Bliss arched her back as a shaft of joy knifed through her, and Jamie didn’t relax his efforts. “I didn’t—oooooh—know—” She dragged air into her lungs, starved for it, unable to get enough. “Oh, Jamie, I’m so—sorry I t-troubled you—I love you—I love you—”

“Shhh,” he said, and he began kissing the undersides of her breasts, and then her rib cage, and then her belly, progressing ever closer to where his fingers wreaked such delicious havoc.

But Bliss maneuvered him back, until his lips covered hers in a kiss every bit as desperate as the one she returned to him. Long moments later, when the contact was broken, his breathing was ragged.

Bliss unbuttoned his shirt, as far as she could, and slid her hands inside, urging him toward her with light caresses that seemed to leave a fever in his flesh wherever they touched.

Now, Bliss wasn’t too proud to plead. “Come to me, Jamie,” she whispered. “Love me. I need you so much—”

He laughed softly, and the sound was a mingling of joy and torment. “On that thing? I’ve seen bookshelves wider than that bed.”

“Jamie,” Bliss insisted, drawing him back into her kiss. There were no more protests after that; his tongue sparred fiercely with hers and then, in a wink, he’d shed his clothes and poised himself above her.

“It’s only fair to say,” he whispered hoarsely, “that every day I’ve known you ’as been sheer ’ell. And for all that, Duchess, I wouldn’t change a minute of it.”

Bliss felt tears of happiness and humor burn in her eyes. She tilted her head back and raised her hips in proud surrender, for that was the only way she could answer, and Jamie entered her with a fiery stroke and broken, incoherent words of need and love.

Chapter 19

YAWNING, HER MIND HAPPILY BEFUDDLED FROM THE DELIGHTFUL rituals Jamie had put her through in the sleeping car, Bliss strained to make out the train depot in the predawn darkness.

There was nothing to be seen, except for the outline of a tiny shack with a crooked chimney and the team and wagon waiting nearby. The horses nickered and pranced as the train whistle shrilled in the gloom.

Jamie leaped to the ground and then lifted Bliss after him. Her trunks were unloaded with unceremonious dispatch and left in a heap beside the tracks.

A dog began barking in protest as the whistle blew again and the train huffed away into the night, wheels making a raucous squeak against the metal rails.

As they approached the wagon, Bliss recognized the bushy figure of Cutter O’Riley. “Hello, Jamie boy,” he said. He tipped his hat as Jamie hoisted his wife up into the seat. “And hello to you, too, missus,” he added.

Bliss yawned, politely covering her mouth with one hand and settling herself, as best she could, on the hard seat. “Hello, Cutter,” she responded. Behind her, in the wagon bed, Dog whined and nudged her shoulder until he’d had a greeting, too.