A single tear streaked down the side of her face and, as luck would have it, Cutter noticed.

It softened him somehow. “Oh, lass—I’m sorry,” he said. “If you be Jamie’s wife, it’s sure that you’ve given him your heart, and here I am telling you things to cause you pain.”

With a brave sniffle, Bliss wiped her cheek dry with the back of her hand. She lifted her chin and straightened her shoulders. “There’s no love lost between Mr. McKenna and me,” she said. “We had our own reasons for marrying—purely practical reasons.”

There was a gentle twinkle in Cutter’s eyes, which were a soft green in color. “Aye, lass,” he agreed. “Whatever you say. Now, be you hungry or in need of tea, the way ladies sometimes is?”

Bliss couldn’t help smiling a little. Jamie’s friend had a certain crude charm, now that she thought about it. “I’d like a cup of tea very much, if you have it,” she responded, casting a doubtful look toward the shelves beside the stove, where Cutter’s meager store of foodstuffs seemed to be kept. “And I am just a bit hungry, thank you.”

Pleased that there was something he could do to make up for his earlier gaffe, Cutter shooed Bliss toward the table, and when she was seated, he filled a kettle with water dipped from a bucket and set it on to boil. Then, he brought out cheese and bread and Bliss ate generous helpings of both, being careful not to look at the food too closely.

While tea usually made her feel wide-awake, that cupful set her to yawning and sent her stumbling toward the bed where Jamie lay. Seeing there was room, she lay down carefully, not wanting to cause him discomfort, and closed her eyes.

She was only dimly aware that Cutter had spread Jamie’s blanket so that it covered her, too.

Jamie was awake when Bliss opened her eyes, hours later, at first uncertain where she was. When she saw his swollen, bruised, and lacerated face, she remembered everything and sat bolt upright.

She was full of sleepy exultation to see that Jamie was well enough to grin at her, and that gave her license to be angry with him. “May God curse the day you were born, Jamie McKenna!” she hissed, flinging back the blanket and moving to scramble off the bed.

Jamie restrained her with surprising strength, considering what he’d been through. Cutter cleared his throat and made some excuse about seeing to the horses, then hurried out of the cottage.

“Oh, no, Duchess,” her husband said evenly. “You’re not goin’ to make a remark like that and then flit off like a butterfly. What’s the matter?”

“What’s the matter?” Bliss mimicked furiously, trying in vain to pull free of his grasp on her wrist. “What’s the matter indeed!”

Light dawned in Jamie’s pitiably distorted face. “Oh,” he said, remembering, and his fingers went slack against Bliss’s flesh. “It’s got to be that business about my tellin’ Dunnigan to take you.”