“I didn’t see what the fat lady did with her sword,” Bliss complained, sitting down on the edge of the bed to kick off her blue satin slippers, which were beginning to pinch.

“If she asked,” Jamie responded dryly, “I’d be ’appy to tell her what to do with that damn sword.”

Bliss began to smile, but then she remembered Mrs. Minerva Wilmington’s calling card, tucked away in her handbag, and a feeling of desolation swept over her. America seemed so very far away.

Jamie had noted the change in her expression, and he crossed the room to tuck one finger under her chin and lift it. Though his gaze was tender, that besotted look was no longer in evidence. “What is it, Duchess?” he asked. “Peony?”

Bliss had honestly forgotten about her husband’s mistress, as incredible as that seemed, but she was quick to grasp an acceptable excuse for her mood. After all, she couldn’t very well just blurt out that she was feeling sad at the idea of running away to the States.

She sniffed haughtily. “Perhaps,” she conceded, unwilling to commit herself completely.

Jamie laughed and drew her to her feet, then held her close. Bliss felt herself flush with heat as now-familiar reactions to such intimate contact went through her body.

“You were a wonder in the carriage tonight,” he whispered, his lips so close to hers that she could feel their softness, power, and warmth. “I thought I’d surely die of the pleasure, Duchess.”

Bliss’s cheeks were hot, no doubt making her freckles stand out on her face like dabs of brown paint, but she took a certain pride in knowing that she’d won such a confession from Jamie. He rarely spoke of his feelings.

The room seemed to dip and undulate and spin, all at once, as Jamie kissed her. His tongue explored the depths of her mouth and his hands cupped her bottom, pressing her close so that she could not help knowing the extent of his desire.

Bliss was ready to surrender fully when a sudden, insistent pounding began at the outer door of the suite. Muttering a string of curses, Jamie made sure his shirttails were still tucked into his trousers and went to answer. Weak in the knees, Bliss sank to the edge of the bed, struggling to breathe properly again, and listened with only half an ear to the exchange at the door.

She had gathered only that it concerned Peony when there was a slamming sound and Jamie came back to the bedroom, fairly tearing off his fancy linen shirt as he moved. Bliss was stunned to see that he’d been wearing his knife and scabbard, even with his evening clothes.

Jamie swore all the while he was changing into his customary rough trousers, cotton shirt, and boots.

“What. .. ?” Bliss finally managed as a beginning, having just then fully recovered from the kiss he’d given her earlier.

Jamie spat another colorful string of oaths, then stormed out in search of his hat and his sheepskin coat. “When I get me ’ands on that bleedin’ coward—” he vowed through his teeth.