“Does it matter?” One room was much like another as far as Ian was concerned.

“Not really. It’s another wickedness in a night of so much wickedness. I never knew I’d like wickedness so much, Ian.  Thank you for showing it to me.”

Her gaze roved his body and came to rest solidly on his erection. That organ pointed stiffly at her, and how could it help it?

Beth was beautiful. Her limbs were white against the tub’s copper bottom, her nipples pinched tight with cold and desire.  Stands of dark hair floated around her shoulders, and the twist of hair between her thighs was darker still.

Her face flushed with heat, her red lips curved into a smile, and her blue eyes gleamed. She lazily licked a droplet of water from her lower lip.

The storm raged through Montmartre like cannon fire.  No one, not even Curry, knew where they were. Tonight, Beth belonged to him.

Ian’s life was dictated by other people—events and conversations swirled past him before he could follow them; other people decided whether he’d live in an asylum or out of it, whether he’d go to Rome or wait in London. Events flowed and ebbed, and as long as they didn’t interfere with his interests, like finding elusive Ming pottery, he let them happen.

Now Beth had landed in the swift stream of his life, and she’d stuck there like a rock. Everything else swirled past him, but like an anchor, Beth stayed.

He needed her to stay forever.

Ian bent and hauled her to her feet. Her body was slippery, sliding in a fine way against his.

“You’re still cold,” she said.

“You’ll warm me.”

He snatched another towel from the pile and wrapped it around her before she could start shivering again. The heat of her body was better than a fire, better than all the hot water in the world.

Ian lifted her, stepped carefully from the bath, and carried her to the narrow bed near the stove. The maid had and inserted hot bricks wrapped in cloth under the worn but clean linens.

Ian laid Beth on the warmed bed. She looked up at him, not in the least worried as Ian dropped his towel and stretched out beside her. He pulled the covers over them both, cocooning them in warmth. The heat of the bricks and Beth’s body permeated the bed, driving away the cold.

Beth wrapped her arms around Ian as he turned onto his side to face her. “What naughtiness are you going to teach me now?” She smiled.

She still didn’t understand.

“No games tonight.”

“Oh.” She sounded disappointed.

Ian smoothed her wet hair back from her face and leaned so he was half on, half off her. Her breath touched his mouth, fragrant and sweet.

“Promise me,” he said.

“Promise you what?”

“Promise you’ll tell me to stop.”

She gave him an arch look. “That all depends on what you start.”

Beth still thought he was playing. Don’t let me hurt you.

“Promise me.”

“Very well,” she said, still smiling.

Ian smoothed her eyes closed, brushed kisses down her nose and across her lips. Her mouth moved, her tongue darting out to catch his, but he moved out of reach.  “I want you,” she whispered. A blush spread across her face. “But it’s been a very long rime. Perhaps I won’t be able to.”

Ian reached between her legs and sank his fingers into hot moisture. “You will.”

“How do you know?”

She pretended to have so much experience, but sharing a bed with a sedate husband and intense coupling with a lover were two different things. One was duty, the other . . . wildness.  Perhaps her husband had made duty enjoyable, but what Ian wanted was not a dutiful wife lying on her back for her husband.

He wanted to show Beth every nuance of pleasure, from the incredibly gentle to the crazed and rough. He wanted them falling to the bed afterward, bruised and spent, both of them sated. He wanted everything with her, and he didn’t want it tame.

“Let me,” Ian whispered against her mouth as he slid his fingers inside her.

Beth gasped, and her hips rocked up. Ian stroked two fingers into her, then swirled them around her sleek tuft of hair. She was hot, wet, ready.

He’d been ready for weeks. He slid his knee between hers and let his tip part her opening.

Beth moaned deep in her throat. “Please, Ian.”

“Please stop?” he murmured, excitement gripping him.

“No.”

He smiled into her lips. “Please what, Beth? What do you want me to do?”

“You know.”

“I am not good at hints. You have to tell me straight out.”

“You’re teasing me now.”

Ian licked her mouth. “You like being teased. You like ducking into private rooms with me and pulling up your skirts when I tell you.”

“Is that what you call teasing?”

“You like fellatio and cunnilingus.”

“I do, truth be told. I’d never done either before.” “No?” he murmured. “I thought you a woman of the world.”

“I thought I was rather clumsy at it.”

“You were beautiful. You are beautiful now.” She bit her lip, making it red and enticing. Shy Beth, blushing while he lay naked on top of her. She always filled him with laughter.

“Please, Ian,” she whispered. “I want you inside me.”

His entire body tightened. “Yes.”

He was too big. It had been nine years since a man had entered her, and she was too tight. She couldn’t take it.

Ian groaned softly as he pushed all the way in. He took a long breath, his chest pressing hers. He wouldn’t look at her, turning his head so Beth stared directly at his cheekbone and rain-wet hair slicked to his skull.

“Am I hurting you?” he asked.

“No.”

“Good.” He thrust once. “Good.”

Beth squeezed her eyes shut as he thrust again. The thickness of him pushed so deep inside her she thought it would tear her apart.

And it felt good.

“Ian,” she groaned. “I am wicked. I’m a wicked, sinful woman, and I don’t want you to ever stop.”

Ian didn’t answer. He moved slowly inside her, thick and hard. Deeper, faster. Please.

She rocked her hips up as he came down. He held himself up on one hand while he fisted her hair in his other.  He tickled the ends of her hair along her breasts, and her overly sensitive nipples rose and tightened.

He leaned down and licked one areola, teasing the point into his mouth. She watched his teeth play, his tongue swirl over the nipple, the pink skin rising into his mouth. He closed his eyes as though he were savoring some rich dish, his lashes soft points against his cheeks.

Beth ached where they joined. The friction burned on her petals too long untouched, fire that made her want to open her legs wide. She did, sliding her feet on the covers, letting her hips arch upward.

“Do you feel it?” Ian asked.

A dozen phrases went through Beth’s head, but she gasped out, “Yes.”

“Your cunny is tight, my Beth. Squeezing me so hard.”

He smiled when he said it, feral and raw.

No man had ever done bawdy talk with her. Game girls had told her of it, but she’d never dreamed she’d hear it hot in her ear, spoken by a beautiful man.

“Squeeze me some more, love,” he murmured. “You feel so damn good.”

“Good,” Beth echoed. She tightened her muscles, and he groaned.

He felt good. All thick and hard and moving inside her.  She tried to tell him, to give him bawdy talk in return, but she couldn’t form words.

“I wanted you in Covent Garden,” he said. “I wanted you straddling me in the dark while I came up inside you.” “In the theatre?”

“Right there in the damn box, with the opera blaring on.  I’d take you, make you my own.” He put his hand on her neck over the spot where he’d given her the love bite. “I branded you.”

Beth smiled. “You, too.” She touched his neck. “I branded you.”

He laced his fingers hard through hers and pressed her hand to the bed. “Belong to me.”

“No one here to dispute that at the moment.” “Always mine. Always, Beth.” Thrusts punctuated the words.

Always. Her body jerked in rhythm with his, the bed creaking. It was a solid bed, thick mahogany, made to take men like Ian loving thejr women.

She was his lover. Beth laughed for the delight of it. Being with Ian was decidedly unrespectable, and she felt freer than she’d ever felt in her life. Under him, she could spread her wings.

Beth laughed again. She was spreading herself as far as she could. Ian’s eyes were closed, his face twisted in pleasure.  His thrusts accelerated, his hips pounding as if it were the last coupling he’d ever have.

He drove her into the mattress, his body heavy on hers, his sweat dripping onto her skin. Rain streamed against the windows, and a boom of thunder swallowed Beth’s sudden cry of ecstasy.

Ian shouted, not waiting for thunder. Lightning flared, bathing the room in white. The light outlined lan’s body, his sharp-lined face, burning his hair red.  In that moment, Ian opened his eyes, like twin suns coming into view, and let his gaze directly meet Beth’s.

Chapter Twelve

Beth stopped breathing. For the first time since she’d met him, Ian’s gaze fully connected with hers.  His eyes were golden, as she’d known, but she’d not known that his black pupils were ringed with green. His body slowed as he studied her, as though looking at her arrested all his attention. He didn’t blink, didn’t move, just let his gaze rest on hers.

She touched his face in wonder. “Ian.”

Ian started and turned his head, and when he looked back, his eyes drifted sideways, not meeting hers.  Beth’s heart wrenched. “No, please don’t look away.”

Ian closed his eyes and bent to kiss her.

“Why won’t you look at me?” she asked. “What’s wrong with me?”

He opened his eyes again, but his gaze didn’t meet hers.

“Nothing. You are perfect.”

“Then why?”

“I can’t explain. Don’t ask me to explain.” “I’m sorry,” she whispered. She stroked his hair as tears leaked from her eyes.

“Don’t cry.” He kissed her wet cheek. “This is the time for joy.”

“I know.”

He was still inside her, thick and hard, spreading her marvelously.

Don’t hunger for what you can’t have, she admonished herself.  Take pleasure in what you can. Such thoughts had got her through the worst days.

She wanted all of Ian, body and soul, when she knew she couldn’t have that. He was giving her what he could: bodily pleasure and momentary joy. She’d asked him to have a purely carnal affair with her. If she hurt because she couldn’t have more, it was her own fault.

“Ian, you are so bad for me,” she said.

He gave her a half smile. “I’m the Mad Mackenzie.” Beth pressed his face between her hands, anger suddenly rising. “That is other people’s explanation, because they don’t understand you.”

He looked away. “You always try to be kind to me.”

“It isn’t kind. It’s the truth.”

“Shh.” Ian kissed her. “Too many words.” Beth agreed. Ian kissed her again, occupying her mouth with something much more satisfying.

He began to move inside her again. Ian’s body was hot and tense, the noises he made exciting her beyond what she thought she could feel.

This is bliss, her mind whispered as he took her to cresting waves of pleasure. She came beneath his body, twisting and arching against his hips. She moved and moaned until the black waves subsided, and Ian crashed down against her, their bodies melding into one line of heat.

Thunder cracked right overhead, and Beth jumped awake. Ian lay beside her, propped on one elbow, watching her sleep.

“Hello,” she murmured.

Ian gave her a slow smile. She couldn’t tell if he’d slept or not, but he didn’t look tired at all.

“I thought the storm would be over by now,” she said.

“What time is it?”

“I don’t know. Early morning.”

Beth grimaced. “Isabella will be worried.”

“She knows I will take care of you.”

“And she might be with Mac.” Beth grinned at him.

“Maybe he’s gone home with her.”

Ian’s look told her he didn’t agree. “Tonight was the first time he’d spoken to her in three years.”

“That’s good, isn’t it?”

“He was very angry when I told him she wanted to go to the casino. I don’t think their reunion will be pleasing.” “You’re a pessimist, Ian. Isabella has been such a dear friend to me, and I want to see her happy again.” “She chose to leave Mac,” Ian pointed out.