Bliss rarely wept; she’d found it such a fruitless occupation in the past. Now, however, faced with the prospect of a lifetime spent curtsying and crawling to a man she didn’t love, she gave free rein to her emotions. A heartsick, snuffling wail escaped her, and she covered her face with both hands.

Jamie McKenna’s voice was surprisingly gentle. “Don’t cry, please,” he pleaded hoarsely, crouching in front of her chair. “It can’t be as bad as all that, now can it?”

“It’s every bit as bad, and worse!” Bliss sobbed. She fought for the dignity to blurt out, “Rest assured—you shall have me on your conscience, Mr. McKenna, for the rest of your life!”

He gave a rueful chuckle and straightened, taking one of Bliss’s hands in his and pulling her easily to her feet. His next motion should have incensed and terrified Bliss, but instead she found it comforting. Jamie McKenna lifted her into his arms, seemingly expending no more effort than if she’d been a child.

“There, now,” he said, his voice coming rough and soft from the depths of his throat. “I doubt if this bloke is as bad as all that. What you want is a good night’s sleep, Duchess.”

Bliss stared at him, blinking away her tears. Her arms had automatically wound themselves around his neck. Perhaps there was still hope of escape, if she remembered to keep her wits about her. “I don’t want to be alone,” she heard herself say.

Jamie laughed softly. “Don’t worry—I wouldn’t think of turnin’ me back on you. You might be out the window again.”

He paused to quench the flame in the lamp, then carried Bliss through the darkness, up invisible stairs, along a hallway glowing faintly with stray shafts of moonlight.

Bliss marveled at herself. She’d always been independent and strong-minded. Now, just because Jamie McKenna had lifted her into his arms, she had all the resistance of an unstarched petticoat. “Put me down,” she said, but she didn’t mean a word of it and Jamie obviously knew that.

He carried her into a darkened room with a rumpled, unmade bed and tossed her onto the mattress. “Reminds me of another night,” he muttered, sitting down on the edge of the bed to wrestle off his boots. “In Melbourne, it was.”

Albeit at a rather late date, Bliss had recovered her strength of character. “Now, just a minute!” she sputtered, inching toward the side of the bed. “You can’t possibly think that I’m going to spend the night—”

In a deft motion of one hand, Jamie reached out, caught her wrist in a grasp as steely as a manacle, and effectively pinned her in place. “That’s exactly what I think. I’m not about to let you out of me sight, Duchess.”

Bliss’s heart was thumping in her throat. If she screamed, would Carra come to her aid? “What are you going to do?”

“Dived out of a carriage, she did,” Jamie went on, as though Bliss hadn’t spoken. He stretched out on the bed, fully clothed, and she had no choice but to do the same, since he was still holding on to her wrist. “Came rolling toward me like a Texas tumbleweed.”