Carra’s determined dislike seemed to be giving way, at least briefly. She nodded, an expression resembling politeness visible in her eyes before she turned toward the stairway.

Bliss found the brandy Jamie had asked for toward the back of the house, in an austere-looking room that seemed to be a study. There were account books stacked on the neat surface of the desk and, on impulse, mostly because she’d never seen Jamie’s handwriting, she opened the cover of one.

Columns of neat and very impressive numbers filled the pages. Jamie’s penmanship was as practical-looking as the manner in which he’d furnished his house, and Bliss was smiling when the voice sounded unexpectedly and startled her.

“Thinking like your dear father, are you?” Jamie asked.

Bliss’s smile faded as she realized what the man was implying. He actually thought she was examining his books to see how she could profit by the marriage. “If you weren’t already beaten to a pulp,” she said stiffly, “I’d kick you in the shin.”

He ran a hand through his hair and then approached, taking the brandy bottle from Bliss in a peremptory grab. “Good night—Mrs. McKenna,” he said, and every word had the lethal sharpness of the knife he was rarely without. He’d turned his back and was leaving the room when Bliss stopped him quite effectively.

“You needn’t say good night to me yet,” she said, her tone deliberately coy. “There’ll be time for that when we’ve put out the lamp and snuggled down into our lovely warm bed.”

Jamie turned slowly to face her, the brandy bottle clutched tightly in his hand.

“That’s right,” Bliss said, responding cheerfully to his silence. “I mean to share your bed tonight. After all, Mr. McKenna, we are man and wife.”

Before he could reply, Bliss swept past him, leading the way along the hallway and up the stairs. A backward glance revealed that Jamie’s jaw was stubbornly set, but he was following.

Chapter 9

CARRA WAS PUTTING AN EXTRA QUILT ON THE BED, AND A BRIGHT fire already blazed in the hearth, when Jamie and Bliss walked into the room. The Maori girl’s beautiful dark eyes slashed from one to the other. Carra said nothing.

Bliss knew that if Carra was to be told of the marriage, however unconventional it was, Jamie should be the one to do the talking. With some difficulty, she pried the brandy bottle out of his hand and left the room.

The kitchen was warm and lighted by lamps, and there was a savory lamb stew simmering on the cookstove. The delicious scent made Bliss’s stomach grumble, and she hastened to find a pan for heating Jamie’s brandy. He could have his nip of the sauce if he wanted; for herself, Bliss wanted a bowlful of that stew.

She found a small kettle and poured half the brandy into it, setting it on the stove. Then, after locating a bowl and spoon, she served herself supper. Bliss hadn’t realized, until she began to eat, how ravenous she really was.