Cutter ran for the door like a man with hot grease in his mouth, but even when he was outside, his guffaws of laughter sounded clearly in the kitchen.

Jamie muttered every oath he knew as he stormed outside, egg basket in hand. He was never going to hear the last of this. He’d be the laughingstock of every sheep camp in New Zealand.

Jamie sat at his desk in the study, head bent over a pile of ledger books, hand moving swiftly as he figured. Bliss was in the rocking chair near the fire with a book in her lap.

She’d been over the beginning four times and still hadn’t made sense of it. “Jamie,” she ventured.

He didn’t look up. “What?” he asked shortly.

“I only cried because you brought me all those lovely things and I couldn’t even surprise you with a yellow cake.”

Jamie’s pencil stopped its rapid motion, but he was far too stubborn to meet her eyes. “No worries,” he said remotely.

Bliss set her book aside, got out of the chair, and approached her husband, standing behind him to massage his taut shoulders. “I don’t believe you, Mr. McKenna,” she said softly. “I think you’re very worried.”

“Shows what you know,” he muttered, but his muscles were relaxing beneath Bliss’s hands and, probably without even knowing it, he let the pencil fall to his ledger book.

Bliss bent and kissed his temple. “I know more than you think I do,” she persisted.

Jamie sighed. “Is that so, then?”

“Yes,” she said firmly. “I know that I embarrassed you in front of Cutter, and I’m sorry. It’s just that I’m about to—I get very cranky when—” Her voice fell away, in utter embarrassment.

Jamie turned in his chair to look up at her and what she saw in his face hurt her terribly. He understood what she was trying to say, that she’d have the curse any day, and he was relieved.

Relieved that his irksome wife wasn’t about to burden him with a child he didn’t want.

She backed away from him, fighting back the tears that were always so close to the surface. “Oh Jamie,” she whispered brokenly. “Jamie.”

He stood and reached out for her, but she shrank back, shaking her head.

“Don’t touch me,” she said.

“Bliss—”

Again, she shook her head. “I—I think it’s best that you’ll be going away for a while,” she managed to say.

She’d forgotten how quickly he could move; he’d caught her chin in his hand and forced her to meet his eyes before she had an inkling of what he intended. “Does that mean you’re plannin’ to leave again?” he demanded in a furious undertone. “If it does, Duchess, tell me now.”

A soft, ragged sob escaped Bliss. “I won’t go, Jamie McKenna, till you send me away!”

He searched her face, as though desperate to believe her, and then released her. “Go to bed,” he said harshly, and went back to his damnable ledger books and his figures.