Page 33 of The Highlander's Christmas Bride

“I hate adventures,” she muttered.

He slipped out into the hall. For a woman who hated adventures, she’d done well, displaying both strength and character. Most girls of her class would have succumbed to hysterics long ago. And though she had a tendency to argue, she’d followed his orders when it counted.

Logan had the impression from her family that Donella was a biddable, even shy woman who retreated into the background. Yet he’d found her quite the opposite, which probably accounted for her dismissal from the nunnery. Donella might not be the sort of girl to flirt or talk the ears off a man, but biddable or shy? Not a chance.

He’d only known her for a few days, but there seemed to be more to Donella than her family realized.

The inn was stirring. Dishes clattered in the taproom and footsteps thumped on the floor above. The entrance hall was empty, but that meant Hamish was likely still out gabbing with the mysterious riders. If those men had a particle of brains, they would soon deduce that something was off about Mr. MacDonald and his strange little brother.

Logan risked a careful look out the window. A stable boy washed down the cobblestones, but otherwise the yard appeared deserted. But that did them no good since they needed to head up into the hills, not back on the road.

Retreating, he paused to leave some coin on the desk, then quickly made his way back down the hall to the door at the end of the wing. He’d just cracked it open when he heard a shout from the direction of the stables. Feet pounded across the cobblestones, followed by more shouting and a call to search the inn.

Dammit to hell.

Under normal circumstances, he’d have no qualms about confronting the blighters but wouldn’t take any chances with Donella’s safety. He had to get her out of harm’s way as quickly as possible.

Moments later, he was back in the room. Donella was fully dressed and folding up a small bundle into a makeshift sack.

“I thought we might be able to use the blanket and extra candles,” she explained.

“Good thinking.” He shot the bolt across the door.

“I see it’s the window.”

“Aye.”

Donella followed him to the window. Logan slung his kit over his shoulder and yanked back the shutter, then pushed the latticed window open.

“I hope you made use of the chamber pot,” he said as he hoisted her onto the sill.

She swung her legs over. “If you mention that one more time, I will clobber you.”

The drop to the ground was a little high for his liking. “Careful, now. We don’t want you—”

Donella kicked off the sill, landing in a neat crouch before looking up at him. “You were saying, sir?”

He snorted and dropped his kit and her bundle to the ground. When he started to climb through the opening, he discovered it wasquitea tight fight.

“Don’t get stuck,” she warned.

As if he’d let that happen.

Logan pulled back and stripped off his greatcoat, tossing it down to her. Then he grabbed the top of the window frame and pulled himself up, then swung through in one go. He managed to tear a sleeve on the way down, but otherwise was unscathed.

Donella blinked at him. “That was quite impressive.”

“I might say the same about you, lass.”

Her smile was shy. “Thank you. I was rather athletic as a young girl.” The smile faded. “For a while, anyway.”

There was a story there, and he found himself wanting to hear it. For now, he had other things to worry about, like getting their arses out of harm’s way.

He shrugged back into his greatcoat. “Athletic is good right now.”

Donella had already slung her bundle over her shoulder, so he grabbed his kit and guided her toward a farmer’s field behind the inn. They dodged through a kitchen garden, having to crouch at one point below a low hedge when they heard some more shouting, but they were able to skulk away without incident.

A few hedgerows and a field of oats later, they were safely away. Repeated glances over his shoulder told Logan that no one had yet thought to check behind the inn.

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