Bliss’s stomach grumbled, and she lifted her chin at the sound of Jamie’s chuckle. The man missed nothing.

Once Jamie had guided her to a smaller table, not far from the huge fireplace, Bliss moved to take off her coat. Remembering the low-cut evening dress beneath, however, she hesitated.

A heavy, lumbering man with coarse lips and a bulbous nose approached the table. He wore a stained apron over his broad middle, but his eyes were friendly as he glanced at Bliss and then greeted Jamie. “’Ello, mate, and welcome. Tea for the lady?”

Jamie nodded, ordering a mug of ale for himself and two venison pies as well.

Even though Bliss was ravenously hungry by that time, she resented Jamie’s blithe presumption in choosing her supper fare for her. “What if I’d wanted something different to eat?” she asked in a whisper, bending toward him.

He smiled in the flickering light of the fire and the kerosene lamps. “Then you would’ve been out of luck, Duchess, because venison pie is all they serve here.”

“Oh,” Bliss said, settling back as best she could. The truth was that the bench she was sitting upon was every bit as hard as the seat of Jamie’s wagon. It was a mercy, though, that it didn’t roll and pitch about; she couldn’t have borne much more of that.

The tea was brought by a young woman with a lush figure and heavy brown hair that threatened to fall from its pins. Her full lips formed a pout as she inspected Bliss.

“This your missus, then, Jamie boy?” she fussed.

Bliss was about to interject a comment of her own when Jamie answered smoothly, “Aye, lass, this is me lovely wife. See we ’ave a good soft bed and a warm fire for the night, won’t you?”

The “lass” was fuming as she walked away, but she was no angrier than Bliss.

“How dare you introduce me as your wife and ask for a soft bed?” she hissed, her hand trembling as she reached out to pour herself a much-needed cup of tea.

Jamie was unruffled. His ale had arrived with Bliss’s pot of tea, and he took a leisurely draft of the potion before replying, “These blokes aren’t the gentlemanly sort, sweetness. If they get the idea that you’re fair game, you and I are both going to have to fight for our honor.”

Bliss felt a shudder move up her back as she risked a glance around the inn’s crowded main room. Now that she thought about it, it was odd that there were so many men about, considering how isolated the place was. “These men are—criminals?” she whispered.

Jamie nodded solemnly. “Stay close to me, Duchess, and you’ll be safe enough.”

Bliss was taking no chances. She didn’t look away from Jamie’s face as she lifted her teacup to her lips. “I’m not sharing a room with you,” she swore tremulously.

Jamie grinned. The petulant serving girl, who said her name was Dorrie, had brought the meat pies, and their metal tins made a clanking sound as she slammed them down onto the table. She gave a little squeal and flinched, and Jamie’s grin grew wider as the cheap trollop giggled and scampered away.