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“No, but I think you are.”
When he extended the flask, she shook her head. “I never drink spirits.”
“You might want to take it up, since I’m going to start cleaning your foot by pouring some of this over the blisters.”
She stared up at him, so tall and tough looking, but with an easy smile softening the lines of his chiseled jaw. The smile didn’t fool her one bit.
He jiggled the flask, clearly determined that she drink.
Grimly, Donella took it and brought it to her lips.
“Careful, now,” he warned. “Just a sip to start.”
She ignored him, taking a generous swallow. It rocketed down her gullet like liquid fire.
“Good Christ,” he exclaimed, yanking the flask away. “Donella, are you trying to kill yourself?”
She coughed, wiping her streaming eyes. “Best to get it over with,” she wheezed.
“You’re daft.”
“You wouldn’t be the first to say that,” she muttered.
He shook his head again as he fetched the steaming water and returned to take a seat on the bench. He shifted sideways to face her and reached for her ankle.
“Could I have some more whisky?”
He studied her. “Are you sure?”
“Might as well make it as painless as possible.”
Now that the burn in her throat had subsided, she longed for more of the whisky’s heat. She’d been cold for so long that she’d almost forgotten what it felt like to be warm again.
Kendrick handed over the flask. “Try not to get cup-shot. I don’t want you passing out on me.”
She’d only been tipsy once in her life, and the results had been disastrous. But she was a mature woman now, and the current circumstances were decidedly unromantic.
After a cautious sip, Donella took a generous mouthful before handing back the flask.
“I’m ready,” she said, trying for a stout demeanor.
Kendrick gently grasped her ankle and propped her foot on a piece of toweling he’d draped over his muscled thigh. He then soaked a piece of flannel with whisky.
Already feeling a bit woozy from the strong spirits, Donella clasped the edge of her chair to brace herself.
“Feel free to yell,” he said.
“I will do no such thing,” she retorted, only slightly slurring her words.
When he pressed the cloth to her foot, she was sorry that she did, indeed, let out a very loud yell.
Chapter Ten
For all her delicacy, Donella Haddon had a shriek as loud as three cats brawling in the night.
“Sorry. I know it hurts like the devil.” Logan winced in sympathy as he kept the cloth pressed to her lacerated foot.
“I didn’t expect it to hurt so much,” she gasped.
