Despite the fact that Bliss had led a relatively sheltered life, she well understood what had happened, and she was furious. “You pinched her!” she accused, struggling to keep her voice low.

Jamie only nodded, watching her in an insolent way that challenged her to protest.

Bliss plunged her fork into the meat pie in front of her with a ferocious motion of her hand. “Libertine,” she muttered.

Jamie shrugged and began eating his supper with zest. Too soon, the meal was finished and the simpering Dorrie was showing the way to their room. It was on the ground floor, toward the back of the inn; though small and cramped, and close to the kitchen in the bargain, it looked clean enough.

Bliss eyed the one bed ruefully.

“The bed’s real soft, gov’nor,” Dorrie was telling Jamie flirtatiously. “I’ve tested it meself.”

“I’ll just bet you have,” Bliss interceded icily. “That will be all, and thank you very much.”

Jamie handed the creature a coin and, after seeing her out, he leaned against the door and assessed Bliss with a flicker of mischief in his eyes. “Tired, Duchess?” he asked sympathetically.

Bliss was exhausted, and every part of her body ached. “Yes. If you’ll just turn away, I’d like to get into bed.”

After only a second’s deliberation, Jamie turned his broad back to Bliss and folded his arms. “Where am I supposed to sleep?” he asked reasonably.

“In that chair, by the fire,” Bliss suggested, proceeding to tear off her coat and struggle out of the black silk evening dress beneath it. She was wearing only drawers and her petticoat, which she’d pulled up to cover her breasts, when she slipped into bed.

She snuggled down beneath the covers and appeared to be sound asleep before her traveling companion could offer a reply of any sort.

“God’s eyeballs,” Jamie muttered, looking grimly at the ladderback chair facing the fireplace. He was worn out, having spent much of the night before sitting straight up and all day traveling, and he’d been looking forward to stretching out on a mattress.

Bliss shifted restlessly and made a crooning sound in her sleep, and Jamie went to the bedside and looked down at her. He felt tenderness, followed by a familiar, grinding ache in his groin, and he moved resolutely away. If he made love to the Duchess, he’d be no better than any of those bleeders out front, swilling ale and lying to each other.

He considered visiting Dorrie—she’d taken pains to let him know where she slept and when she’d be through waiting tables—but immediately decided against it. Much as he might have wanted things to be different, he desired only one woman.

One small, trusting, stubborn woman, misnamed Bliss.

With a grin and a slight shrug, Jamie decided that one last mug of ale would serve to bring on a sound sleep. After glancing out the single window and taking one more look at Bliss, he left the room, closing the door and turning the key in the lock.