Bliss sighed. “Only because my husband is in love with another woman,” she said patiently.

Unexpectedly, Jamie stopped, and one of his hands rose to grasp her chin. His blue eyes glittered as he rasped, “I’ve ’ad all I can take of that nonsense, Bliss. I’ll not ’ear another word about Peony, is that clear?”

“I’ll tell you what that is, Jamie McKenna!” Bliss cried, boiling over. She tried, and failed, to twist free of his hold on her chin. “It’s mighty damn convenient for you!”

“So it is,” Jamie agreed insolently. “So it is, Duchess.” With that, he caught Bliss’s elbow in his hand and started thrusting her down the street again.

There was something in his manner that warned Bliss not to press him. She bit back all the angry things she wanted to say and, as best she could, matched her strides to his long, angry ones.

She was exhausted by the time they reached the hotel.

Jamie was not inclined toward mercy, however. He dragged her into the lift, knowing she hated it, and tipped his hat to the operator.

When they had reached their floor and the metal door clanged open, Walter was waiting to step inside the lift. His right eye was blue and purple, and swollen shut, and he backed away at the sight of Jamie.

“You really did hit him!” Bliss marveled, outraged.

Jamie’s smile was lethal. “And I’d do it again,” he assured her.

Walter slid along the wall as Jamie and Bliss passed him in the hallway, then he dived into the lift. Jamie chuckled to himself, pausing in front of the door of the suite. Jagged wood and a hanging knob indicated that he had not picked the lock at all, but forced it, probably with the heel of one boot. Bliss’s mouth rounded into an O.

“Some locks are easier to ’andle than others,” Jamie observed dryly. Then he pushed the door inward and executed a sweeping bow. “After you, Duchess,” he said.

Bliss had serious misgivings about proceeding into that suite, but she didn’t have any viable alternatives. After drawing a deep, shaky breath, she entered the rooms where she had spent so many hours as a virtual captive.

She lowered her head. If she were to be entirely honest, those had been some of the happiest hours of her life.

“I suppose now you’re going to make good on your promise and—and blister me.”

Jamie had gone to pour himself a drink at the liquor cabinet along the far wall, and Bliss couldn’t read his face because his back was turned to her. He took a thoughtful sip of his whiskey before replying, “I suppose I should. A man’s got to keep ’is word.”

“Not necessarily,” Bliss pointed out hopefully.

At that, Jamie gave a hoarse chuckle and turned to look at her. There was no sign of amusement in his eyes, only a haunted, mystified expression. “God ’elp me, Duchess, I couldn’t lay a ’and on you even if I caught you tryin’ to cut me throat.” He pushed his hat to the back of his head and looked away. “I’ll thank you not to put me through another day like this one,” he added presently. “I’m not as young as I used to be.”