She shifted uneasily on the bench, afraid to speak.

“You was a bit ’ard on ’em, Jamie boy,” protested Dorrie, and there was an intimacy in the remark that distracted Bliss, however momentarily, from the immediacy of her situation. “It’s cold out there, and it’s dark.”

“So it is,” Jamie conceded. “Be a love, Dorrie, and fetch them back.” For the first time, he seemed aware of the travelers seated at the tables around the dining hall. “Ale for everybody,” he added as a generous afterthought.

A coarse cheer rose and, before Bliss could decide what to do next, Jamie’s fingers closed inescapably around the nape of her neck. He drew her to her feet as easily as a fiddler draws music from a violin, and even though he caused her no pain at all, she couldn’t remember being more uncomfortable.

“You and I, my love,” he said, “are going to have a word or two—in private.” With that, Jamie propelled Bliss across the dining room, lewd cries of encouragement rising on every side, since the crowd entirely misread the bridegroom’s intentions.

At least, Bliss hoped they did.

They proceeded down the hall and into their room, and Jamie kicked the door closed behind them with the heel of one boot.

“I’ve been waiting for a chance to explain,” Bliss was quick to say. Jamie had at last released his hold on her, and she retreated a few steps, only to feel the foot of the bed come up hard against the back of her legs.

“Oh, I’ll just bet you have,” Jamie said, with an unnerving tone of indulgence in his voice. Bliss hadn’t missed the fact that his jawline had gone tight again and his eyes were glittering, and she was careful to keep her distance.

She swallowed hard, remembering Jamie’s shady past and his deftness with a blade, and eased to one side so that the bed no longer barred her retreat. “I beg you, just take me to Auckland—o-or Wellington. An annulment should be easy to get, given the fact that we’re not—we won’t—” Bliss paused to swallow again, miserably embarrassed. “In any case, I can still travel to America and you can go on about your business.”

Jamie held up both hands, palms out. “Wait a minute. It seems to me, Duchess, that you’re assumin’ a great deal. After all, as your ’usband, I’ve got me rights.”

Bliss bit down on her lower lip. She’d known Jamie McKenna for only a very short time, but she already knew that, when he fell into the brogue, his mood was generally uncharitable. “Rights?” she whispered, fairly choking on the word.

He folded his muscular arms. “Aye, Duchess,” he replied. “Rights.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” Bliss lied valiantly.

Jamie smiled a slow, obnoxious smile. “I think you do,” he replied. He shifted, placing his hands on his hips, and looked pensive for a few moments. “I’m going out and celebrate me weddin’ with a mug or two,” he announced presently. “When I come back, I’ll be expectin’ you to be in bed and ready.”