Lightning Game (GhostWalkers #17) -Christine Feehan Page 0,25
her a grin. “At least you’re willing to admit you’re attracted to me.”
“I think that was pretty clear when I didn’t shoot you for watching me shower.”
“You didn’t shoot me because my brother had you dead to rights, just like he does now.”
She gave him her sassy smile. “There is that, although I did consider whether or not I could hit the floor before he got the shot off. I didn’t want to risk it. He has a bit of a reputation. And don’t let the admission of my finding you attractive go to your head or make you think Whitney did that to me. Any woman with eyes would find you attractive.”
He remained silent while she frowned, thinking over what she’d said. She laughed, those little bells skipping over the water in the sound he’d heard before when she realized what she’d said. He did like the sound of her laughter.
Her eyebrows drew together and for a moment she looked as if she was pouting. “That didn’t come out right.”
He laughed, genuine laughter, something he couldn’t remember doing in a long time. “I thought it came out exactly right.”
“You would. To answer your question, yes, I believe in his great narcissistic, godlike way, Whitney decided we were a perfect match.”
“You must be very good at healing, then, because I am,” Rubin confessed. “Not just because I’m a doctor.” He waited several heartbeats. “I didn’t have the necessary skills to heal when I was a kid. I was in survival mode, trying to put food on the table. Trying to keep the family alive.” He gestured in the general direction of the family graveyard. “You can see, I wasn’t good at it.”
“Rubin.” His name came out a gentle reprimand. “Why do you come back if it hurts so much?”
“To check in with my family even though they’re gone,” he answered without hesitation. “To make sure those living in the mountains have some medical attention when they otherwise wouldn’t. And because this place calls to me. A part of me will always call it home, no matter where I settle.”
She gave him a smile that made his heart contract. “You’re a good man, Rubin. If Whitney had to pick a man for me, I’m grateful it was you.”
Rubin studied her face. She was actually quite good at keeping that little pixie face from giving too much away.
“He likes flowers. Whitney. He really likes flowers. He grows them. He would know that Jonquille spelled without the extra ‘L’ and ‘E’ added is ‘daffodil’ or ‘Easter lily’ here in the Appalachian Mountains, where you were born. Of course, he had no way of knowing that when he named me … I don’t think. Who knows what his talent is like?”
“Let’s go back inside, Jonquille. It turns cold fast. You managed to grab your boots but you’re not really dressed very warm.”
She slid off the boulder and gave a last look at the stream. “This is a magical place. I know the winters are harsh and it can be a hard life, but I would have tried to stay here if I didn’t have those men following me.”
He didn’t like that she would have tried to winter in the cabin alone. Even with the two of them, Diego and him, if one had fallen ill or broken a bone, it would have been dangerous.
“You know that wouldn’t have been the best of ideas.” He got to his feet, towering over her, conscious of the difference in their heights.
“I would have hunted for food and stored as much as I could have. Then collected edible roots and plants and stored those as well. I could have made it work.”
“Too dangerous and you know it,” he repeated.
“What do you think I’ve been doing all this time?”
“What would happen if a group of males caught you alone out here and they weren’t in the mood to be nice?” The image of his sister’s dead body floating in the stream rose up to haunt him. He shut it down immediately.
“I suppose I’d have to kill them.” She shrugged. “I wouldn’t like doing it, Rubin, but I would if I had to, if things got nasty.” Again, she exhibited supreme confidence.
He let her lead the way, if for no other reason than to give his brother a break. “You seem to think you wouldn’t have any problem taking on a group of men and coming out the victor.”