Diana tore herself from Rosaria’s arms and plunged through the wall of bodies at her back. Vaguely she heard Ramón begin to speak of Rafe, heard the crowd roar out its affection for a man who deserved all of that and more.
A strong grip halted her.
“How can you do this to him?” Alex’s dark eyes snapped. It was obvious that he’d heard her say she was leaving. His voice was deceptively calm. “Not good enough for you, Doctor?”
She recoiled in shock. “How could you think—Rafe’s the best man I ever met.” She blinked back tears. “Please—don’t make a scene. Just let me go.”
His anger hummed like a taut bowstring.
Alex probed her gaze, and she saw in his eyes that she’d come up wanting. “Go ahead—run. Get the hell away from my brother. He deserves better.”
She forced herself not to flinch. “Move out of my way and I will.”
Alex stepped aside but didn’t look away.
Diana took one step past him, then halted. “You’re right, you know.” Her voice caught, and she barely managed to continue. “He deserves much better than me.”
Behind her the crowd cheered, chanting Rafe’s name.
And Diana ran.
Chapter Twelve
A jubilant Sam had promised that a car would be there by ten in the morning to pick her up. A hospital board member had put his plane at their disposal; she’d be home by early afternoon. Don Henderson would clear his schedule to see her that same day, and they’d outline the new game plan for her rehabilitation.
She might be back in the surgical suite by the end of the year. Back where she belonged, she told herself firmly. Back in the life she’d fought so hard to make.
She should be thrilled.
She was. Really.
Down the road, the mariachi music had stopped. The cars were gone, the sound of their engines dying away.
All Diana could hear now was the ever-present wind.
And the sick thud of her heart.
She sank to the bed, where her suitcases lay open, too full now with her share of Evita’s tesoros.
She had many more treasures that did not require packing. Friendships she’d formed. Moments she would never forget.
She doubled over, hugging to her chest the quilt she’d bought from the new friend who would never understand her leaving. The night felt so cold. So empty.
Good grief. When had she become such a weakling? Diana jumped to her feet, briskly folded the quilt and leaned on the suitcase to zip it closed.
She glanced at the travel clock by her bedside. 2:00 a.m. Sleep had never been further away. Maybe some of Rosaria’s tea would help.
As Diana crossed the living room to the kitchen, she heard a thump on the porch. For a second, her heart followed suit until she realized it wasn’t the sound of a footstep.
Then something whined and began to scratch at her screen.
Dulcita? Diana headed for the front door, absurdly grateful for the company on a night that looked to be endless.
But it wasn’t Dulcita.
It was Lobo. He cocked his head and whined, then paced toward her porch steps, looking back at her.
“What is it, boy?”
Lobo whined again.
Diana took a step forward, and he descended the steps, then stood as if waiting for her.
Her breath froze in her chest. “Rafe—” Quick paces led her to his side. “Is something wrong, Lobo? Is he hurt?”
Lobo bounded away, heading around the cabin.
Diana followed, the full moon lighting their path as her heart knocked inside her chest and her breathing came hard. She moved as fast as she dared over terrain that she’d crossed only once.
Lobo paused now and then for her to catch up. By the time they reached Rafe’s house, Diana was cursing herself for not having a flashlight to help in the dark spots, for not grabbing her phone and calling for help.
But call whom? She was the best medical help Rafe had at hand, except for his grandmother. Diana wasn’t going to frighten Rosaria without knowing what she faced.
She was about to mount the steps, when she realized Lobo had veered around the side of Rafe’s house, whining again for her to follow him. In the shadows, Diana stumbled once but caught herself. Watching the ground carefully, she almost ran into Lobo when he stopped abruptly.
And then she saw him. Rafe. Not lying on the ground as she’d expected at all.
Poised at the edge of the spring, head bowed, shoulders weary, he scrubbed his hands down his face, then dove in. He swam, his powerful body a clean, sharp arrow through the water. Diana tried to make herself turn away. She couldn’t.
Then Rafe emerged from his spring. At his right hip and down his leg she saw the web of scarring, and her practiced eye told her that he’d endured far more agony than he’d ever admitted.
Diana hugged the shadows. Every other man she’d known in her life paled beside him. So many contrasts…so much mystery…such undeserved pain.
He sank to the ground again, his back to her. The spring gurgled in the crisp night air. The moon silvered highlights over the blue-black shadows of his hair. Droplets of water clung to the valley between the muscles ridging his back.
Diana shivered.
He was still, so very still. Spine straight and head high, he sat cross-legged, hands resting on his knees, palms up. A shudder rippled through him, then his chest expanded in the long, slow breaths of meditation.
He began to chant, and the sound of his voice reached deep inside her.
The fine hairs rose on her body. She took a step toward him, then paused, unbearably drawn to him but so unsure what to do.
Rafe’s head lifted. She heard the quick intake of his breath.
She made ready to escape.
“No.” His voice enveloped her, dusky and somber. “Don’t go.” He rose and faced her.
“Lobo came after me. I thought you were hurt.”
He glanced away. “No. Only…tired.”
He was so alone. Such a beautiful man—damaged, yes, but more powerful for his suffering. He could have been a warlock, an ancient sorcerer, a shaman. Something beyond his physical being spilled into the air around him, something that almost frightened her, though she knew to her bones he would never cause her harm.
“You’re troubled, querida.”
“I—” Her chest felt tight. “Rafe, there’s a car coming to pick me up in the morning.”
“You already said you would go. I won’t try to talk you out of it,” he said, still extending the hand, his seer’s eyes so compassionate. So compelling. “But you need peace as much as I do. This last night, let me share my spring with you.”
Around and between them a web of yearning spun, silken strands so entwined that to cut them would require a swift, sharp blade. Even if she’d possessed the strength, she could never have summoned the will.
Not tonight.
This last night, he’d said. He wouldn’t try to stop her from leaving after all. A part of her eased, even as another part mourned that the decision wouldn’t be taken from her hands.
“If I didn’t have patients waiting—”
“But you do,” he said. “Our paths part here, it seems. If we cannot change that, let us give ourselves the gift of one night to be simply Rafe and Diana.”
She wanted that more than he’d ever know, but she sensed the pain waiting for dawn’s light, an agony so huge she quailed from it already.
As if he could read her thoughts, Rafe proffered a smile that was both bittersweet and chiding. “We are both strong, Diana. We know how to survive what we must.”
Yes. Something in his voice slid past the fear of the grief that lay on the horizon, made her reach for what shimmered before her, bright in its promise, if fleeting.
Diana shoved past fear and bridged the distance between them in an act of faith beyond anything she’d ever dared.
Rafe clasped her hand in his, and her eyes closed as she breathed in the scent and feel of
him until she could barely fight back a clawing urge to devour him whole.
But though she felt desire flare through him in one long shudder, Rafe didn’t grab her and offer her the easy out of mindless need.
Instead, he gave her tenderness.
He led her to water’s edge and began to remove her clothes with a touch that would have seemed efficient and neutral if she hadn’t felt his fingers tremble.
Out of character, Diana stood before him passive and open, quivering with her own daring. Trusting him as she had trusted no one else in her life, she fastened her gaze on his face as though he held the key to questions she’d never dared to ask.
With careful movements, he slid her garments from her body until she was as naked as he. When she should have felt exposed, Diana realized she felt strong.
And beautiful in his eyes.
She expected him to take her then, to ply her body with those hands that never ceased to make her long for their touch. To take her to the ground and feed on her as she wanted to feed on him.
Instead he picked her up and walked into the water.
The first shock stole her breath.
“Relax, mi corazon,” he said. “Lie back.”
Oddly enough, she found that she could. The heat pouring off his body countered the water’s chill. Rafe kept his arms beneath her as he laid her on the surface and urged her to float. “Let the waters cleanse away the past,” he said. “Accept the healing they offer.”
How she wanted that. Water slid through her hair like cool fingers. Over the front of her, Rafe’s warmth shielded her from the night’s breeze. Peace mingled with a desire so piercing she wanted to groan against the delicious bite of it.
His hands slid away, and she tensed.
“Sh-h,” he soothed. “You’re safe…let go.”
She obeyed. Somehow even without touching her, he made her feel secure. Cradled in the soft water, surrounded by his care. She couldn’t relinquish the wanting of him, no. What woman could, faced with a man like Rafe?
But the wanting gave spice to the refuge if she stopped fighting the pull of him and let herself revel. Luxuriate in both the peace and the promise that the night would hold more.
Perhaps more than either of them could bear.
“Sh-h.” A smile danced over his lips. “You’re thinking again.”
Diana smiled back, feeling strong and free. Exhilarated by the piquancy of being both cherished and craved. Emboldened by the knowledge that they had only this night to build memories that must last for years.
So she did something totally unlike her.
She teased. Spread her arms over her head and displayed her body as artlessly as a child.
Or perhaps a seductress, secure that he would keep her safe. That she could poke a stick into the panther’s cage. Dance on the edge of his control and see if she could break it.
She discovered she could. With a muttered oath, Rafe yanked her up against his hard body.
And let the beast free.
Diana’s own control snapped then. She wrapped her legs around his waist and gripped his hair in one hand, giving as good as she got.
They joined battle, two powerful spirits locked in mortal combat. Two hearts fighting odds they could not beat, furious with fates they could not change. Two bodies filled with rage and desire, seeking completion that went beyond the physical, past all common sense.
Suddenly, Rafe strode from the water and laid her down on the grass, surging inside her before she could catch her breath.
Diana made a sound low in her throat and clawed closer still.
Fierce and fast and furious, each tried to make up for all they’d wanted from the first day, all they could not resolve in any other way. They fought like warrior angels past all the barriers the world had cast between them—
Into a place of dreams. Of stunning, terrifying bliss. A place where hearts met, souls mingled, forever changed.
As they fell to earth, Rafe reversed their positions, wrapping his arms so tightly around the woman splayed over him that she could barely breathe.
For a moment, they lay there, gasping, past all speech. Diana was still searching for firm footing, scrambling back to familiar ground—
When Rafe began to touch her again, this time with a tenderness she could not fight. Could not fathom. Could only lie there and soak in like rain on the desert of her soul.
After he’d led her up winding, verdant paths to a sweetness that brought tears streaming from her eyes, Diana soaked in a bliss she knew she would never feel again. Would long for all of her life.
Weeping, she held him close, gripping so hard she could feel his heart thud against hers.
Then, with a grief that scored like acid, she sought the strength to slip away.
Rafe tightened his grasp. To hell with his vow. “Don’t run this time,” he whispered, the beat of his heart still racing. “Stay, querida. There’s a home for you here.”
She turned her face into his shoulder, and he felt her fingers curl into his sides. Felt her tremble.
She attempted to speak, then swallowed hard. Tried again.
Rafe wanted to press his hand to her mouth to stop words he knew he didn’t want to hear.
Instead he forced himself to lie still.
“I can’t.” In her voice he heard grating regret, a gift he would treasure in the dark days to come. “Just as these people need you, there are others who need me.” She tilted her head to look at him. “I do have something to contribute, Rafe. It’s not all just ambition.”
“I know. But your contribution is greater than you think. It isn’t limited to the scalpel.” He caressed her cheek. “You’re a healer, Diana, whatever method you must use. Within the driven woman is someone who cares deeply.”
Gratitude softened her eyes. Sorrow darkened them. “Thank you. I wish—” Her lashes slid lower, and he saw tears shimmer. “I left patients back there who are depending on me. My hand is getting stronger. I have to go back and care for them.”
She looked at him then, and through the tears he saw the longing. “I wish you could come with me. The sky would be the limit for you. I’d do anything I could to help.”
How a part of him wanted that still. How he had to work to banish it. “It’s not my path, querida. These are my people now.”
Slender fingers rose to stroke his jaw. He thought of how she’d guarded that hand so carefully and was moved by the trust that she would use it so freely on him.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m making it worse.” One finger traced over his eyelid, and the tenderness of it undid him. “I admire you so much,” she whispered. “You are the most honorable man I’ve ever met.”
His gaze was ravaged. “I’ve killed, Diana. I’ve let others down—”
She halted his words with her hand. “Don’t. None of that matters.” With one fist she touched her heart. “I know who you are. In here I know.”
Rafe clasped her fist and opened it. Eyes closed, he kissed her palm, unable to speak past the ache and longing, the rage at life and fate and duties he hadn’t asked for.
“Oh, Rafe…I—”
He stopped her with a kiss, then a caress—
One more time, they tasted. Surrendered. Cherished. Slid into a healing sleep.
Diana awoke as dawn beckoned, watching Rafe with eyes that burned. With a heavy heart, she attempted a sign of the cross over him as she’d seen Rosaria do, lingering with her hand outstretched above his heart.
Then she dressed quickly and slipped away, forbidding herself to look back.
Never knowing what it cost Rafe to lie so still—
And watch her walk out of his life.
Chapter Thirteen
The equipment had arrived right on schedule as Diana had promised. Rafe had worked day and night to be ready for it. Abuelita had swept the clinic clean with incense, herbs and prayers; the priest had added the Church’s blessings.
Now Rafe saw patients all day, went home at night know
ing he’d done what he could. That he’d earned his rest.
But sleep proved elusive. For almost a month, his nights had been a state of war. He had the pottery to show for it as he sought refuge in clay. He’d never produced better work.
And never cared about it less.
Funny that although Diana had been both rude and cynical in the beginning, he missed that sharp edge most. She challenged him. Made him think. Made him uncomfortable, yes, but he’d never felt more alive than when she’d been standing toe to toe with him, those green eyes daring him to convince her.
He couldn’t let himself reflect on her sweetness, on the vulnerability that worried him so. How did she fare, back in the jungle? How was her hand? Did anyone care?
Of course they did. She was Mercy’s rainmaker, Mercy’s star.
But did anyone understand that beneath that warrior angel’s face lurked a heart that needed a tender touch? That she could be hurt?
Lobo whined beside him. Rafe dug his fingers in the dog’s ruff and held on. “She’s where she wants to be, boy. We have to leave her alone.”
But everywhere he looked, Diana had marked his world. He didn’t visit his spring anymore; the peace had fled. All he could see there was her, slender as a taper, smooth as marble.
Burning with a fire that had scorched them both.
Teaching rounds were the next step on Diana’s comeback. “So how would you approach this case?” she asked a bright-eyed intern who reminded her all too much of herself.
The young woman didn’t blink, rattling off a list of tests she’d conduct and what the results would tell her.
The suggestions were dead-on. Diana couldn’t have done better, but she found that she couldn’t settle for simple procedures now. “How is he feeling?”
The young woman ticked off his symptoms, a slight frown between her eyes.
“No—” Diana interrupted. “I don’t mean physically. What is he thinking now? Is he scared? What will he assume if you’re ordering all these tests? Will it increase his worry? How do you propose to incorporate his family into the picture?”
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