Garrett’s breath struck his neck in a little puff of amusement. “Why?” she whispered. “Are you going to seduce me in my own laboratory?”

Clearly she had no idea how close he was to doing just that.

Ethan crushed his mouth against her smoothed-back hair, his gaze wandering over shelves filled with vaguely menacing instruments and flasks of mysterious fluids. “What man wouldn’t be carried away in a setting like this?” he asked dryly. Although there actually was something provocative about it, this scientific room of cold, hard surfaces, and the pretty green-eyed creature in his arms. She was the only soft thing in here.

“Science is romantic,” Garrett agreed dreamily, missing the sarcasm. “There are secrets and wonders waiting to be discovered in this laboratory.”

Ethan’s lips twitched as he charted the length of her spine with his palm. “The only wonder I see is you, acushla.”

Garrett drew back enough to look at him, the tip of her nose brushing his. “What does that word mean?”

“Acushla? It’s . . . a word for female friend.”

After a moment of consideration, a skeptical grin crossed her face. “No, it isn’t.”

It was pure reflex to kiss her again, a response to an impulse before it had even reached his brain. Her mouth shaped to his with a willingness that drew a primitive grunt of satisfaction from his throat. He felt the innocent tightening of her thighs against his hips, and his groin pumped with heat.

Ethan damned himself as his fingers went to the buttons of her basque. Just a few minutes more, and he would live on it to the end of his days. The front of her bodice fell open to reveal a chemise fastened with a tiny silk bow, and a simple white corset with elastic panels, the kind women wore for riding or exercise. With great care, he untied the little bow and ran his forefinger inside the loosened chemise. As the back of his knuckle brushed her breast, a rush of intense excitement made it difficult to breathe. He eased the fine white cotton down to reveal a soft pink nipple peeking over the molded corset edge.

He bent over her, compelling her to lean back on his arm, and slipped his fingers beneath the boned fabric to lift the firm, silky weight of her breast. His head lowered. Taking the rosy tip into his mouth, he tugged it into a stiff bud. She gasped and trembled, her hand gripping his shoulder repeatedly, like a cat kneading her paws.

For Ethan, the sexual act had always been a transaction or a weapon. He’d been trained in the arts of seducing anyone, man or woman, into yielding their most closely guarded secrets. He knew endless ways to stimulate, torment, and satisfy, how to make someone mindless with desire. He’d done things, and had things done to him, that most people would consider beyond decency. But he’d never experienced anything like the intimacy of this moment.

He spread a path of slow kisses to her other breast, taking his time, savoring the unbelievable smoothness of her skin. As his lips reached the edge of her chemise, Garrett fumbled to pull the garment down. Even as aroused as Ethan was, he grinned briefly at her impatience. Cupping beneath her breast, he kissed the pale curve, deliberately avoiding the pink center. Her fingers slid into his hair as she tried to guide his mouth to where she wanted it. He resisted, blowing gently against the contracted point. Garrett quivered in frustration as he hovered over the nipple for a torturously long moment, making them both wait. Finally relenting, he caught the firm bud, pulled it deep, teased it with his tongue.

That was all he could stand before he had to pull his mouth away. She strained upward to kiss him, but he shook his head and held her off. He’d never been so aroused, his flesh so hard that every throb of his pulse hurt.

“I have to stop,” he said hoarsely. Now, while he still could.

Her arms crept around his neck. “Stay with me tonight.”

Filled with lust and yearning, Ethan nuzzled her flushed cheek. “Ah, darlin’,” he whispered, “you don’t want that. I wouldn’t be nice. I’d bring you to the edge of wanting, and keep you there ’til you were cursing and screaming your pleasure for all the neighbors to hear. And after I’d brought you to a long, hard come, I might turn you over my knee for being such a noisy lass. Is that what you want? To spend all night in bed with a big, mean bastard?”

Her voice was muffled against his shoulder. “Yes.”

A laugh stirred in his throat.

Her legs dangled from her seated position on the table. White cotton stockings, sensible walking boots. The way she sat with her thighs parted should have made her appear wanton, but instead the posture reminded him of a young tomboy. He couldn’t believe she would make herself so vulnerable to him.

He leaned forward, his mouth finding hers. She quivered and opened for him, letting him taste her. The finely wrought muscles of her leg tensed as she realized his hand had stolen beneath her skirts and was working up her thigh.

Even the most demurely styled ladies’ drawers were constructed with a long slit at the crotch. While the garments were perfectly modest when a woman was in a standing position, they opened completely when she was seated. Reaching the seamed edge of the gap, he let his thumb rest gently against the delicate skin of her inner thigh.

Garrett pulled her mouth from his and buried her face in his throat.

Ethan tightened his arm around her back, while his thumb slid higher, circling into the edge of a silky-rough patch of hair. He skimmed the tops of the curls, stirring the hairs with teasing strokes that awakened vague echoes of sensation at the roots.

Gently he murmured in the hollow space just behind her earlobe, guessing at what might excite or intrigue her. “In India, before a man marries, he’s taught how to please his wife according to ancient texts on the erotic arts. He learns about the embraces, kisses, strokes, and bites that bring fulfillment.”

“Bites?” she asked dazedly.

“Love bites, darlin’. Nothing that would hurt you.” To demonstrate, he bent to her neck and nibbled softly. She made an agitated sound and arched toward him. “’Tis said the joining of two who are well-matched is a high union,” he whispered. “And if they become so intoxicated by love as to leave faint marks on the skin, their passion for each other will not be lessened even in one hundred years.”

Garrett’s voice was wobbly. “Did you learn any of those erotic arts?”

His lips curved against her skin. “Aye, but I’m still a novice. I only know one hundred and twenty positions.”

“A hundred and . . .” She broke off as he let two fingers slide gently between the soft lips of her sex, teasing back and forth. After a convulsive swallow, she managed to say, “I doubt that’s anatomically possible.”

His lips grazed the edge of her jaw. “You’re the medical expert,” he mocked gently. “Who am I to argue?”

She squirmed as one of his fingertips wriggled through soft curls and came to rest on an acutely sensitive place. “Who taught you?” she managed to ask.

“A woman in Calcutta. I’d never met her before. For the first two nights, there was no physical contact at all. We sat on bamboo mats on the floor and talked.”

“About what?” She stared at him with dilated eyes, her flush deepening as he continued to fondle the silky, intricate shape of her.

“The first night she explained about Kama . . . a word for desire and longing. But it also refers to the well-being of the soul and senses . . . the appreciation of beauty, art, nature. The second night we talked about pleasures of the body. She said if a man was a true male, he would use the rule of his will to cherish the woman, and fulfill her so thoroughly she would have no desire left for another.”

On the third night, she had undressed him and pulled his hand to her body, whispering, “Women, being of a tender nature, want tender beginnings.”

That had been the most difficult part for Ethan, showing tenderness to her. To anyone. He’d always feared any kind of weakness in himself. But there had been no choice—he had been committed to doing whatever was necessary to become what Jenkyn had intended him to be.

This was different. This woman owned the sum of him, his tenderness and violence, everything good or bad.

His head lowered over hers, and he kissed her for long, luxurious minutes, learning what made her tremble and her breath come fast. All the while, he let his fingers tickle and play between her thighs. With his thumb and forefinger, he rubbed each fragile inner lip as if releasing perfume from flower petals. She whimpered, her sex nudging upward into his palm. He traced around the swollen bud, close but not touching, and massaged the plump hood just above it.

“Oh please,” Garrett gasped, writhing at the slow torture.

He made the circles smaller, his touch spiraling inward until he reached her clitoris and feathered it with a few light strokes. She moaned, her legs closing on his hips. As her pelvis lifted and froze at the brink of release, he withdrew his touch. She clutched his neck almost angrily, trying to haul him closer.

“Easy, now, darlin’,” Ethan said with an uneven laugh, even though he was sweating and aching with his own vicious need. “It won’t help you to strangle me.”

Her brows lowered, and her fists slid down to grip his vest. “Why did you stop?”

Ethan lowered his forehead to hers. “I was taught that satisfying a woman properly should take at least as long as making dough for bread.”

Garrett writhed helplessly. “How long is that?”

“You don’t know?” he asked, amused.

“No, I can’t cook. How long does it take?”

He let his smiling lips brush her cheek. “If I told you, you’d probably time me.”

Reaching down to part the tender furrow, he caressed her until he felt a touch of wetness. The feel of that silky feminine elixir, coolness and heat, sent a charge of lust through him. He stroked the entrance to her body and insinuated a fingertip. Feeling the tiny muscles clenching to keep him out, he murmured soft words and crooning sounds—soothering, was the Irishman’s word for it—and worked carefully deeper. She went motionless at the feeling of being entered. Invaded.

“Relax,” he whispered, “and I’ll be able to reach places that will give you pleasure.”

Garrett looked up at him with hazy confusion. “What places? I’ve studied reproductive physiology, and there are no—” She broke off with a little yelp as he reached up to her breast and gave the nipple a quick double pinch. Her body tightened around his finger in surprised response. As soon as the inner muscles loosened, he searched more deeply, and covered her mouth with his. Her legs spread wider beneath the skirts, her body straining toward him.

The depths of her body were fluid and snug, working frantically to pull him in. Drawing his thumb through the gloss of feminine moisture, he caressed the intricate shape of her, teasing and swirling, while his finger began a gentle nudging, mimicking the way he wanted to thrust inside her.

His cock was excruciatingly full, as hard as stone as it pressed against the metal edge of the table. Delving his other hand beneath her skirts, he played with her, fingertips tapping and pattering softly like raindrops. After tracing the slightly distended folds, he tickled between them, grazing the swollen center again and again. No matter how she tried to hurry him, he was relentless and deliberate, stroking slowly, building her pleasure, torturing himself as well as her. Whimpers climbed in her throat. Opening her mouth with his, he licked at the sounds, relishing the way her body shivered and danced at his touch.