“Do you realize,” she inquired, in a ringing voice, “that you are dealing with Jamie McKenna?” Dimly, she heard her husband mutter a curse.

The brigands remained where they were, some of them grinning.

“It’s not working, Jamie,” Bliss complained in a whisper. “They’re not running away—”

Jamie caught hold of the back of her skirt and wrenched her down onto the seat, hard. There was an easy smile on his face as he regarded the men, though Bliss could sense his wire-tight alertness. Inwardly, he was making ready for a fight.

The bushrangers parted as one man rode forward. He was dark-haired and handsome, in a smarmy sort of way, and the leisurely inspection he gave Bliss made her skin creep. Finally, he shifted his gaze to Jamie’s face.

“I’m not sure,” he said, addressing the seven men behind him. “It’s been a long time.”

The side of Jamie’s leg, touching Bliss’s, was rigid, though that same unruffled smile still curved his lips. His fingers were already caressing the handle of the knife he’d kept close at hand, and he didn’t speak.

The insolent ringleader’s eyes had strayed back to Bliss. “That’s a fine-lookin’ woman, mate,” he observed. He rode nearer, and that was when Bliss noticed that the man’s nose was grossly misshapen, as though he’d fallen upon it from a great height. “You are Jamie McKenna, aren’t you?” he asked, squinting. “Like the little lady said?”

Jamie didn’t reply, and Bliss wondered why he wasn’t speaking up for himself, telling these rounders to be on about their business. Although he was tense, it was apparent that Jamie wasn’t afraid.

He handed the reins to Bliss without looking at her and climbed down from the wagon to stand facing the villains square in the middle of the roadway. Bliss’s heart began slamming against her rib cage, and even though the morning was bitterly cold, perspiration moistened her skin.

The leader and several of his companions dismounted.

“I asked you if you be Jamie McKenna, mate,” the dark-haired man said. He was clearly losing his patience. “It’d be best if you answered.”

“Maybe he ain’t McKenna,” reasoned one of the men still on horseback.

At that moment Bliss felt something cold against the side of her hand and looked down. Unbelievably, Jamie had left his knife behind on the wagon seat—he was facing those men with no other weapons than his wits and his own two hands.

“I know how to find out,” the kingpin said, and again his gaze traveled over Bliss.

Suppressing a shudder, she closed her hand around the hilt of Jamie’s knife and readied herself for battle.

“Fetch that pretty thing down from the wagon,” ordered the leader, after a sly glance at Jamie. “We’ll have a little fun with her, whether this bloke’s the one we want or not.”

For the first time, Jamie spoke. “You’ll be disappointed,” he said coolly. “She doesn’t know the first thing about pleasin’ a man.”

The calm amusement in Jamie’s voice was, for Bliss, as lethal as a blow. She felt the color drain from her face as his disdainful words echoed in her mind. Two men came at her, lust in their eyes, their breath making white plumes in the cold air.