AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Chapter Three
Donella eyed the man sitting across from her in the carriage. With his hat tipped over his eyes, arms crossed over his chest, and long legs stretched out, he looked ridiculously comfortable. She, however, was crowded against the side of the coach as she tried to avoid jostling into him.
She couldn’t really blame him for taking up room. Logan Kendrick was a veritable giant. But shecouldblame him for being cavalier, high-handed, and incredibly annoying. In fact, Donella was fairly certain she already hated the man.
Thankfully, at least he’d stopped talking. She fully understood the awkwardness of their situation, but she had no intention of offering an apology for any inconvenience. It wasn’t her fault that neither Reverend Mother nor her uncle had thought to provide a chaperone. Unfortunately, it had never occurred to her to ask about such a pertinent detail, either.
In fact, she’d had no control over the travel arrangements whatsoever. She’d told Mr. High and Mighty Kendrick exactly that after yet another delay in setting out. After all, how could she be blamed for one of the horses throwing a shoe just as Foster was pulling out from the inn to come fetch them?
As for the lack of a chaperone, well, what did it truly matter? As far as Donella was concerned, her life was as good as over. She’d failed at being a nun, and after working so hard at it, too. Just like she’d worked so hard at everything else in her life before joining the convent.
It was perplexing, because she used to be good at things, whether it was managing a large household, helping the local vicar in his charitable work, or excelling at her studies and music. These days she seemed to be stumbling about in the dark without a clue what to do next.
The carriage jolted through a large rut, forcing Donella to grab for the strap. Her companion stirred not a jot.
Mr. Kendrick was big, bold, and swaggering, with a self-confidence that set her teeth on edge. He was also quite handsome, with thick black hair, strong features, and eyes the blue of a mountain loch—deep, clear, and so penetrating they stole one’s breath.
When Donella had first emerged from the guesthouse, those eyes had swept over her in frank appraisal, no doubt because she looked like a perfect dowd in her ridiculous bonnet and gown. The sisters had done their best, but her old clothes had long since been given to the poor or ripped apart and refashioned for other purposes. She hadn’t cared one whit about her appearance during the week she’d wandered about the village and surrounding countryside, worrying about her future and waiting for her escort to Blairgal.
But shehadcared when Logan Kendrick fastened his sardonic gaze on her, sizing her up and obviously finding her lacking. The notion that he would think her attractive was ridiculous, which rendered the need for a chaperone entirely moot. He’d probably shoot himself before engaging in a flirtation with her, much less putting her in a situation that would necessitate he do the honorable thing by offering marriage.
She scowled at his sleeping form. “I’d boil myself in oil before I married the likes of you,” she muttered. “Just like one of the early martyrs.”
When Kendrick tipped up his hat to look at her, Donella almost slid off her seat.
“Careful, lass, or you’ll end up arse over teakettle,” he said, after thrusting out a hand to stop her slide. “Now, what were you saying? Something about marriage and martyrdom?”
Donella righted herself with as much dignity as she could. “You misheard me. I was praying to Saint Valentine.”
Oh, God.She’d pulled the first martyred saint she could think of out of her frazzled brain. The fact that Valentine was also the patron saint of romantic love was incredibly embarrassing.
“That makes perfect sense,” Kendrick said. “No lass in her right mind would ever think to equate marriage and martyrdom.”
“Really? Why do you think there were so many convents in the first place?”
“Maybe those poor ladies just didn’t meet the right man.”
He was clearly twitting her. She had the urge to stick her tongue out at him.
To avoid the temptation, she made a point of lifting the shade and squinting out against the setting sun. Would they never arrive at their inn? She wanted to crawl under a pile of covers and sleep, desperate to forget for a few hours what a mess her life had become.
“It’s not much longer,” Kendrick said in a more sympathetic tone. “The Perth Bridge should be only a few minutes ahead.”
“We’re stopping in Tibbermore, correct?” A small village, Tibbermore was a more secluded and private stop than the bustling market town of Perth.
Kendrick rolled his broad shoulders, trying to stretch in the tight quarters. “Yes, and not a moment too soon. I’ve had enough of carriages for one day.”
“We’ll have a long day tomorrow, I’m afraid.”
“Aye, but then we’ll reach Blairgal fairly early the day after.” He smiled. “I’m sure you’ll be glad to get home.”
Home.
She wondered if Blairgal or Haddon House, her brother’s small estate, would even feel like home anymore. She’d never expected to see either place again.
She forced a smile. “Yes, of course.”
“And happy to see your family, no doubt.”
