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Kendrick dipped his head to study her, then glanced up at the sign over their heads. “Is there a problem, Miss Haddon?”
His words barely penetrated the roaring in her head.
He rested a gentle hand on her shoulder. “Lass, tell me what’s wrong.”
“N . . . nothing.”
Kendrick made a frustrated sound. “I can’t help if you won’t tell me the truth.”
“It’s none of your business.” Then she mentally grimaced, irritated by her sharp reply. “Besides, there’s nothing to tell.”
His gaze narrowed. “Donella—”
“Sir, I don’t believe I gave you permission to make free with my name.” She swept past him and through the door.
Kendrick muttered something aboutdaft lassesand followed her inside.
The timbered-roof entrance hall contained a small desk, a chair, and a few wooden settles tucked into the corners. A long hall stretched toward the back of the inn, and a door on the right opened into a cozy taproom where an elderly gentleman dozed into his ale and a scrawny young fellow was behind the bar, polishing glasses.
A middle-aged woman garbed in a round gown and starched apron bustled out from the hall to greet them. She had salt-and-pepper hair topped by a neat mobcap, and looked a trifle harassed.
“Beggin’ yer pardon. I was roustin’ my husband to look after yer carriage and cattle,” she said. “It’s a pleasure to have ye under our roof, Miss Haddon. I can show ye to yer room now, if ye like.”
“Thank you, ma’am.” Donella stripped off her gloves. “And you are . . . ?”
“Mrs. Murray. The family has owned this inn for nigh on two hundred years. We’ve served many a traveller to these parts, and we pride ourselves on our hospitality. Ye’ll be havin’ a foine supper and a good night’s sleep tonight, Miss Haddon.”
The woman’s chattiness was both useful and horrifying. For a moment, Donella debated whether to ask Kendrick to pole up the horses and take to the road again.
The innkeeper peered at her with concern. “Are ye needin’ a cup of tea straightaway, miss? Or a wee dram to chase away the chill?”
“The cat appears to have seized possession of Miss Haddon’s tongue,” Kendrick said. “We’ve had a bit of a difficult journey.”
Donella shot Logan a warning glare before mustering a smile for the confused-looking Mrs. Murray. “I’m simply fatigued.”
“Then we’ll fix ye up with a nice wash and a spot of tea while yer waitin’ for supper. If ye’ll step up with me, Miss Haddon, I’ll show ye the room.”
Donella’s anxiety eased under the warmth of the woman’s kind manner. The Murrays were a large, diverse clan, with many branches. It was silly to think that these simple innkeepers would have knowledge of the troubles between Mungo Murray’s branch of the clan and the Haddon family.
“Do you have a private room where Miss Haddon can take her supper?” Logan asked before Donella could reply.
“Nae, sir, we’ve just the taproom. There’s one other gent stayin’ with us who’ll be havin’ his supper down there, but he won’t be botherin’ ye or the lady. He seems a quiet and polite sort of fellow.”
“I think it best—”
A balding little man in breeches and a leather jerkin darted through the front door, interrupting them. Eyes wide, he skidded to a halt in front of Donella. Wisps of sandy-colored hair stood straight up from his skull, as if they’d somehow taken fright.
“Mr. Murray, why are ye runnin’ in like a looney?” Mrs. Murray scolded. She gave Donella an apologetic smile. “This is my husband, miss. He’s forgotten his manners, I’m sorry to say.”
The innkeeper swiped a hand across his perspiring forehead and collected himself. “Yer Miss Haddon, I take it. I beg yer pardon.”
His wife regarded him with disbelief. “Ye cannae have forgotten that Mr. Kendrick would be returnin’ this way with the lady. He told ye that himself only two days ago.”
“Of . . . of course not,” he babbled. “I . . . I just was thinkin’ they were comin’ tomorrow night, is all.”
Kendrick frowned. “Is that a problem? I’d hate to have to pole up and try to find another inn if you cannot accommodate the horses.”
“We have plenty of room, sir,” Mrs. Murray assured him before rounding on her husband. “Were ye not just in the stables, seein’ to Mr. Kendrick’s carriage and team? Where have ye been if not doin’ that?”
