million ways.”

Rio lifted her, so that she could wrap both legs around him, so that she could settle over his body, fitting sword to sheath. He rested her against the railing and they looked at one another, locked together. Rachael leaned forward and buried her face against his neck. They clung to one another, holding tightly.

He whispered to her words of love in the language of his people.Sestrilla. Beloved one.Hafelina .

Small cat.Jue amourasestrilla. I love you for all time.Anwou Jue selaviena en patre Jue. In this time and in all other time.

She heard the words, recognized them although she couldn’t respond in kind. The vocalization was a mixture of notes a feline used. She knew them, recognized them and found them beautiful, but she couldn’t produce them exactly. Rachael lifted her head and looked at him. At his face. His eyes. His mouth. “I love you too, Rio.”

As fierce as his lovemaking could be, as wild and rough as he was at times, he was infinitely tender.

Kissing her with such tenderness tears welled up. His body moved in hers with deep, sure strokes, striving always for her pleasure. His hands worshipped her, shaped every curve, slid over her skin as if memorizing every detail.

He took his time, long slow strokes designed to burrow deeper, to fill her with his love. As the fever pitch rose, as they climbed together, the white mist swirled around them, as if they had created steam with the intensity of their heat. She dug her nails into his back and threw back her head, moving her hips in an answer ing rhythm, a dance of love, there on the verandah with the scent of orchids enfolding them and the breeze touching their bodies like fingers. All the while the rain came down, droplets of silver as the night settled in.