“I should ’ave speared you with that pitchfork when I ’ad the chance,” Jamie rasped, subduing her with discouraging ease.

Bliss squeezed her eyes shut, bracing herself for the first stinging blow to her upended posterior.

It never arrived. Instead, with an exclamation of disgust, Jamie hurled her aside, so that she landed with an undignified thump on the ground. As her skirts were only inches from the fire, she snatched them out of harm’s way before glaring up at the man who sat regarding her with infuriating calmness.

“How dare you!” she cried, disobliged beyond all bearing.

“The question is,” Jamie inquired, rubbing his chin and frowning pensively, “what stopped me?”

The paralysis that had held Bliss in check was gone in that moment. She lunged at Jamie, not bothering to rise from her knees, both fists doubled up to hammer at his chest.

He caught her wrists in his hands and stayed the attack with a dismaying lack of effort. Gently, he drew Bliss forward, until she was trapped between his knees and her mouth was only inches from his, suspended there, waiting.

After muttering a curse, he kissed her, angrily at first, as a punishment, and then with an unrestrained hunger that set Bliss to aching for his possession. She would have given herself to him, then and there, if he’d pressed her, but he didn’t.

In a sudden change of attitude, he shot to his feet, hauling a dazed Bliss roughly along with him. “Blisterin’ you would ’ave been a better idea,” he grumbled, half wrenching and half hurling her away from the fire and into the chilly darkness that surrounded its wavering glow.

Bliss had been through a great deal in recent days, and especially in the last few hours, and she was overwhelmed. Tears of unadulterated self-pity filled her eyes, and she made a small, despairing sound.

The sun was just rising over the sea, which glimmered in the distance, and Bliss could see the sorrel standing patiently in the brisk morning breeze, steam puffing from its nostrils as it snuffled a greeting to its master.

“H-how did you find me?” Bliss dared to ask.

“It was an accident,” Jamie retorted, scowling at her from beneath the brim of his disreputable leather hat.

Her satchel was hooked over the saddle by its handle, and Bliss was as glad to see it as she would have been to encounter an old and sympathetic friend. She sniffed as Jamie continued to ignore her and began untying the sorrel’s reins from a low tree branch.

“You might at least have the decency to ask if I’m all right,” she pointed out.

Jamie didn’t look at her. “I might, but I’m not going to,” he responded crisply. “Consider yourself lucky, Duchess. If I’m inclined toward anything right now, it’s plain, old-fashioned murder.”

The dawn air was cool, and Bliss hugged herself, trying to keep warm. She could feel her tears drying on her face. “Jamie, I—” The words froze in her throat, nearly choking her. After an internal struggle, she tried again. “I—I’m sorry.”