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“This entire expedition is ridiculous,” she groused. “You quite obviously do not want to go shopping with me. You simply wish to badger me, so you might as well get it over with.”
He adopted a long-suffering expression. “That is exactly what I’ve been trying to do.”
“Well, you don’t need to drag me off to a secluded park to do so. That, I might add, would not help my reputation.”
“Because it’s a rather delicate subject, I was hoping for some degree of privacy. But if you want to discuss it here in the middle of the bloody street, we certainly can.”
“Since I’m not sneaking off for a clandestine conversation, thatisyour only choice.”
His sideways glance held considerable frustration. “You can be an incredibly stubborn woman. Not to mention irritating.”
She barely refrained from sticking her tongue out at him.
And what would Sister Bernard have said about that?
The image of Sister’s horrified reaction had her choking down a laugh and made her wish even more she could give in to her silly impulse. She’d certainly come a long way from her convent days.
They walked in silence down the street.
“Why don’t we walk up to the church at the end of the street?” she asked, looking for a compromise. “It’s not busy up there, so we should be able to talk without half of Glasgow giving us the evil eye.”
He let out a sardonic snort. “I’d forgotten how small this town could feel. And how judgmental.”
“I’d forgotten that, too. The Kendricks do have a special knack for generating tittle-tattle. It seems to be a particular family talent.”
“Years of practice.” He steered her across the street to a quieter stretch of pavement. “That brings me to the point of this discussion. I owe you an apology, Donella. I was a complete buffoon last night, and I cannot tell you how much I regret it.”
Her heart slammed against her ribs. Whether it was from hope or dread, she couldn’t yet tell.
Don’t make a fool of yourself.
“Thank you,” she calmly replied. “You were simply greeting an old friend you hadn’t seen in a long time. Your surprise was understandable.”
“That doesn’t excuse my behavior. I all but abandoned you on the dance floor.”
“We weren’t dancing.”
“Donella—”
She flapped her muff at him to interrupt. “Very well, sir. You made your apology and I accepted it. There’s no need to discuss that business any further.”
He shot her that narrow-eyed glare again, one that always indicated immense irritation. “There is every need to mentionthat business,because there has been some sort of misunderstanding about Jeannie and . . . I mean about Mrs. MacArthur and me.”
Donella fixed her gaze on the tall steeple atop the church at the end of the street. “It’s truly none of my business.”
He gently pulled her to a halt and turned her to face him.
“It is your business,” he said in a terse voice.
She avoided meeting his eyes. “I don’t see why.”
“If you don’t see why, then you haven’t been paying attention. Mrs. MacArthur is an old friend. Nothing more.”
“But Victoria said—”
“I don’t care what Victoria said. What happened with Mrs. MacArthur is long in the past and will remain there. I give you my word.”
Rattled, she met his gaze. His irritation gave way to something much warmer, and that rattled her even more.
