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He propped himself up on his elbows and kissed her until she couldn’t help wiggling restlessly under him.

“If my father is coming to London, and you’re insisting on a marriage license, this is your only chance for extramarital congress, Jonah.” She gave him a mock frown.

He laughed again, his voice deep and husky. “You’re perfect, do you know that?”

She did. In that moment, as the love of her life gave her a possessive, desirous look? As he caught her arse in one of those huge hands and put her in just the right position? As he filled her with pleasure?

She knew.

“I love you,” Jonah growled.

The words were true and deep, coming from his soul and his heart. Bea went up in flames, because making love was too beautiful and too perfect to speak.

Which meant that long minutes later, when he finally stopped thrusting and gave one final shove, filing her to the hilt, driving her to ecstasy and making her cry aloud …

She cupped his face, still panting, and said “I love you, Jonah. Duke.”

“My duchess,” he said on a groan, his gaze burning into her. “I will love you forever.”

For a time, they lay tangled up with each other, enjoying the way the carriage offered a mimicry of the fiercer motion they had just created on their own.

“I can’t believe you seduced me in a carriage.” Bea said sleepily.

A moment of silence, and then Jonah said, “Carriages are like stables, Bea. The sound is easy to separate. There’s the street outside versus the space inside. I can focus on you and hear every moan, every word, every cry.”

“So, are you saying that there are other long carriage rides in my future?”

“If you will allow.”

She dropped a kiss on his shoulder.

Jonah was pretty sure she didn’t mind that idea. In fact, he meant to buy one of those new-fangled carriages: the ones where one seat slid under the other and the whole thing turned into a bed.

Cheshire was a big county with much to explore, after all.

“I can’t wait to take you to my estate,” Jonah said. “Do you suppose that we could go directly after the ceremony? It will take approximately three days.”

Bea was lying half on top of him, the gentle pressure of her breasts against his chest, bringing him halfway to arousal again. It might be a lifelong condition, he thought, and tightened his arms around her.

His was the joy of the cat who found the cream, the whale after expelling Jonah: the most simple, base pleasure of the body.

“I don’t even know where your estate is!” Bea said, a pang of surprise sounding through her sleepy voice.

“Cheshire.”

Her head popped up. “Truly?”

“Truly.”

She rubbed her cheek against his chest. “You are the perfect man for me. I’m from Cheshire, and I love it. Tell me about the duchy. That’s the right term, isn’t it?”

Jonah ran a hand down her back. “The main building is medieval, with a cobbled courtyard, but lots of Lennoxes added their bit in years after. We have a turret, and a cupula, and even a cloistered interior garden, with a walkway that runs through a string of pillars. Great Tudor chimneys that stand out against the sky when it’s not raining. Eight of them.”

“It sounds fancy.”

He thought she sounded alarmed, so he let his careless caress turn warmer, fingers curving around her hip, assuring her that there was nothing fancy about him and his farmer’s hands. “Not really. There are coats of arms every place you look, but most of them were badly carved by local workmen. A couple of the unicorns look like pigs wearing admirals’ hats. There are stone cornices over the windows, each of them topped with a rampant unicorn. Most of the horns have broken off, so they look like stallions with three ears.”

Bea kissed his neck. “Fancy stallions.”