The inside was dark, but there was electricity, and Jamie turned a switch, revealing an elegant entry hall and curving stairway. “There’s a fireplace in our room,” he said, taking Bliss’s hand and starting up the stairway.

She had no choice but to follow. This, of course, was the house Jamie meant to cage her up in, and by rights, she should have been angry. She supposed she wasn’t because he’d said “our room,” like they were going to be a real married couple.

Then Bliss remembered that she was never going to live in this house, with or without Jamie, and she couldn’t help it. She started to cry.

Inside the spacious master bedroom, with its floor-to-ceiling windows and gracious ivory fireplace, Jamie pulled her close, his hands resting on the small of her back.

“What’s the trouble, Duchess?” he asked.

Bliss rested her forehead against his chest, her shoulders trembling as silent sobs shook her. Tell me you love me, Jamie, she wanted to say. Tell me that you’re going to live here with me, and that I’m going to have your children.

When Bliss didn’t speak, Jamie reached inside his coat pocket with one hand and produced a small box, which he rubbed against the underside of her chin. “Maybe this will make you feel better,” he said.

Bliss stepped back and he put the box in her palm. She sniffled inelegantly and lifted the satin-covered lid. “Oh Jamie,” she marveled as an emerald ring, with a halo of diamonds, winked and shimmered at her.

He took the ring from the box and slipped it onto the very finger where a wedding band would go, and Bliss’s heart nearly stopped at the significance of that. She lifted her eyes to Jamie’s face, but his features looked watery.

He laughed and raised her hand to his lips. “What do you think of your gilded cage, Duchess?” he teased.

Bliss pulled her hand away, prepared to give back the ring if it came to that. She hoped, of course, that it wouldn’t. “I won’t live in a cage, Jamie McKenna,” she warned. “No matter how splendid it is.”

He caught hold of her again; his lips were brushing her palm and the inside of her wrist, where the skin was sensitive. Little heated shivers went through her. “Ummhmm,” he agreed.

Bliss trembled. “I’m serious,” she insisted.

Jamie dropped her hand and drew her up hard against him, his head tilted to one side so that his lips were only a hair’s breadth from hers. “Shut up,” he said.

His kiss threatened to consume her. All thoughts of America and of the strange, scary old man she’d encountered fled her mind as Jamie’s magic began. He filled her thoughts and her senses until there was no room for anything or anyone else.

She was never sure whether he lowered her to the cool marble floor or she simply sank there because her knees would not support her. Without breaking the kiss, he laid aside her cloak and opened the buttons at her bodice. She knew, when his hand slipped in to cup her breast, why he’d shown such partiality to that particular dress when she’d tried it on at the store.