“No, it was worse.”
Kendrick perked up. “Really?”
“Yes, really. It was utterly mortifying for everyone involved, especially me.”
Donella couldn’t help but enjoy her cousin’s well-earned discomfort just a wee bit. That incident, although providing the necessary excuse to break their engagement, had nevertheless been intensely humiliating. And now she was in yet another situation where an unwilling man was being pressured into marrying her.
With the exception of Roddy Murray, it would appear that unwilling men were the only sorts of suitors she could ever expect to find.
“Well, aren’t you the hypocrite?” Kendrick sardonically said to Alasdair.
Her cousin glared at him. “Donella knows how sorry I am about everything. But she didn’t want to marry me, either.”
“That is exactly the point,” she said. “I don’t wish to marry Mr. Kendrick any more than I did you. And at least if I’d married you, I would have been Countess of Riddick one day.”
“I’m not exactly a pauper or a muckworm,” Kendrick protested. “There are plenty of girls who’d be thrilled to marry me.”
“Excellent. Then by all means ask one of them.”
He stalked over, looking intimidating despite his wrinkled clothing, two-day beard, and stocking feet. “You needn’t make it sound like I’m the worst thing that could happen to you, Donella. I’m not an ogre.”
“No, you’re simply another pigheaded man who cannot hear what I’m saying.”
When Alasdair chuckled, she shot him a dark look. “You’re even worse.”
“Now, hang on—”
“Please just be quiet, the both of you!” Kendrick snapped. “For just one bloody minute.”
Donella had no desire to hold her tongue and was about to snap back at him when she looked into Kendrick’s suddenly weary, frustrated features. Then she remembered all they’d been through the last few days and the many risks he’d taken to keep her safe.
When Alasdair opened his mouth to argue, Donella elbowed him. “Let Mr. Kendrick talk.”
Kendrick took her hand, twining her fingers with his. “Lass, you know everyone will think I dishonored you, regardless of the truth. I cannot allow you to be hurt, which means we must face some hard truths.”
His change in manner made her throat go tight. She shook her head.
“Come, my dear. We need to be sensible about this.” She had to clear her throat before answering. “Mr. Kendrick, if you had a true choice, free and clear, would you wish to marry me?”
He hesitated a moment too long before flashing a rueful smile. “I wasn’t planning on marrying anyone, but I can think of much worse things. You’re a splendid, brave lass, Donella.”
“And too good for the likes of you,” Alasdair said.
“Says the man who ran away to avoid marrying me,” Donella retorted.
It was a churlish comment, but understandable given that she was struggling with an unexpected sense of disappointment at Kendrick’s less than enthusiastic reply. What in God’s name was wrong with her?
Alasdair winced. “Sorry, lass. I—”
“It doesn’t matter,” she interrupted. “I’m going to be joining another convent as soon as I can, anyway. So the issue is moot.”
Her comment stunned the men into silence. It rather stunned her too, since she hadn’t thought that far ahead, at least not so definitively.
“But you just got kicked out of the convent,” Alasdair blurted out. “How can you go back?”
“I did not get kicked out,” she said through clenched teeth. “And there are other orders besides the Carmelites.”
“Clerical orders aren’t like haberdashers,” her cousin said. “You just can’t shop around until you find one that suits you.”
Kendrick sighed. “So now I’m pushing you back into the convent to avoid scandal. Splendid.”
She laid a hand on his arm. “You’ve done nothing but protect me and care for me. And we both know that nothing happened.”
Nothing, that is, other than that she’d finally found a man—a friend—who seemed to understand her. The real her.
When their gazes locked, she saw genuine warmth and regret in his eyes. At the fleeting sense of what might have been, her heart twisted into a knot.
“Aye, we do,” he finally said.
She turned to her cousin. “You owe me, Alasdair. As a man who was caught in a truly scandalous position, you know exactly why it was scandalous. And as the woman who caught you in that position, I also know that what happened in this cottage is entirely different. Mr. Kendrick did not compromise me in any way.”
Alasdair blew out an exasperated breath. “Dammit, you could always run rings around me. Very well, I’ll do what I can to contain any blowback. And I’ll explain the situation to my men.”
Relief made her laugh a bit shaky. “You mean you’ll threaten to knock their heads together if they say anything.”
“Exactly. And I won’t tell Fergus or anyone else in the family. But you’ll have to explain it to Grandfather.”
She nodded. “I’ll take care of Uncle Riddick.”
He studied her for a few moments, then flashed a grin and swept her into a huge embrace. “Since I’ve not had the chance to say it, welcome home, lass. It’s grand to see you.”
She hugged him back, surprised by the upwelling of her emotions. She and Alasdair had never been very close, but she realized now how much she’d missed him. How much she’d missed all her family.
“Thank you, dearest. I cannot tell you how ready I am to get home and out of these dreary clothes.”
“I think we’d best try to sneak you in before Grandfather gets a look, or he’ll pitch a fit. Of course, he’s pitching a fit anyway over this business with the Murrays. Any idea what it’s about? He went as tight as an oyster when I asked him, and Fergus wasn’t much better.”
“Just stupid clan business from years ago that the Murrays clearly have not forgotten,” Donella said. “I have no idea how they heard I was leaving the convent, or why they would even care.”
She hated lying, even when it was necessary. She’d make it up with some extra prayers.
“Stupid clan feuds,” Alasdair said, disgusted.
“Aye, they are,” Kendrick agreed. “Now we’d best get Donella back to Blairgal, then sort it out. I take it we’ll be riding? Your cousin is in no condition to walk.”
“My foot is rather a mess,” Donella said at her cousin’s concerned look.
“We have one extra mount,” Alasdair replied. “Donella will ride with me.”
Kendrick shook his head. “Better she ride with me. You take the lead, so you and your men can keep us out of trouble.”
Alec glanced at Donella, who nodded her approval.
“All right,” her cousin said, “let’s be off.”
Logan was already pulling on his boots. “Let’s step outside and give the lass a minute of privacy. And I want to fill you in on exactly what happened.”
When the door shut, Donella hurried through her ablutions and then stacked the dishes neatly in the pantry, wishing she’d had the time to wash them. Still, she was tidying up as best she could when Logan and Alasdair came back in.
“Leave it, Donella,” Alasdair said. “I’ll send someone to clean up.”
She sat down to pull on her boots. Unfortunately, even carefully inserting her injured foot inside sparked a nasty jolt of pain.
“Och, that’s not going to work,” Kendrick said.
He retrieved a pair of socks from his pack.
“I still have to wear my boots to walk,” she said, pulling on the socks over the ones she already wore.
“You won’t be walking.”
Kendrick helped her up from the bench and then hoisted her into his arms.
“Is this really necessary?” she asked, embarrassed.
“The less you walk, the better.”
“This is silly—”
“Stow it, D
onella. I’m not letting you damage that foot any more than you already have.”
“Oh, very well,” she grumbled, sliding her arms around his neck. “By now, I suppose I should be used to you ordering me about.”
“You certainly should.”
Then he glanced at Alasdair, who was watching them with an enigmatic expression.
“Well?” Kendrick said. “Are we ready?”
Alasdair stepped aside and swept a flourishing bow. “After you, Sir Galahad.”
“Bugger you,” Logan retorted as he stalked out.
“Language, Mr. Kendrick,” Donella couldn’t help saying.
His only reply was a sardonic snort as he carried her out to the horses.
Chapter Twelve
Logan had thought about stopping by his offices before returning to Kendrick House, but after three days with no shaving and little access to water he looked more like a brigand than a businessman. And if he smelled as bad as he looked, his employees wouldn’t thank him for popping in to check on things.
As he turned his horse onto Queen Street, he spotted the wife of one of his bankers. He automatically moved to doff his hat, before realizing that he’d lost it somewhere. Instead, he offered the lady a smile and a friendly nod. She looked initially stunned and then horrified. He couldn’t entirely blame her. How was she to know he’d spent the last three days protecting an innocent maiden from nefarious kidnappers, then deflecting a murder threat from the maiden’s idiot cousin for the non-existent impugning of her virtue?
Well, almost non-existent impugning. There was no doubt he and Donella had crossed a line, however inadvertently. Waking up with her supple, enticing body snuggled up against his erection had not been part of the plan. If not for Donella’s quick thinking—and even quicker temper, matched only by her stubbornness—Logan had little doubt he’d be asking Lord Riddick for her hand in marriage.
Or facing death from any male relative of Donella Haddon.
Oddly, he’d been more than a bit annoyed by her refusal to even consider the notion. For an entirely deranged moment, the idea of marrying Donella hadn’t seemed awful. In fact, it had seemed rather interesting, which only proved he was in dire need of a good night’s sleep.
Still, when they’d finally parted at the border of Riddick lands, where a carriage awaited them, Logan was reluctant to let her go. Donella had seemed to share that feeling, unexpectedly throwing herself into his arms and giving him a fierce hug.
“Thank you, Logan Kendrick,” she’d whispered in his ear. “I’ll never forget you.”
Instinctively, he’d hugged her back, her short, silky hair brushing against his cheek.
Donella had then gently kissed Logan’s cheek before hastily climbing into the waiting carriage. He’d been rather stunned by that kiss and had felt color rise to his cheeks.
Alec, naturally, had snorted out a sardonic laugh but then had sincerely thanked Logan. “We owe you a great deal, old man. You have our gratitude.”
Logan wanted not gratitude but a business deal with Lord Riddick. That discussion, however, had nothing to do with Donella and was for another day.
He’d watched as the carriage and its armed guard swiftly departed, carrying Donella safely away. It left him oddly bereft. He would miss the lass and wished he could somehow see her again.
Then he’d remembered that he was done with women. Marguerite had been the love of his life, and she’d given him a beautiful son. It was more than he deserved.
Logan guided his horse past George Square and into the more residential parts of the city. Dusk fell rapidly, as it did this time of year, and lights glowed in the windows of the houses that lined the quiet streets. Within a few minutes, he was turning into an elegant garden square, fronted by mansions built by the wealthy Tobacco Lords of the last century.
Kendrick House, the largest on the square, was lit from top to bottom. With almost the entire family in residence, he doubted he could sneak in. The Countess of Arnprior would take one look at him and command him upstairs to take a bath, as if he were a naughty boy who’d fallen into a puddle. Victoria was a bit of a stickler, who ran the Kendrick household with a firm hand. She was also kind, funny, and brilliant, and the woman Nick had needed in his life.
Victoria had been what they’d all needed. She’d healed the fractured bonds of their family and forced Logan and Nick to confront and forgive the mistakes and tragedies of the past.
Dismounting, he tied the horse to the hitching post and climbed the steps to the portico. Before he could knock, the door opened and young Will, one of the footmen, greeted him with a look of concern.
“Are ye all right, sir?” Will eyed Logan’s disreputable appearance. “We were expecting ye home over a day ago.”
“I encountered some unexpected business on the road. Can you have one of the stable lads look after this fellow, Will? He’s had a long day.”
“Aye, sir.”
When Logan stepped inside, he frowned at the chaos. Boxes and various pieces of luggage were piled in the middle of the hall floor, while two footmen struggled to wrestle a huge trunk up the stairs. Henderson, the butler, was conferring with the head chambermaid. And the blasted dogs were barking their fool heads off in the drawing room.
Henderson glanced at him, delivered a quick set of instructions to the maid, then hurried over.
“I apologize for the commotion, sir,” he said as he took Logan’s coat. “It’s all been very sudden.”
“What’s going on, Henderson? Has the Prince Regent himself arrived for a visit?” Since Prinny was Victoria’s natural father, it was an inside joke with the family and senior staff.
“No, sir.” A rare grin split the butler’s spare features. “It’s Mr. Mac—”
The door to the drawing room opened and out tumbled two of the family’s pack of exceedingly silly Skye Terriers. The man who followed in their wake froze Logan in his tracks.
Angus MacDonald, his grandfather, came barreling across the hall. Since the old fellow was supposed to be in Canada, his appearance was a stunner.
“Laddie, we’ve been waitin’ for ye.” Angus threw his skinny arms around Logan and hugged him. Since he barely came up to Logan’s shoulder, he landed somewhere around the midsection.
“It’s grand to see ye,” Angus choked out.
Logan returned the embrace. “It’s wonderful to see you too, Grandda. And surprising.”
He had to raise his voice. The dogs, tumbling around their feet like gigantic dust balls, yapped their heads off.
Technically, Angus was Logan and Nick’s stepgrandfather, since his daughter had been the old earl’s second wife. But Angus loved all the Kendrick brothers with equal devotion. No grandfather could be more loyal—or more old-fashioned and pigheaded. Despite his stubborn ways, he had a kind and loving heart and would do anything for his family.
Anything included committing murder to save the life of Royal, Logan’s younger half brother. That was why they’d shipped the old fellow off to Halifax. Royal and his wife, Ainsley, had been forced to flee as well after Ainsley shot the man who was going to kidnap her wee little daughter. Only recently had most of the legal complexities arising out of that unfortunate incident been resolved, lifting the cloud of prosecution from over their heads.
No one had expected the newly established Halifax branch of the family to return to Scotland anytime soon, since they’d all seemed happily settled in their new lives.
Angus stepped back. “Ye’re lookin’ as queer as Dick’s hatband, lad, and ye’re not smellin’ the best, either. What have ye been up to?”
Since the old man normally knocked about wearing an old kilt and worn-out leather vest, his criticism was a bit comical. With his grizzled hair, shabby tam, and grubby clay pipe, Angus often resembled a caricature of an antique Highlander. Today, though, he was as neat as a pin in breeches and tailcoat, with boots that were presentable, at least for him.
“Just a little trouble on the road.” Logan paused a mome
nt. “Grandda, don’t take this the wrong way, but why are you here?”
The old man looked hesitant. “Well, ye see . . .”
“Ah, Logan. There you are.” Logan’s sister-in-law hurried out of the drawing room. Victoria gave him a quick once-over, frowning. “Do I even want to know?”
“Probably not. Now, perhaps you’ll tell me what’s going on?”
She and Angus exchanged a glance. “You didn’t tell him?”
“Didna have the chance.”
Not another crisis. Logan hoped he would have time to splash water on his face and change his clothes before he had to start bashing heads together or breaking someone out of jail.
“Can someone please tell me what’s going on?”
Victoria smiled. “Nothing awful, dear. It’s just a surprise.”
“I love surprises,” he growled, “so bloody well tell me.”
“Well, ye see,” said Angus, “I’ve brought home—”
“Hello, Papa.”
The little voice caused Logan to spin on his boot heels to face the drawing room. His head spun too, because there stood Joseph. The boy’s hands were folded neatly across his stomach as he regarded Logan with a wary gaze, as if unsure of his reception.
“I brought yer son home,” Angus proudly said.
Logan fought to marshal his overwhelmed thoughts. He hadn’t seen Joseph in over a year but had planned on sailing to Canada in March for an extended stay. To now have his son standing in the hall of Kendrick House, right before him . . .
“I told you it was a surprise,” Victoria said with a twinkle.
Angus poked him on the arm. “Say hello to yer boy, ye jinglebrains.”
Logan lunged across the hall, sweeping his child into his arms. He hugged him close, his heart pounding like a blacksmith’s hammer. Joseph was the first thought in his head in the morning and the last at night. His absence was a wound that never fully healed, closing over when the boy was with him and ripping open when he said good-bye.
Joseph had been safe in Halifax with his grandparents and Royal and Ainsley. The thought of his son taking that six-week sea voyage, even on a Kendrick ship, made Logan queasy. The boy was the dearest thing in the world to him, and if anything had happened . . .
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