Caught. "Yes. Sorry to disturb you."
With an odd note in her voice, she said, "You're not disturbing me. Could you come in here? I've found something that I think you'll find interesting."
Assuming that Laura's search through her uncle's papers had finally paid off, Ian went through the curtained doorway that connected their rooms. "What is it?"
He would have said more, but the sight that met his gaze rendered him speechless. His wife was not poring over a yellowed volume but standing in the middle of the room, her splendid figure swathed in an almost transparent sari, and her tawny hair cascading luxuriantly over her shoulders. She was as provocative as a Hindu goddess come to life, or the ancient Siren whose song bewitched men to their deaths.
And everywhere there were rose petals. No, not everywhere, the bed was clear. But a richly scented carpet of pink petals covered the floor inches deep, mounding into drifts and tumbling over Laura's elegant bare toes. The fragrance and color struck him with the impact of a physical blow, disordering his senses and blurring the line between reality and fantasy.
Ian knew that he must get out before it was too late, but already he was too paralyzed to move. Didn't she have any idea of the effect she was having on him? Yes, dammit, she must. "Bloody hell, Laura," he swore. "Are you deliberately trying to drive me crazy?"
"No!" Her slanted amber eyes were wide and anxious. "What I'm trying to do—what I found—is a new understanding."
Slowly she walked toward him, the voluptuous scent of roses spiraling up at every step as petals crushed beneath her bare feet. He couldn't take his gaze off the subtle sway of her breasts, which were clearly visible beneath the translucent silk of her sari. It was obvious that the only thing beneath the garment was enticing woman.
Stopping an arm's length away, she said, "While you were gone, I had a long discussion with Kamala about the nature of passion. It made me realize that I had everything backward— that trying to suppress desire was actually making it more dangerous." She swallowed, the graceful line of her throat taut. "The time has come for me to stop trying to hide from passion and accept that it is an essential part of my nature."
Wondering if his wits were being addled by roses, he said, "You'd better spell out what you mean. When I've tried to interpret your wishes in the past, the results have been wretched."
Color rose in her cheeks. "I know that my vacillation and confusion have been hard on you," she faltered. "You've been amazingly understanding. But now I'm through with vacillating. I hope you're still willing to... to make this a real marriage."
Willing? If she wanted him to cut his heart out, he'd ask her for a knife. But this was too sudden. Though he could see in her face that something fundamental had changed, he had learned the hard way that what appeared to be good fortune was probably not. His restored potency had proved to be a bitter blessing, and now his instincts shouted that Laura's change of mind might have equally unpredictable and painful repercussions.
He knew that he should retreat and take the time to think, to examine the black corner of his spirit that was warning him that nothing good could come of this. He didn't deserve unmitigated happiness, and any joy he found with his wife would have to be paid for by a piece of his soul.
But he couldn't draw back, not even to save his life, and that was brutal proof of his weakness. "Ah, God, Laura, you must know that I can't resist you," he said, aching.
"That's what I was hoping," she said with a smile as tremulous as dawn.
As always, he was fascinated by her combination of fair coloring and slanted Oriental eyes, as unique and unpredictable as the woman herself. He caught a handful of her shining hair, the color of polished oak, the texture of moonbeams, and brushed it against his cheek, half expecting her to vanish because this whole magical scene was just a fantasy. But she didn't. Instead, she turned her head and kissed his fingers where they twined through her hair.
Fierce animal passion surged through him. He wanted to drag her down among the rose petals and mate with mindless abandon. But that would be too quickly done, and he dared not waste this priceless opportunity. His mind was momentarily too clouded by lust to have room for self-reproach, but once desire had been slaked, bleakness would take root, tainting future intimacy. He must make the most of tonight. In the future he would never be able to enjoy his wife's wondrous sweetness with as much freedom as now, when her darkness was receding and his darkness had not yet invaded the same space.
He tilted her head up for a kiss. Her arms came around his neck, her breasts crushing against him, and he tasted the hunger in her. He deliberately muted his response, setting a pace that would allow them time to savor what had passed too quickly the first time they had made love.