His eyes twinkled with humor. "Ye were no' admiring my manly physique?"

"You wish."

"I do wish." He started unbuttoning his shirt. "My heart is beating something fierce. Would ye like to check it now?"

She swatted his chest. "Player. I need to pack." She headed for the bedroom.

"I'm packing something for you," he mumbled.

She stifled a laugh as she glanced around the bedroom. She grabbed some discarded pajamas off the bed and smoothed some wrinkles in the comforter.

"Need any help?" He sauntered into the room.

"I'm fine." She tossed the dirty clothes into the hamper, then pulled a large suitcase from her closet. "Are you going to be able to teleport this back with me?"

"Aye." He sat on the bed and gave her a hopeful look. "Can I make myself comfortable?"

"Sure." She grabbed several pairs of jeans and some T-shirts from her closet. While she was folding them into the suitcase, she heard two thuds and glanced up. He'd taken his shoes off and was rolling down his socks. Her pulse sped up. How far was he planning to strip?

He dropped his sporran on the floor, then propped up some pillows and sat with his back against the headboard. "This is verra comfy. Would ye like to try it?"

She bit her lip to keep from smiling. "I've tried it before." She selected several sweaters from the shelving unit in her closet and dropped them into her suitcase.

As she continued to pack, she became more and more aware that he was watching her every move. She could feel his desire, so strong it seemed to reach across the room to caress her. Her skin began to tingle. Her breasts felt heavy. When she leaned over to grab a pair of boots off the closet floor, he groaned.

She glanced back, and sure enough, he was focused on her rump. Without thinking, she squeezed her thighs together. The thought of getting caught up in one of his volcanic explosions made her heart race. And made her womanly core feel agonizingly empty.

She quickly zipped the boots into the front section of her suitcase, then moved to her chest of drawers. She tossed some underwear and bras into the suitcase, along with some thermal underwear.

In a flash, he was there beside her, picking up one of her panties. " 'Tis so tiny." He examined the small triangle of silk. "It must barely cover yer honey pot."

With a snort, she snatched it from his hand. Honey pot? Stifling another laugh, she stuffed all her underwear in a zippered compartment. Then she opened another dresser drawer to retrieve her warmest flannel pajamas.

"Och, now this is nice." He pulled a long red nightgown from the drawer. "Ye should bring this."

She tossed it back. "It's not warm enough."

"Ye wouldna keep it on long enough to notice."

She shook her head, smiling. The man had a one-track mind. "This is a business trip, remember?"

She went into the bathroom to gather some toiletries. When she returned to pack them, she discovered the red nightgown had been neatly folded and slipped between two sweaters.

"Is this yer family?" He lifted a framed photo off the top of her dresser.

"Yes." She moved closer so she could point out each person. "That's my mom and dad. Kathleen and Kai Ling. They're both physics professors."

"Ye told me about yer Irish grandfather. So yer mother is Irish?"

"Yes. When I was about five years old, I asked her why my eyes couldn't be green like hers, and ever since then, I've been fascinated with genetics."

"Ye like green eyes?" He gave her a wide-eyed look.

She smiled. "Yes. And I love the pipes, too. My grandfather used to play." She sighed. "The summer I spent with him was one of the happiest times in my life."

"We'll make more happy times for you." He pointed at her in the photo. "Ye were a bonny lass."

She snorted. The photo didn't capture how gawky and shy she'd been at the time. "I was eleven. An unplanned late addition to the family, or as my father called it, an accident of cosmic proportions."

Dougal winced. "I would have called you a miracle. Ye are to me."

Her heart swelled. How many times would she have loved to hear that while growing up? Instead, she'd been constantly pressured to live up to the high standards her brothers had set. Homeschooled, devoid of any friends until she'd gone off to college to swim among the sharks.

"And these are yer brothers?" Dougal asked.

"Yes, this one is Albert. He was eighteen at the time. And the one in the graduation robe is Isaac. He was sixteen and graduating college."

"That young?"

Leah nodded. "Albert and Isaac both started college at thirteen. And they both had their Ph.D.'s by the time they were nineteen. I left for college when I was fourteen, but I didn't become a doctor till I was twenty-one." She made a face. "I took some flak for that. They thought I should be a doctor of some kind before the age of twenty."

Dougal frowned. "Are ye serious?"

She shrugged. "My parents weren't happy with my decision to go to med school. And they think genetics is a waste of time. I was supposed to be like Albert and Isaac and get my doctorate in quantum physics. Why study lowly humans when I could take on the entire universe?"

Dougal gave her an incredulous look. "Do they no' realize how brilliant ye are?"

"I was slower than my brothers."

He huffed. "Give me yer parents' address, and I'll track them down and knock their heads together."

Leah grinned. "That would get you off to a great start with the future - " She stopped herself from saying in-laws. Dougal hadn't even confessed to loving her, so she was getting way ahead of herself. "It's not like I was abused. They paid for all my education, and I'm very grateful for that."

"They shouldna have made ye feel like a failure," he grumbled. "Ye're the smartest person I've ever met, and I've been around a few centuries."

Her heart squeezed. How could she not love this man? "Thank you."

He slanted her a worried look. "Connor thinks ye're too smart for me."

"Well, I'll have to track him doon and knock him in the head."

Dougal chuckled. "So yer brothers - are they named after Isaac Newton and . . ."

"Albert Einstein, yes." She put the framed photo back on the dresser. "Leah is just a nickname. My parents named me after Galileo, so my name is actually Galileah."

He flinched.

"I know. It's weird."

"Ga-li-leah?" he asked slowly.

"Yes." She wondered why he looked so shocked. "You don't like it?"

"I-I dinna realize how . . ."

"What?"

"Ka-li-lei," he whispered as he wandered back to the bed and sat on the edge. Staring at the floor, he shrugged his right shoulder.

"Is something wrong?" She approached him.

"Nay, it all seems verra . . . right." He rolled his shoulder again. "Sometimes my tattoo itches and burns."

"Is it infected?" She reached out to unbutton his shirt. "Let me see."

He frowned but didn't stop her. "Can ye accept me as I am? I'm far from perfect."

"You mean the vampire thing?" She finished unbuttoning his shirt. "I don't understand it, but I'm okay with it." She skimmed a hand over his tattoo. It didn't look infected.

"I left home when I was fourteen, too."

"You went to college? Or a boarding school?"

"Nay." His chest expanded as he took a deep breath. "I was kidnapped. Taken aboard a British merchant ship as forced labor."

"Oh, my gosh!" She sat on the bed beside him. "Are you kidding me? That's terrible!"

"I tried to escape. The first time, because I was young and ignorant, they gave me only ten lashes. But the second time, they gave me twenty-five." He took off his shirt and tossed it on the floor. "Ye should know what ye're getting with me."

She gasped when he twisted to the side. His back was crisscrossed with welts. "Oh, my God. Dougal." The poor man had carried these scars for almost three centuries.

Tears burned her eyes as she traced a scar with her fingertip. "This was so cruel." A fourteen-year-old boy, taken from his family and treated like this. "How did you survive?"

"There was a cook on board, an old Irishman, who took pity on me. He told me the best way to survive was to be valued by the crew. He did that by cooking for them and entertaining them with his bagpipes. First he taught me how to play the tin whistle. When I caught on quickly, he taught me to play the pipes."

"The Uilleann pipes?" She smoothed her fingers over each scar.

"Aye. After a few years, I had adjusted to my new life, but one time, when we were leaving India, we were attacked by some Indonesian pirates. I was captured and taken to Shanghai, where I was sold."

She flinched. "Sold?"

"Aye. A few years later, after I regained my freedom, I took on the dragon as a symbol of power and to hide my mark of shame." He turned toward her to show her his right shoulder. "This is where I was branded when I was seventeen. As a slave."

Wincing, she touched the raised skin. Whoever had done the tattoo had made the welts look like scales on the dragon. "I'm so sorry."

"Eventually I made it back to Scotland, but my family had died."

"And then you died at the Battle of Culloden," she finished, her eyes welling with tears. "Oh, Dougal." She placed her hands on his cheeks. "I'm so sorry."

"Doona fash. 'Twas long ago." He took her hands in his own. "I only told you about the scars 'cause I dinna want you to be alarmed or to think I was a criminal."

"How could I think poorly of you?" A tear ran down her face.

"Och." He swept it aside with his thumb. "I shouldna have told you. The last thing I want is yer pity."

"What do you want?"

"Ye doona know?" He gave her an exasperated look. "Lass, I've taken everything off but my kilt. And I can be rid of it in about three seconds."

She smiled, even though her face was growing hot. "You want me to desire you?"

"Aye."

Her skin tingled, and she wondered how quickly she could make his eyes turn red. With her fingertips, she traced the dragon where it curled around his chest. "Should I feel uncontrollable lust for you?"

"Aye."

His eyes were still green. She rubbed his nipple. "Should I have wild and crazy sex with you?"

"Aye. Please."

Still no change in his eyes. She smoothed her hand up to his face. "Should I confess to being madly in love with you?"

His eyes glowed red.

Bingo. Another tear rolled down her face. "Were ye waiting to hear the word love?"

"Aye." He cradled her face with his hands. "I've been praying ye could love me. For I love you with all my heart and soul."

"Oh, Dougal." More tears escaped, and he wiped them away.

"Leah." He kissed her gently, then sat back and grasped the lapels of her lab coat. "May I?"

"Yes." In two seconds, her lab coat was on the floor.

He kissed her again, then his fingers trailed down the front of her T-shirt, lingering over her breasts, then moving down to grab the hem. "May I?"

She smiled. "Yes." She lifted her arms as he whisked the T-shirt over her head, then tossed it on the floor.

Again he kissed her and smoothed his hands down to her bra. Under the thin silk, her nipples pebbled.

"Look at that," he whispered, rubbing his thumb over the hardened tip.

She sucked in shuddering breath. Moisture pooled between her legs.

His hands moved to the bra clasp on her back. "May I?"

"God, yes! Please!"

He unhooked her bra and flung it across the room. "Och, so lovely." He cupped her breasts, stroking the nipples with his thumbs. His eyes glowed a brighter red.

She squeezed her thighs together. "I can't take it anymore." She unfastened her jeans and pulled down the zipper.

"I was going to do that."

"You're too slow!" She wiggled, pushing the jeans over her hips.

"Ye're complaining already? We've barely gotten started." He stood and grasped the hem of her jeans. With a hard tug, he pulled them off so fast that she fell onto her back. "Ye realize now that ye've insulted my manhood."

She rose up onto her elbows. "I haven't even seen your manhood. 'Cause you're too slow!"

His mouth twitching, he grasped her ankles and lifted them up to his face. "As the injured party, I have the right to demand compensation." He nipped at her big toe.

More moisture seeped from her core. "What would you like?"

"To do as I please." He tickled her instep with his tongue, and her leg jerked in response.

"You wish."

"I do wish." He smoothed his hands down her legs to her hips, where he grabbed her underwear. In a few seconds he had them tossed aside, and he grasped her ankles again.

Her heart raced, and her breathing grew erratic.

Slowly he spread her legs and looked at her.

She shuddered.

"Och, lass. Ye've been shorn like a sheep." He rested her ankles on his shoulders while he touched her smooth waxed skin, then stroked the narrow strip of hair.

"Dougal." She pressed her heels into his shoulders, lifting her hips. "Please. Hurry."