He looked at Logan and shrugged.
His brother grimaced. “Och, never mind. You never forgive anyone who hurts you, no matter how much he needs it. You couldn’t even forgive Janet, your own damn wife. Well, I won’t be like her. I won’t break myself against your stupid stone heart.”
Nick found himself going for Logan, but Victoria threw herself in his way. When she slipped on a patch of ice, he grabbed her and yanked her against his chest.
“Stop this nonsense.” She glared up at him. “We’re on the edge of a blastedcliff.”
Logan, who’d pulled back a fist, muttered a disgusted curse and stepped away.
Nick carefully set Victoria back on her feet. “Sorry, but he can never shut his damn mouth.”
“Oh, you shut up,” his brother growled.
“Youbothshut up,” Victoria said, “or I swear I will push you over the edge. I have had more than enough of the Kendrick family to last a lifetime. You are the most insanely stubborn group of men I have ever met. I am heartily sick of the lot of you.”
“Tell us how you really feel, Miss Knight,” Logan said in a lame attempt at a jest.
“You don’t wish to hear it. All I care about at the moment is getting to Kinglas and making sure those poor girls have not been traumatized by your imbecilic brothers.”
Logan sighed. “What did the lads do now?”
“Royal and the twins kidnapped three young ladies and took them to Kinglas,” she said.
Logan looked at Nick, dumbfounded. “Is that true?”
“We’re not sure yet what happened,” Nick replied. “But the sooner you stop pestering us with questions, the sooner we’ll find out.”
“Don’t snap my head off. I didn’t kidnap anybody.”
“If you two want to kill each other, go right ahead,” Victoria said. “Just get out of my way so I can get down this blasted hill.”
“Fine,” Logan said. “I’ll go first. I know the trail better than Nick.”
“Of course you do,” Nick sarcastically replied.
Victoria shot him a dirty look. He couldn’t blame her, since he had to admit that he and Logan were acting like boys in a schoolyard brawl.
Fortunately, the path down was in better shape than he’d anticipated. With Logan’s terse but capable guidance, they tromped up to the back of Tommy’s cottage a short time later.
While Nick hated to admit it, without Logan’s help, he might have died. Worse yet, Victoria might have died.
Old Tommy, a grizzled widower who looked a bit like one of the shaggy Highland cattle he herded, waited for them in the doorway of the cottage.
“I was aboot to come lookin’ for ye,” he said, waving them in.
The three-room cottage was cozy and dry, with an expertly stacked peat fire sending out waves of blessed warmth. Nick steered Victoria across the stone floor and plunked her down into an old wooden armchair. He propped her feet up on the firedogs, then folded back her damp skirts to expose her legs to the heat.
She swatted at his hands. “Stop fussing.”
“You’re shivering,” he said.
“I am not,” she said through her chattering teeth. Her worried gaze tracked over him. “You’re in terrible shape, sir. You look dreadful.”
Her grumpy concern warmed him more than any fire could. “I’m fine. Tommy, could you get Miss Knight a—thank you.” He took the cup of whisky the old man was already shoving in his hand.
“Drink it,” Nick ordered, handing it to her.
“We don’t have time to waste on this.” Still, she took a gulp and then coughed, her eyes watering.
