“I will go to bed when and if I choose,” Bliss said with dignity, “and it won’t be with you, Mr. McKenna.”

“Fine,” Jamie snapped, concentrating on his books.

Bliss picked up the volume she’d closed earlier and, after a moment’s thought, slammed it down on the desk as hard as she could. The report was as loud as a gunshot and, she noted with satisfaction, she had Jamie’s full attention.

“What the ’ell are you tryin’ to do?” he demanded, glaring at her.

“I want to know why you don’t want me to have your child,” Bliss informed him bluntly, and even though everything she valued, everything she loved, was riding on his answer, her look was level. Fearless.

“It’s a big responsibility, a child,” he hedged, averting his eyes.

“Not good enough, Jamie,” Bliss persisted, folding her arms. “You seem happy to make love to me. Hasn’t it ever occurred to you that a baby could be conceived?”

He didn’t answer, and Bliss could only conclude that he didn’t want her to be the mother of his children. Perhaps he found her wanting, or he had someone else in mind.

She took her book and left the study without looking back, Dog slinking along after her, and when she’d reached the top of the stairs and entered the room she and Jamie shared, she locked the door.

It would have been easier, she supposed, if she’d been able to go right to sleep, but she didn’t. She couldn’t. She tossed and turned, her heart aching.

Sometime later, she heard Jamie in the hallway. When he tried the doorknob, Bliss held her breath, but he only said, “Good night, Duchess,” in a low, despairing voice, and went away.

It was all Bliss could do not to run after him and beg him to lie beside her, where he belonged, and to hold her in his arms. She resisted, though, and somewhere in the blackest, bleakest part of the night, she fell asleep.

When she awakened the next morning, Bliss knew that the house was empty, except for Dog, who was whining in the hallway. Feeling unbearably lonely, she pushed back the covers and moved to sit up.

The cramps grabbed at her like a powerful, squeezing fist, and she lay back down with a groan of pain. Not only was the house barren; so, for the time being anyway, was her body.

Tears seeped through her eyelashes. Maybe Jamie didn’t want her to bear his child, but she would. If it was the last thing Bliss ever did, she vowed to herself, twisting the golden band on her finger and biting down on her lower lip, she would bear that stubborn blue-eyed Irishman’s baby.

Chapter 20

BLISS WAS IN NO MOOD FOR AN EXTENDED TUSSLE WITH THAT hell-born rooster. After a careful search of the premises, she found a dirty, rusted old washtub in the barn and hauled it to the doorway of the chicken coop. Dog stood nearby, looking on, his head tilted to one side.