She felt Rubin’s presence before he actually reached her. He did something to her body. Usually, when she was close to other human beings, the energy fed the electrical charges in hers until she was so completely overwhelmed, she had to get away from everyone. Her core temperature would rise and she’d feel sick. Her skin would become prickly and tiny sparks would zap her all over. With Rubin, none of that happened. Well—unless she kissed him. Then it happened in a good way.
She caught up her sketch pad and bent over it, dashing at the tears on her face, hoping he wouldn’t be able to catch the way she was blushing at the thought of kissing him, or the silly tears, or the fact that she was pretending. She glanced up through wet and spiky lashes. Did he have to be so utterly gorgeous?
He flashed her a grin and her heart immediately felt as though it skipped a beat. His smile faded and she hastily looked down at her blank sketch pad. He stepped closer and caught her chin between his finger and thumb, seemingly completely unaware of personal space. Tipping her head up, he studied her face.
His other hand came up, fingers moving with exquisite gentleness, and brushed at the tears, and then followed the tracks down her cheeks. “What made you cry, little lightning bug?”
A million thoughts crowded in. It wasn’t his business. A sarcastic reply. A joke. Anything but the truth. Jonquille didn’t say any of those things. “I heard a cry like a child in distress and for some reason it brought the past too close. I don’t usually allow myself to go backward like that, but the memories just swept over me before I could shut that door.”
Rubin brushed his hand very gently down the back of her hair and it felt too much like caring. When she was really little, the older girls had brushed her hair and treated her like a little doll, but then the buildup of energy had begun and they couldn’t do that anymore. She’d watched them brush each other’s hair and she’d been envious. She’d tried very hard not to be, but she couldn’t help it. Having Rubin just use his palm and sweep his hand over the back of her scalp so gently tore at her heart. She didn’t know what to do with that kind of gesture.
Jonquille knew she wasn’t a woman who would ever have a home and family. This gentle, brilliant man whom Whitney had paired her with had the soul of a healer, the intellect of an Einstein and the fierceness of a warrior. He was everything a woman like Jonquille could possibly want or need yet could never have. She wanted to scream at the universe for such a betrayal.
“We all have those moments, Jonquille. I have them every single time I first arrive at the cabin. I remember each loss I suffered here and wish I had a do-over. I was a kid and doubt I would be able to change the outcome, but I always think I somehow would be wiser.”
“Why do we do that to ourselves?”
“I don’t know, sweetheart, but everyone does it.”
He bent his head and her heart pounded. His lips were soft as he brushed kisses over her eyelids and along the tracks her tears had taken. “I love this time of the day. Sunset. Sunrise. Magical times. There’s a reason those times are magical.”
“You’re supposed to be catching up on your sleep.” Her brain was short-circuiting. That was all she could think to say because tenderness lit his dark eyes and sent her temperature soaring. There were sparks, and none of it had to do with electrical energy.
“I got plenty of sleep. Come on, but you have to stay quiet and we have to stay downwind.”
She nodded and shoved her sketch pad into the pack on her back. Truthfully, she’d follow him anywhere. It was that scent he had on his skin. It was faint, but it was there. How had she missed it when she’d first stepped into the cabin? Every time she inhaled, she seemed to take him deeper into her lungs. That scent of red spruce, faint orangey citrus combined with leather and earth. He moved like he was part of the mountain, of the forest, of the land itself.
It was more than the scent on his skin. It was the way he could be so gentle when he touched her. He was alone with her, but he didn’t push himself on her. Walking behind him where he couldn’t see, she brought her fingertips up to her tingling lips. She couldn’t help wondering about what it would be like kissing him again. She had no idea what she’d do if he kissed her. Really kissed her again.
She tried not to stare or think too hard about him because a part of her was afraid he could read her mind. The longer she was alone in close proximity with him, the more she seemed to be attracted to him. She’d dreamt about him all night. About the kiss. The moment she thought about the kiss, her blood pounded through her veins. Hot. Inflamed. Like her face. It was the most annoying thing ever. She didn’t have these kinds of problems when she was by herself.
The first time she ever saw Rubin Campo, she remembered being so shocked at her reaction to him. She’d stared at him in awe when he walked out onto the podium to speak. The first few words he said, she didn’t even hear him—and then when she did, his voice was like the whisper of fingertips brushing over her skin. She actually got goose bumps. It didn’t make any sense. She was up in a balcony, completely alone, hidden in a corner, and she had been afraid she would light up like one of the fireflies dancing in the grass at sunset.
Jonquille followed Rubin a good distance from the cabin into much deeper forest until they came to a series of large trees, where he stopped and caught at her arm as he sank into a crouch. He indicated a very old oak that had toppled over several years earlier, the roots coming right out of the ground, leaving a large hole that curved back underneath the tree. Jonquille was silent, waiting for the wind and the sounds to tell her what Rubin wanted her to know.
Bobcat. A little female and her kits. They couldn’t be more than a few days old, nursing. How many? She stretched her senses, wishing she could see them. Four? No, five. Definitely newborns. She turned her head slowly and looked at Rubin, smiling. If he’d given her a diamond, she wouldn’t have liked it as well.
A female bobcat generally claimed a territory of about ten miles. In that territory she had her main den, usually a hole in the ground where she would have her babies, and then several auxiliary or shelter dens scattered throughout her territory. Those could be located near stumps or brush piles, anywhere in the less-traveled areas of her territory.
Like most of the predatory animals, the bobcats were hunted for their fur and driven out of their habitats when the areas were logged. Knowing a little female had established a den and had her kittens right there, a few miles from the cabin, was a testament to the fact that Rubin’s and Diego’s efforts at conservation and preserving their heritage were working. Having spent time in the mountains now, she recognized the beauty of their land and culture and wanted it saved as well.
They backed away slowly, careful not to make a sound. They didn’t want the mother to feel threatened in any way. The last thing they wanted her to do was abandon her den and try to take her kittens to another, perhaps putting them in danger from a predator.
Once they were far enough away from the den, patrolling in a loose and wide circle around the cabin, Jonquille admitted to herself and him that she was happy to have actually seen the little cat.
“I was fairly certain the cry I heard was from a bobcat, but actually seeing her with my own eyes made me much less worried. I don’t know what I was thinking—that a child was lost up here in the mountains? That would be silly, right?”