Turning her mouth from his, she gasped, “Let me down—I’ll hurt you—”

“You’re as light as a petal.”

Trying a different avenue of escape, Garrett wriggled downward, but the movement sent a deep, hot throb of sensation through her. She stopped, her pelvis frozen against his, all her nerves and muscles tensed at the verge of release. Quivering, all she could think of was how much she wanted to grind against that hard shaft in tight circles.

She glanced at Ethan, whose eyes were lit with wicked amusement. Her face flamed as she realized he knew exactly what she was feeling.

One of his hands slid over her bottom, cupping firmly. His hips nudged upward, making her gasp. “Let me help you, agra,” he whispered.

“You can help me by resting, and not re-opening your wound from too much exertion.”

He nuzzled at her throat, and had the audacity to say, “I still have one hundred and eighteen positions left to show you.”

Garrett pushed his hands away and rolled off him carefully. Her hair tumbled from its pins as she sat up. “Not unless you want to expire in the attempt.”

“Sit right here,” he invited, patting his lap. “We’ll do something easy and slow.”

“It’s not just the physical effort I’m worried about, it’s your blood pressure. You had arterial surgery two weeks ago, Ethan. You must stay calm and quiet until it heals completely.”

“It already has. I’m almost back to normal.”

Garrett gave him an exasperated glance as she tried to twist up her hair and pin it. “Unless you’ve found a way to defy the laws of biological science, you most certainly have not healed completely.”

“I’ve healed enough for this.”

“As your doctor, I disagree.”

“I’ll prove it to you.” Watching for her reaction, he slid his hand downward to the bulging front of his trousers, and began to rub slowly.

Garrett’s eyes widened. “You’re not really going to—Good God. Stop that, this instant—” She grabbed his wrist, tugging his hand away from his groin. To her annoyance, he was chuckling richly.

Flustered and annoyed, she muttered, “Oh, go on then, and stimulate yourself into an aneurism.”

Ethan grinned. “Stay and watch,” he said, shocking her further. Hooking an arm around her waist, he took her down with him, and grunted in discomfort as they both fell heavily to their sides. “Ah. Damn it.”

“It serves you right,” Garrett exclaimed, while he continued to chuckle.

“Don’t scold,” he coaxed, nestling her back into him. “Stay here and lie with me.” His smiling lips played tenderly behind her ear and along her neck. “Stay in my arms where you belong, cushla macree.” He ran his hand over her body, fondling lightly here and there. “I’ve a matter to take up with you, by the way.” He rubbed his lips against the edge of her ear. “You haven’t kept your promise.”

Perplexed, Garrett turned her face in his direction. “What promise?”

His mouth brushed her cheek as he spoke. “The night of the surgery. The last thing I asked for was a few words from you. But you wouldn’t say them.”

“Oh.” Color rushed beneath the tender pressure of his lips. “I was afraid to,” she confessed huskily. “I thought you might live longer if I made you wait.”

“I’m still waiting.”

“I didn’t mean to—I’m sorry, I’ve been so—but I do. Of course I do.” Carefully Garrett turned within the warm haven of his arms and lay facing him. She cleared her throat before saying in a slightly clenched voice, “I love you.”

At the very same moment, Ethan had begun to ask, “Do you mean you—”

They both fell silent. How thoroughly awkward. With a defeated groan, Garrett turned onto her back and closed her eyes, too embarrassed to look at him. The first time she’d ever said it to a man, and she’d made a hash of it.

“I love you,” she repeated. But didn’t sound at all the same as when he’d said it. She wanted to add something to make it more eloquent, but she couldn’t think of what. “You had such a lovely way of putting it,” she grumbled, “even when you were half conscious. I wish I could say something poetic, because I feel . . . I feel . . . but you were right, I don’t have a romantic bone in my body.”

“Sweet love . . . look at me.”

She opened her eyes to find Ethan staring down at her in a way that made her feel sun-dazzled.

“You don’t have to be poetic,” he said. “You’ve held my life in your hands. When I was near death, you were the anchor to my soul.” His fingertips slid from her temple and down over her flushed cheek, stroking tenderly. “I never dared to dream of hearing those three words from you. They’re beautiful when you say them.”

Garrett smiled reluctantly. “I love you,” she said again, and this time it felt easier and more natural.

His lips strayed over the tip of her nose, her cheeks, her chin, before wandering back for another dizzying kiss. “Let me pleasure you. After all the care you’ve taken of me, let me do at least that much for you.”

The idea quivered through her. But she shook her head and said, “I didn’t go to the trouble of saving your life merely for you to toss it away in a moment of self-indulgence.”

“I only want to play,” Ethan coaxed, unloosening the fastenings of her bodice.

“It’s a dangerous game—”

“What’s this?” His fingers curled around a long pink silk cord and tugged, gently unearthing a small object from beneath her chemise. It was the little silver whistle he’d given her. Closing his hand around the bright metal, still warm from her skin, he sent her a questioning look.

Turning pink, Garrett confessed sheepishly, “It’s a sort of . . . talisman. Whenever you’re not with me, I pretend I can use it to send for you, and you’ll magically appear.”

“Whenever you want me, love, I’ll always come running.”

“You didn’t the last time I tried it. When I’d finished my rounds at the workhouse, I stood on the front steps and blew this whistle with no results whatsoever.”

“I was there.” Ethan stroked the hollow of her throat with the rounded end of the whistle. “You just couldn’t see me.”

“Truly?”

He nodded, setting aside the gleaming little tube. “You were wearing the dark green dress with the black trim. Your shoulders were drooping, and I knew you were tired. I thought of all the women in London who were safe and cozy in their homes, while you were standing out in the dark, after spending your evening taking care of people who couldn’t afford a penny for your services. You’re the best woman I’ve ever known . . . and the most beautiful . . .”

He tugged her chemise down and drew the spread fingertips of one hand over her exposed chest, the side of his smallest finger brushing a tender pink bud as if by accident. Her throat closed on a whimper. Using his fingertips, he rolled and stroked the sensitive peak, then moved to her other breast, gently clamping the nipple between his thumb and forefinger.

“It’s too soon for this,” Garrett said anxiously, and managed to turn onto her side, facing away from him.

Ethan reached out and tucked her back into the exciting weight and hardness of his body. She felt the curve of his smile at the nape of her neck, as if her perfectly rational concerns were unwarranted. “Acushla, you’ve had your say for the past two weeks, and I’ve abided by your rules—”

“You’ve fought my rules every step of the way,” she protested.

“I’ve been drinking that evil tonic you keep giving me,” he pointed out.

“You’ve been pouring it into a potted fern whenever you think I’m not looking.”

“It tastes worse than the Thames,” he said flatly. “The fern thought so too, which is why it turned brown and died.”

A laugh bubbled up before she could stop it, but her breath caught as one of his muscular legs came between hers and urged her thighs apart. His hand slid under her skirts and into the open seam of her drawers, until he found the bare skin above the top of her stocking garter. The massaging stroke of his thumb, high inside her thigh, made her weak with excitement.

“You want me,” Ethan said with satisfaction as he felt her tremble.

“You’re impossible,” she moaned. “You’re the worst patient I’ve ever had.”

His husky laugh tickled her neck. “No,” he whispered, “I’m the best. Let me show you how good I am.”

Breathing raggedly, Garrett started to wriggle away from him, then checked the movement.

That made him laugh again. “That’s right, don’t struggle. You might hurt me.”

“Ethan,” she said, trying to sound stern, “this is too much exertion for you.”

“I’ll pull away if I feel myself starting up in a passion.” He untied her garters and pulled down her drawers, murmuring in her ear all the while, telling her how sweet she was to the touch, how he longed to kiss and love every part of her. His hand slid between her parted thighs, stroking the folds of her sex open, teasing and teasing until her skin was sweat-misted and hot and all her muscles were clenching. Gently his fingertip found the entrance to her body and wriggled into silkiness, wetness, pulsing warmth.

They both groaned softly.

Garrett tried desperately not to move as his finger eased farther into the wet, grasping depths, pushing in deep, sliding out slowly and back in again. “Éatán,” she begged, “let’s wait until you’ve healed properly. Please. Please. Seven more days, that’s all.”

A breath of laughter rushed across her bare shoulder as he worked at the front of his trousers. “Not seven more seconds.”

Garrett squirmed as she felt the pressure of a smooth, broad shape at the tender breach of her sex. She couldn’t hold back a moan. The rim of her entrance contracted, tiny muscles grasping for the blunt silken pressure.

“You’re trying to pull me in,” came his dark whisper. “I can feel it. Your body knows where I belong.”

She felt a liquid nudge, her flesh tightening then yielding at the helpless sensation of being opened and penetrated. He entered an inch or two. Agitation quickened her blood as she lay there cradled and surrounded, with that hot, teasing presence just inside her.

Garrett had no idea how many minutes passed while they lay together, motionless except for the rhythms of their breathing. Her body stretched . . . a slight relaxation . . . and there was another slight easing inward. In the dreamlike stillness, she began to feel fuller and fuller . . . he was gradually moving deeper, occupying her in such slow increments that she couldn’t perceive whether the impetus was coming from him or herself. Some of it had to be her own doing: the maddening craving had made it impossible to stay absolutely still. Her hips kept spasming with the urge to push down on that tantalizing hardness.