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“Only until I was sure you wouldn’t try sneaking out the back laneway.”
She ignored his wry tone.
“And what does your family think about all these late nights, Dr. Kendrick?”
“That I have an uncanny number of pregnant patients, who have all decided to give birth in the same week.”
She couldn’t hold back a snicker. “Surely you could have come up with a better excuse.”
“It must be the lack of sleep. It’s impeding my ability to tell convincing whoppers.”
“It’s not my fault that you’re losing sleep,” she said, again feeling defensive and more than a wee bit guilty. After all, he worked harder than almost anyone she’d ever met.
“And isn’t that a pity?” he said.
She threw him a startled glance. “Um, what?”
Since they happened to be passing under a streetlamp, she finally got a good look at his face. He flashed her what could only be described as a roguish grin. Was he actually enjoying this benighted outing? What in heaven’s name was wrong with the man?
“Was that a question, Lady Samantha?”
“Yes. No. Oh, bother. I haven’t a clue what you’re talking about.”
She picked up the pace, all but jogging across the street as they headed into the park.
Kendrick easily kept stride, as if he hadn’t already spent a long day teaching and tending patients. There was nothing showy about Braden Kendrick. There were no overt displays of physical prowess, just a steady, quiet strength and a toughness of mind and character that was more valuable than brute muscularity. She’d witnessed those qualities when he’d faced down two murderous thugs with a chilly calm.
And that calm had also, she now understood, allowed him to exercise his obviously keen powers of observation, which was dismaying under the present circumstances.
“It wasn’t just what Bathsheba told you, was it?” she asked. “You guessed it was me after you met Felicity.”
“Yes.”
Oh, he was a marvel, all right—brilliant, observant, and quietly relentless. They were all admirable qualities but ones that could prove massively inconvenient if he decided to get in her way.
Halfway down the deserted path, she stopped under the shelter of an oak. He overshot her but then turned, observing her for a few moments before crossing his arms over his chest.
“Is there something you wish to say, my lady?”
His enquiry was so polite that she was tempted to laugh.
“Dr. Kendrick, while I appreciate your concern—and your stamina, since you have clearly expended a great deal of energy on my situation—”
“Oh, not yet I haven’t.”
His voice had suddenly gone deeper, colored by more than a hint of the Highlands, and it sent shivers dancing across her nerves.
She pushed back against the unaccountable reaction. “What does that mean, Dr. Kendrick?”
He took a step closer, looming over her. She tilted her head back to look at his face. Even under the shadow cast by the brim of his hat, she swore she saw a devilish gleam in his eyes.
“Nothing that I’m willing to share, at the moment,” he replied.
“And when will you share it with me?”
He tilted his head. “When you’re ready to hear it.”
And . . . yes, he was laughing at her.
