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Alec glanced at Donella, who nodded her approval.
“All right,” her cousin said, “let’s be off.”
Logan was already pulling on his boots. “Let’s step outside and give the lass a minute of privacy. And I want to fill you in on exactly what happened.”
When the door shut, Donella hurried through her ablutions and then stacked the dishes neatly in the pantry, wishing she’d had the time to wash them. Still, she was tidying up as best she could when Logan and Alasdair came back in.
“Leave it, Donella,” Alasdair said. “I’ll send someone to clean up.”
She sat down to pull on her boots. Unfortunately, even carefully inserting her injured foot inside sparked a nasty jolt of pain.
“Och, that’s not going to work,” Kendrick said.
He retrieved a pair of socks from his pack.
“I still have to wear my boots to walk,” she said, pulling on the socks over the ones she already wore.
“You won’t be walking.”
Kendrick helped her up from the bench and then hoisted her into his arms.
“Is this really necessary?” she asked, embarrassed.
“The less you walk, the better.”
“This is silly—”
“Stow it, Donella. I’m not letting you damage that foot any more than you already have.”
“Oh, very well,” she grumbled, sliding her arms around his neck. “By now, I suppose I should be used to you ordering me about.”
“You certainly should.”
Then he glanced at Alasdair, who was watching them with an enigmatic expression.
“Well?” Kendrick said. “Are we ready?”
Alasdair stepped aside and swept a flourishing bow. “After you, Sir Galahad.”
“Bugger you,” Logan retorted as he stalked out.
“Language, Mr. Kendrick,” Donella couldn’t help saying.
His only reply was a sardonic snort as he carried her out to the horses.
Chapter Twelve
Logan had thought about stopping by his offices before returning to Kendrick House, but after three days with no shaving and little access to water he looked more like a brigand than a businessman. And if he smelled as bad as he looked, his employees wouldn’t thank him for popping in to check on things.
As he turned his horse onto Queen Street, he spotted the wife of one of his bankers. He automatically moved to doff his hat, before realizing that he’d lost it somewhere. Instead, he offered the lady a smile and a friendly nod. She looked initially stunned and then horrified. He couldn’t entirely blame her. How was she to know he’d spent the last three days protecting an innocent maiden from nefarious kidnappers, then deflecting a murder threat from the maiden’s idiot cousin for the non-existent impugning of her virtue?
Well, almost non-existent impugning. There was no doubt he and Donella had crossed a line, however inadvertently. Waking up with her supple, enticing body snuggled up against his erection had not been part of the plan. If not for Donella’s quick thinking—and even quicker temper, matched only by her stubbornness—Logan had little doubt he’d be asking Lord Riddick for her hand in marriage.
Or facing death from any male relative of Donella Haddon.
Oddly, he’d been more than a bit annoyed by her refusal to even consider the notion. For an entirely deranged moment, the idea of marrying Donella hadn’t seemed awful. In fact, it had seemed rather interesting, which only proved he was in dire need of a good night’s sleep.
Still, when they’d finally parted at the border of Riddick lands, where a carriage awaited them, Logan was reluctant to let her go. Donella had seemed to share that feeling, unexpectedly throwing herself into his arms and giving him a fierce hug.
