“Do you love her?”

Now that was a strange thing for a mate to ask, Jamie thought. But his brain was too whiskey-fogged to move beyond this observation. “Aye,” he answered. “More than me life.”

With that, he finished his drink, tossed a bit of money on the bar, and walked out.

* * *

Bliss sat huddled in the middle of the bed, misery personified. Promptly at ten the next morning, Mrs. Wilmington would collect her and, probably with a great deal of fuss and ceremony, the two women would set out together for the harbor. Their ship was scheduled to sail at noon.

A feeling of dreadful homesickness washed over Bliss—and her not even gone yet—leaving her shaken and sick. She loved Jamie so much that it was all she could do not to go to him on bended knee and beg him for the privilege of living in his house and wearing his ring.

But Bliss’s pride wouldn’t let her do this. A marriage based on such cowardice would be no marriage at all.

The suite’s door opened and closed and she waited, holding her breath. Instead of joining her in their room, however, Bliss heard Jamie knock softly at the door of the other bedchamber.

Jamie had gone to Peony for his comfort.

Despair made Bliss sway and cover her mouth with one hand. In agony, she rocked back and forth, back and forth, hugging herself as if to hold in the terrible pain of Jamie’s betrayal.

He must have been with Peony for an hour or so, but that time was an eternity to Bliss, during which she suffered all the torments of hell. Then Jamie came to their bed, at last, and sat down heavily on the edge. He reeked of whiskey.

Bliss, pretending to be asleep, was all but choking on her rage; her throat was raw with the effort of holding back screams of fury, and her hands were knotted into fists. She wanted so desperately to batter that broad, impervious back with them.

Jamie was unbuttoning his shirt. After that, he kicked off his boots and then stood to unfasten his trousers. Bliss ached to think that this was the second bed he’d undressed beside that night, and not the first.

A tormented sob tore itself from her throat, betraying her.

“Are you all right?” Jamie spoke hoarsely, as a guilty man might. Then he drew back the covers and climbed into bed with Bliss.

She could bear no more. With a shriek, she flung herself at him in wrath, striking him in as many places as she could, as many times as she could. He finally grasped both her wrists in his hands to halt the siege, and when she continued to struggle against him, he hurled her onto her back.

The breath had been knocked out of her; Bliss could only stare up into Jamie’s glittering eyes in anguished silence.

“Why, Duchess?” he rasped after a few moments. “Why?”