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When she rolled her eyes, he could only deduce that he was losing his touch.
“I’m not exactly suffering the trials of Job,” she retorted. “It’s simply a blister. I will be fine.”
She marched on, defiantly limping up the trail. Short of holding her down and wrestling her boot off, there was nothing he could do until they reached the cottage.
“Very well. It’s your bloody foot.”
“That it is,” she responded, not looking back. “Now, get a move on, Mr. Kendrick. Night will be upon us soon enough.”
She was full of grit, that one. Again, she reminded him of his wife. Deceptively fragile looking, Marguerite had embodied the resilience and strength of her people. And like Marguerite, Donella had the blood of warriors running through her veins.
Tragically, Marguerite’s strength had been no match for the illness that had ruthlessly drained the life from her body. Foreigners like Logan had brought that disease to the colonies. In the end, it had killed the woman he’d loved, who’d given him life and hope after all the disasters that had befallen him and his family.
“Keep up, Mr. Kendrick.”
The tart, feminine voice floated back, prodding him to move. Shaking his head, he followed in her limping, determined footsteps.
Chapter Nine
As darkness chased them up the mountain, Donella worried they’d missed their chance to reach the crofter’s cottage, thanks to her. The blister on her foot had transformed into a burning brand, scorching its way down to the bone and slowing her limping gait to a crawl. If they didn’t reach that blasted cottage soon, she had every intention of lying down in the middle of the path and quietly expiring.
At this point, she might have preferred to be kidnapped by the Murrays. At least her potential abductors would have probably fed her and let her sit down, instead of dragging her up a stupid mountain in the middle of the night.
When she walked into something big and rocklike, she bounced back hard enough to lose her balance. Fortunately, the boulderlike object snaked a hand around her waist before she tumbled to the dirt in an inelegant heap.
“Watch it, lass. Don’t want you taking a fall,” Kendrick said.
He had a talent for stating the obvious.
Donella shoved her cap out of her eyes and glared up at him. “Why did you stop without warning? It’s a miracle you didn’t knock me down the side of the mountain.”
“Not to be overly precise, but I juststoppedyou from tumbling down the mountain. Besides, it’s not much of a mountain. More like a big hill.”
“That is hardly the point.”
“No, the point is that I told you that we were stopping, but you didn’t hear me.”
“You did?”
“Twice.”
She winced. “Sorry. I suppose I was, um, thinking.”
He smiled, his teeth a brief flash of white in the gloom. “Don’t fash yourself. It’s been a long day and a hard climb.”
“Are we stopping to rest again?”
“No, we’re stopping because we’re finally here.” He jerked his head. “There’s the cottage.”
It was now so dark she might have walked right past the small structure, tucked away as it was under a gloomy stand of pine trees.
“It doesn’t look like anyone’s home.”
“Not to worry. I know where the key is.” He steered her toward the front door. “Once I get a fire lit, we can get your boots off and assess the damage.”
“It’s just a blister,” she automatically replied.
“Yes, and as I told you—”
