“What was that all about?” she demanded when she and Jamie were both settled in the wagon seat and the rig was moving toward the main road. Bliss had already noted, with mingled uneasiness and relief, that there was a rifle lying on the floorboard, within easy reach.

Jamie shrugged, his jaw set in a stubborn line that brought out the same obstinacy in Bliss. “I’ve told you all you need to know about Cutter,” he said, after long moments of silence had passed.

Bliss folded her arms across her chest. “I’ll tell you what I think, Jamie McKenna—”

“Oh, I’m sure you will,” Jamie interrupted.

Bliss had been holding her breath, and a stream of words rushed out when she released it. “I think you didn’t want him to tell me any more about this Peony person, whoever she is.”

Jamie’s ice-blue eyes chilled Bliss more deeply than the cold ever could have when he looked at her. “You’re wrong there, Duchess,” he said tightly. “Peony is the best friend I ’ave in all the world. She’s closer to me than Cutter or even Reeve. Without ’er, I’d ’ave nothin’, for ’twas Peony that staked me to a new start.”

Bliss swallowed hard, so hurt by the tone and meaning of Jamie’s words that she didn’t trust herself to speak. She averted her eyes, and when she dared to look at him again, he spoke gruffly.

“That’s the way of it, Duchess.”

The brusque words were of no comfort to Bliss. She knew that she had been wrong. After all, she really had no right to question Jamie about his personal business. Her voice came out sounding strangled and hoarse. “Do you think we’ll be safe on the road?” she asked.

“Safe as ever,” he replied, shifting uncomfortably on the seat. It was obvious that Jamie was in severe pain, though he was doing his utmost to hide the fact, and Bliss wondered what had made him so anxious to leave the safety of Cutter’s cottage.

She had no more than completed this thought when the answer occurred to her: Jamie was eager to get to Auckland and rid himself of one unwanted wife.

“You look like your best friend just died,” Jamie commented, his voice so low that Bliss could barely hear it over the clatter of the horses hooves on the hard-frozen road. “Tell me what’s troublin’ you, Duchess.”

Bliss’s temper, always a dependable defense against emotional pain, flared to life. “Why should I, Jamie McKenna?” she fired back at him. “You won’t tell me any of the things that I want to know about you!”

Jamie’s gaze was level, and once again Bliss thought she saw a glimmer of amusement deep in his eyes. “Fair enough,” he said solemnly.

But Bliss hardly heard him. Spreading her hands, she cried, “I know you’re angry because my father made you marry me, but I notice you didn’t fight! You must be tough, or those men who kidnapped me wouldn’t have run off just because I mentioned your name, so I’m sure you could have handled my father. And Alexander—well, Alexander would have been no trouble at all—I think I could have trounced him myself!” She paused to draw a deep breath, then rushed on. “As for those rounders on the road yesterday, well, you wouldn’t have had any difficulty with them, either, I’ll wager, if you hadn’t left your knife with me!”