Page 28 of The Highlander's Christmas Bride

“Touched in the head, I reckon,” Hamish muttered as he departed the room.

She mentally flinched. The old fellow’s comment was much too close to home.

Kendrick, pulling off his greatcoat, paused to study her. “What’s amiss, lass?”

Donella decided she truly did want to break Logan Kendrick’s skull.

No wonder they kicked you out of the convent, with that temper of yours.

“What’s amiss? I spent the last three hours clinging to the back end of a horse, someone is trying to abduct me, I’m in a smelly disguise, and you have just convinced a perfect stranger that I’m mentally defective. If anyone ever finds out about all this, I will be completely humiliated.”

Kendrick tossed his coat onto the worn leather club chair in front of the hearth.

“If anyone finds out about this little escapade, embarrassment will be the least of your problems.” Then he grinned. “Although even you must admit there are some rather hilarious elements to our situation.”

“Really? Because no one is threatening to paddle you.”

“Very true. Although the suggestion does have a certain appeal.”

For a moment, her mind went blank. Then she took a hasty step back. “If you come near me, I will make you sorrier than you’ve ever been.”

He blinked, startled by her reaction. “It was only a joke, lass. A bad one, obviously, and I beg your pardon.”

She eyed him, unsure how to respond to his rapid change in demeanor.

“Miss Haddon, I would never harm you,” he quietly said. “Never. And I am clearly a moron if I gave you that impression. In fact, my oldest brother reminds me on a regular basis that I am indeed a moron. I have a lamentable tendency to joke at the most inappropriate moments. Please forgive me.”

Regret softened the hard angles of his masculine features. Donella tried to find the words to respond, but they tangled up on her tongue. She’d always been a disaster when it came to managing men—probably because she didn’t understand them—and it would seem she was holding true to form.

Kendrick spread his hands wide. “Lass, yer killin’ me over here.”

It was the exaggerated brogue that did it. She had to smile.

“Of course I forgive you, sir. And I apologize if I overreacted.”

“You’ll not be apologizing to me. I had no business teasing you, especially after the day you’ve had. What you need is some sleep.”

Donella cast a furtive glance at the bed.

Kendrick sighed. “I would truly love to be able to give you some privacy, but it would raise too many questions and not be safe.”

“I know. I’m being silly.”

“Not at all. But you will sleep on the bed, and I will take this tattered excuse for a blanket and sleep on the floor.”

Now she began to feel guilty. “That’s not very fair. After all, you’re doing all the hard work.”

“Och, I’ve slept in rougher conditions.”

“I lived in a convent, remember? I slept in a small, cold room on a narrow cot. We were called to prayer during the night and then again at dawn.”

“That sounds rather gruesome.”

Suddenly, and in a great wave of loneliness, she missed the safety and peace of her old life so fiercely she almost burst into tears.

She plopped down on his coat in the creaky leather chair, finally overcome with the trials of the day. “I know,” she whispered. “But it was my home.”

He approached her as one would a skittish foal. Hunkering down, he took her hands and began chafing warmth back into them. Until he touched her, Donella hadn’t realized how cold she was.

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