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“Can we please have this silly argument later. I’m freezing and just want to get inside.”
His fingers briefly flexed on her arm, a clear sign he was struggling to hold on to his patience. She couldn’t blame him. What had originally been a promise to a friend and only a moderate inconvenience had turned into a monumental disaster.
“You’re right, of course. I apologize.”
She sighed. “No, I should apologize. You’ve done nothing but protect me since this ridiculous business began. And I’ve been repaying your kindness by acting like a shrew.”
“Lass, you apologize too much. What you’ve been through these last few days would try the patience of a saint.”
He guided her to a rustic wooden bench by the front door. Donella almost groaned with relief as she sank down on the hard seat.
“Sister Bernard would assure you that I am far from being a saint,” she said.
“Ah, the dreaded Mistress of Novices. I’ll have to have a chat with the good sister, if I ever encounter her. She obviously doesn’t know your true mettle.” He rummaged behind a large, empty tub off to the side.
“She’d only lecture you to the point of boredom.”
Kendrick straightened up. “Got it.” He inserted a large key into the old-fashioned lock and opened the door.
Donella steeled herself to get up. She was beginning to think she would topple onto her face if she had to take another step.
Perhaps life in the convent had weakened her, not toughened her up as she’d thought. She’d joined to become a stronger, better version of herself, but she’d failed both herself and the sisters. She’d failed her family too, after they’d done so much to help her achieve what she’d thought was her dream. That sense of failure was overwhelming.
“Are you all right, Miss Haddon?” Kendrick quietly asked.
“Oh, yes. Just tired.”
She began to stand but abruptly sat back down when her head started to swim. Staring down at her lap, she sternly told herself not to faint.
Kendrick hunkered down before her. “You’re not going to keel over, are you?”
“Not if I can help it,” she gritted out.
A blast of cold air whipped around the side of the cottage. She welcomed the bracing sensation against her clammy skin.
Kendrick tipped up her chin. “You’re white as milk.”
“Nonsense. It’s too dark to tell.” Now that her head had stopped swimming, she felt embarrassed by her momentary weakness.
“That’s exactly how I can tell. You look like a ghost in the dark.”
He stripped off a glove and pressed a hand first to her forehead and then to her cheek. His palm was rough and warm, and she had a ridiculous impulse to snuggle closer to him.
“You’re sweating,” he said.
“How kind of you to point that out,” she replied, embarrassed.
“You best not be falling ill, lass,” he gently chided. “Your uncle will murder me if anything happens to you.”
“I am not falling ill. And if you’re worried about my uncle, I can write a last will and testament relieving you of any responsibility.”
“Here’s a better idea. Let’s try to avoid that outcome.”
Before she could reply, he hauled Donella up and swept her into his arms. He did it so quickly and easily that she barely had time to gape at him before he nudged open the door and carried her inside.
“Mr. . . . Mr. Kendrick,” she sputtered. “Put me down this instant.”
“If I did, you’d fall flat on your face and probably knock yourself out. And then your uncle would have my head, if your brother and your cousin didn’t have it first. I can handle two of them, but not all three at once.”
