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“I take it you’re not thrilled with that plan. You’d rather bury yourself away in Galway forthwith.”
For a moment, she looked ready to take offense. Then she wrinkled her nose. “To be honest, I’m not sure what I want to do. I did rather muck things up the last time, didn’t I?”
Logan was relieved to hear that admission—a revelation he would keep to himself. “At least you don’t have Sister Bernard breathing down your neck anymore. She sounded worse than Medusa.”
“And not as cheerful.”
When Logan started to laugh, she reluctantly smiled. “I told you I wasn’t a very good nun.”
“You’ll find something else to be good at.”
“I hope so. For now, I will do my best to plan parties and have fun.”
“You deserve a little fun, lass, after everything you’ve been through.”
She shot him a sweet, almost shy glance through her long lashes, and he felt it go straight through to his groin. He had to resist the urge to shift in his chair.
“I haven’t yet thanked you for taking Joseph under your wing,” he gruffly said. “He’s a grand boy.”
“He’s a darling, and children really are the best part of Christmas, you know. They make it so lively.”
“I’d forgotten how much he loved Christmas,” he said ruefully. “I’m an idiot.”
Donella held her thumb and forefinger an inch or so apart. “Maybe just a wee bit.”
“Don’t hesitate to be brutal, lass.”
She grinned. “Sorry. You’re a very busy man, so it’s understandable it might slip your mind. Women usually manage that sort of thing, anyway.”
“Like his grandmother did. But I do need to spend more time with him.”
“I’m sure he’d like that.”
He waggled a hand. “Maybe. The poor lad’s had a hard time since coming here. Glasgow might not be the best place for him.”
“Because he’s a Catholic?”
“Told you that, did he?”
“He did.”
“It’s also because he’s of . . . mixed heritage.”
Her brow knit in confusion. “Because his grandparents are French speakers?”
He hesitated. “Partly. His grandfather was mostly Acadian, and his grandmother is primarily Mi’kmaq, one of the native tribes of that part of Canada. People are not always accepting, shall we say.”
“People can be stupidly intolerant, and the Scots are no saintlier than anyone else. Except maybe theSassenachs,” she added with a glimmer of a smile.
He let his smile cover a rather staggering sense of relief that she so easily understood his worries. “Angus would certainly agree with you. But Joseph is a sensitive boy, and he’s already suffered a few snubs.”
She grimaced. “That’s dreadful. I’m guessing, however, that you don’t exactly turn the other cheek.”
“I do try to refrain from tossing people off bridges, if that’s what you’re asking. But turning the other cheek generally doesn’t work in the real world.”
“It does if you tell your son that those who snub him are small-minded and best ignored. Better yet, pitied for the fools that they are.”
“I’ll be sure to try that the next time it happens.”
