He’d been busily pulling the ties of her stays loose, one by one, but stopped and turned her to face him. “Jane, do you know what happens between a man and a woman in bed?”

Jane fought her blush. “Yes. I told you. I am extremely well read. And, er, Lucy mentioned a thing or two.”

His face relaxed. “Please do not tell me a word Lucy said.”

“Don’t worry. I won’t.”

He rubbed Jane’s shoulder. “All I ask is that you trust me.”

A shiver chased through her. “In case you use a knife or tie me up?”

“Nothing like that.” He kissed her tenderly again. “Tonight I want to make you touch the clouds.”

Jane’s shivering increased. “It sounds positively delightful.”

He finished unlacing her stays, and Jane faced him wearing only her chemise. “I refuse to remove another piece of clothing until you do, sir.”

He grinned wickedly. “With pleasure.”

Jane climbed onto the massive bed and propped herself against the pillows. “I’m going to need my spectacles for this.” She rummaged on the side table to locate them.

Garrett began by slowly untying his snowy white cravat. His eyes didn’t move from hers, and he didn’t say a word. He tugged the bow at his neck and unwrapped the material from his throat. He pulled it away and tossed it on the foot of the bed. Then he undid his shirtsleeves, removing the links of his cuffs one by one and setting them on the bedside table.

Jane watched in fascination, her tongue darting to wet her lips.

Next, Garrett tugged his shirttails from his breeches and used both hands to pull the white linen shirt over his head in a crisscross motion. He crumpled the fabric into a ball and tossed it onto the foot of the bed as well.

He stood before Jane, naked from the waist up. The broad expanse of his chest mesmerized her. She let her gaze play over it, memorizing every detail. She winced at the scar from the bullet that had nearly taken his life, but the imperfection did nothing to detract from his pure, male beauty. Her fingers ached to touch him.

He took a seat on the edge of the bed and removed first one dark boot and then the other. By the time he was done, his tight breeches were all that remained.

“I believe we’re even,” he said, sliding toward her on his hands and knees.

Jane panicked. “Usually when I’m up this late, it’s be—because I’m reading. Then I find I’m unusually tired in the morning.” It was a ridiculous thing to say, but nerves had quite got the best of her.

“You know what I think?” he asked, hovering over her.

“Wh—what?” she managed.

“You should be tired from being made love to all night. Not from reading.”