“Aye,” Ethan said gruffly, and fell silent, his fingers moving lightly in her hair. “About the transfusion . . .” he said eventually. “Does it alter a man . . . change his nature in some way . . . if he’s given someone else’s blood?”
Garrett lifted her head and regarded him with a faint, reassuring smile. “That question is still being debated among scientists. But no, I don’t believe so. Although blood is a vital fluid, it has nothing to do with a person’s characteristics, any more than the heart has to do with one’s emotions.” Reaching up with her hand, she softly tapped her forefinger against his temple. “Everything you are, all you think and feel, is in here.”
Ethan looked baffled. “What do you mean about the heart?”
“It’s a hollow muscle.”
“It’s more than that.” He sounded vaguely outraged, like a boy who’d just been told there was no Father Christmas.
“Symbolically, yes. But emotions don’t actually come from there.”
“They do,” Ethan insisted. Taking her hand, he brought it down to his chest and pressed her palm flat against the strong beat. “The love I have for you—I feel it, right here. My heart beats faster for you all on its own. It aches when we’re apart. Nothing tells it to do that.”
If Garrett had any defenses left, they fell away in that moment like scaffolding from around her heart. Rather than debate physiology or explain the brain’s influence on muscular action, she raised herself over his chest to kiss him tenderly.
She had intended the contact to be brief, but Ethan responded passionately, sealing their mouths together. He continued to press her hand against his chest, and she thought of the first night they had arrived at Eversby Priory, when she had stood by his bed and collected his heartbeats in her palm.
He consumed her, taking deeper, rougher tastes, sucking and gnawing as if he were pulling sweetness from a honeycomb. It went on for fevered minutes, kisses of soft velvet and slow fire, until she became aware that the big masculine body beneath hers was primed for an activity he wasn’t nearly ready for yet. As she felt the stiff ridge of his arousal through the layers of their clothes, her brain clamored a warning through the erotic haze. She tried to roll off him, but his hands clamped on her hips to keep her in place.
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.