“Ugh,” Joseph said. “I don’t want to be pretty. Only girls are supposed to be pretty and sweet.”
The lad’s comment, and his father’s answering smile, chased away her melancholy moment.
“You’ll be a braw lad, I promise,” Logan said. “And thank God you take after your mother. We Kendricks are a sorry lot, always tumbling into trouble.”
“That’s certainly true,” said Donella. “The stories about Clan Kendrick are legendary in this part of Scotland.” She winked at Joseph. “And not for the right reasons, if you take my meaning.”
He perked up. “What sort of stories?”
“You’re too young to hear most of them, laddie boy,” his father replied.
“It’s all right, Papa,” Joseph said. “Grandda has already told me some.”
Logan narrowed his gaze on the old man. “I’ll have to be talking to Grandda about that.”
“I’m just tellin’ the lad a wee bit of his family’s history, is all,” the old man protested.
“That’s what I’m afraid of.”
“I like Grandda’s stories,” Joseph said. “They’re fun. He’s fun.”
Logan winced at the clear implication that he was not, in fact, fun.
Even though Donella was still annoyed with the blasted man, she couldn’t help but feel sorry for him. For all his faults, he tried mightily to be an excellent father. Joseph certainly didn’t make it easy for him.
“Why don’t we get finished with this swag?” Donella said. “Then we can have some tea and cakes. I think we’re done with this room, anyway.”
“And ye’ve done a grand job, lassie.” Angus cast an approving eye around the room. “Edie will be right pleased to see how festive ye’ve got it.”
Donella took a moment to inspect the result of her labors. “They were mostly Eden’s ideas. After all, she’s the one who knows how to celebrate Christmas in grand style.”
Still, she felt pleased with her work. The formal drawing room was spacious and elegant, with beautiful plasterwork in shades of cream and pale green offset by panels of red wallpaper. With its mahogany furniture, upholstered in matching shades of red, it made a perfect backdrop for the swags of laurels and bay leaves on the mantelpiece and picture frames, and the arrangements of holly wreaths and candles that dotted the tabletops. Eden had also suggested tying red velvet bows to the backs of the chairs and draping gold cloths over some of the smaller tables. When the lamps and candles were lit, the room would shimmer with a festive glow.
“Yes, but we’ve got a lot more to do,” Joseph reminded her. “We still have to decorate the entrance hall, the staircase, and the dining room. The servants have to put up all the kissing boughs in the ballroom, too.”
“Kissing boughs. My favorite,” Logan said, waggling his eyebrows at Donella.
She scowled at him, trying to ignore the heat rising to her cheeks. Really, the man had quite the nerve flirting with her after last night’s debacle.
“Yer losing yer touch, lad,” Angus said to Logan.
Joseph looked suspicious. “What are you talking about?” Then his expression brightened. “Oh, are you going to kiss Donella under the mistletoe?”
Logan smiled. “Well, now that you mention it—”
“No,” Donella blurted out. “You and your father are going to finish draping that swag, and then we’re going to have tea.”
“Spoilsport,” Logan murmured.
He took the swag and climbed the ladder, his height and long arms making easy work of draping the frame. Joseph handed him the red bow for the middle of the swag, and the job was done.
“Now can we have tea and cakes?” Joseph hopefully asked.
“I have another suggestion,” Logan said. “I’d like to take you Christmas shopping—to pick up some gifts for your uncles and Aunt Victoria. There’s a jolly candy shop we might nip into, as well.”
Donella’s heart sank. She’d wanted to spend more time with Joseph—and with Logan, truth be told, now that he was here.
Still, she forced a smile, since it was important for Joseph to spend time with his father. “What an excellent idea.”
“Can Donella come, too?” Joseph asked.
“I’m counting on it,” Logan said. “She can help me do a little shopping.”
She blinked at him. “Um, really?”
“Yes, really.” His warm gaze slowly tracked over her.
“But—”
“And Grandda is coming, too,” Logan added, smiling at his son. “He can help you pick out presents for Uncle Nick and Aunt Victoria, while Donella helps me find presents for you.”
“That’s a grand plan,” Angus said with an approving nod. “Well done, lad.”
It was a terrible plan. She might wish to spend time with Logan, but certainly not alone. “But how will we all fit in your curricle?”
“My groom can stay here. I can pick him up when I return you home.”
“But—”
Angus took Joseph’s hand. “Let’s go fetch our coats.”
“Huzzah,” Joseph said, scampering out with his grandfather.
Donella stared at Logan and tried to marshal her scattered thoughts. “Sir, I don’t need to do any Christmas shopping.”
He calmly met her gaze. “I do.”
“And you need my help?”
A roguish smile teased the corners of his enticing mouth. “Obviously, or I wouldn’t ask.”
Irritation finally got the better of her. “Perhaps you should ask Mrs. MacArthur. I’m sure she’d be happy to accommodate you.”
Almost immediately, her tangled emotions were overridden by the horror of her own stupidity. “I, uh . . .”
“Yes, about that,” he gently interrupted. “That’s why we need to talk.”
Tendrils of panic swirled through her stomach. “It’s none of my business, really.”
His jaw took on a stubborn—well, more stubborn than usual—tilt. “I disagree. I need to explain some things.”
When he took a step closer, she held up her hands. “Mr. Kendrick—”
“Are you coming, Donella?” Joseph asked, sticking his head back into the room. “Grandda said we might have time to go to the toy store and get a doll for Rowena. And look at the puzzles, too. But we have to go right now.”
Logan simply lifted an eyebrow in gentle challenge.
Hell and damnation.
“Coming, Joseph,” she said.
As she stalked past Logan, she threw him a seething glance. His only reply as he followed was a low, self-satisfied chuckle.
Chapter Twenty-Two
“Now that we’re finally alone . . .”
Donella cut Logan off. “Sir, we are in the middle of a busy street.”
When he unleashed his slow, seductive smile, their surroundings faded away. She gazed up into his eyes, caught as always by their extraordinary color. They reminded her of northern seas under a bright summer sky—hidden depths of blue that stretched to the horizon. Part of her longed to plumb those depths, while the other part wanted to hoist sails and head in the opposite direction.
Because she had secrets of her own, ones she needed to keep hidden safely away.
Logan dipped his head closer. “There’s a park down that side street. We could take a quiet stroll, if you wish.”
Donella resisted the competing urges to plant a hand on his chest and shove him away or grab his cravat and yank him down for a kiss. Instead, she tucked her hands inside her muff, wondering if she was losing her wits. It was an unfortunate prospect, since one insane woman in the family was already one too many.
When she caught a disapproving glance from a pair of elderly ladies, she stepped back. It was perfectly respectable for Logan to escort her, but Glasgow wasn’t London. He’d been standing much too close, and he knew it.
“I have no intention of slinking off to a park with you,” she replied. “So you can put that notion right out of your head.”
“I didn’t ask you to slink. I a
sked you to go for a walk, so we could talk more privately.”
She took his arm and began steering him along the sidewalk. “That, of course, is why you sent Angus and Joseph haring off. But as I already said, there is no need for a private discussion.”
He extracted his elbow from her grip. “I’m the gentleman, lass. I’m supposed to be escorting you, remember? Unless you wish to generate more gossip with your masterful ways.”
He jerked his head to indicate a couple in front of a milliner’s shop. They were eyeing her and Logan with disapproval. Since the pair looked vaguely familiar, Donella dredged up a smile. In response, the woman let out a censorious huff and disappeared with her companion into the shop.
“They never should have let me out of the convent,” Donella said with a sigh. “I have absolutely no manners.”
Logan chuckled. “Neither do I, but I suppose we should at least pretend we do while in public.”
“This entire expedition is ridiculous,” she groused. “You quite obviously do not want to go shopping with me. You simply wish to badger me, so you might as well get it over with.”
He adopted a long-suffering expression. “That is exactly what I’ve been trying to do.”
“Well, you don’t need to drag me off to a secluded park to do so. That, I might add, would not help my reputation.”
“Because it’s a rather delicate subject, I was hoping for some degree of privacy. But if you want to discuss it here in the middle of the bloody street, we certainly can.”
“Since I’m not sneaking off for a clandestine conversation, that is your only choice.”
His sideways glance held considerable frustration. “You can be an incredibly stubborn woman. Not to mention irritating.”
She barely refrained from sticking her tongue out at him.
And what would Sister Bernard have said about that?
The image of Sister’s horrified reaction had her choking down a laugh and made her wish even more she could give in to her silly impulse. She’d certainly come a long way from her convent days.
They walked in silence down the street.
“Why don’t we walk up to the church at the end of the street?” she asked, looking for a compromise. “It’s not busy up there, so we should be able to talk without half of Glasgow giving us the evil eye.”
He let out a sardonic snort. “I’d forgotten how small this town could feel. And how judgmental.”
“I’d forgotten that, too. The Kendricks do have a special knack for generating tittle-tattle. It seems to be a particular family talent.”
“Years of practice.” He steered her across the street to a quieter stretch of pavement. “That brings me to the point of this discussion. I owe you an apology, Donella. I was a complete buffoon last night, and I cannot tell you how much I regret it.”
Her heart slammed against her ribs. Whether it was from hope or dread, she couldn’t yet tell.
Don’t make a fool of yourself.
“Thank you,” she calmly replied. “You were simply greeting an old friend you hadn’t seen in a long time. Your surprise was understandable.”
“That doesn’t excuse my behavior. I all but abandoned you on the dance floor.”
“We weren’t dancing.”
“Donella—”
She flapped her muff at him to interrupt. “Very well, sir. You made your apology and I accepted it. There’s no need to discuss that business any further.”
He shot her that narrow-eyed glare again, one that always indicated immense irritation. “There is every need to mention that business, because there has been some sort of misunderstanding about Jeannie and . . . I mean about Mrs. MacArthur and me.”
Donella fixed her gaze on the tall steeple atop the church at the end of the street. “It’s truly none of my business.”
He gently pulled her to a halt and turned her to face him.
“It is your business,” he said in a terse voice.
She avoided meeting his eyes. “I don’t see why.”
“If you don’t see why, then you haven’t been paying attention. Mrs. MacArthur is an old friend. Nothing more.”
“But Victoria said—”
“I don’t care what Victoria said. What happened with Mrs. MacArthur is long in the past and will remain there. I give you my word.”
Rattled, she met his gaze. His irritation gave way to something much warmer, and that rattled her even more.
A smile twitched at his lips. “You really haven’t been paying attention, have you?” He shook his head. “Or else I have made a complete hash of this. What a pair we are, my sweet lass.”
Donella felt her mouth sag open. That turned his slight smile into a full-out grin as he tipped her chin back up with a gentle finger.
Annoyed that she’d been gaping at him like a half-wit, she scowled. “Are you saying that you’re actually courting me?”
“I tried to make that rather obvious, but apparently not obvious enough.”
“Good Lord,” she whispered.
When he continued to regard her with amusement, she made an effort to say something coherent. “But why? It makes no sense.”
“Doesn’t it?”
“I’m so happy you find this amusing,” she stiffly replied. “If I find out that Alasdair is bothering you about that stupid abduction attempt, I will murder you both. You need to stop acting like bacon-brained idiots. Absolutely nothing happened in that cabin, and you know it.”
Liar.
“One of the things I most like about you is your brutally refreshing honesty,” he said. “You think nothing of insulting a man to his face, even if he’s courting you. Especially if he’s courting you. It’s a bold tactic.”
Donella couldn’t decide whether she wanted to slap him or herself for engaging in such a ridiculous conversation. How it had gotten so ridiculous, and so quickly, was a bit of a mystery. But now all she wanted was for it to end.
“When a man acts with such a complete lack of decorum, I don’t know what else one should do. Now, if you’re quite finished insulting me—”
He gently reeled her back when she tried to stalk past him. “Come back here, daft girl. By the way, I believe you’re the one who’s insulting me, not the other way around.”
Even though his eyes still glittered with amusement, there was heat there, too—a seductive heat that fluttered her insides like a flock of sparrows.
Donella gazed up at him, feeling wooly-headed. “I . . . I don’t know what you want from me.”
“First, I want you to accept my apology for last night’s stupidity.”
“But I already did that.”
“I mean truly accept it.”
When she gnawed her lower lip, Logan’s gaze flickered down to her mouth and caught there.
“I do,” she hastily said. “Are we finished?”
“Not quite. I also need you to understand that I meant what I said about Mrs. MacArthur.”
She resisted the temptation to chew on her lip again. Anxiety and a burgeoning hope were destroying her nerves. “It didn’t seem so last night.”
“I truly was surprised to see her,” he admitted. “Mrs. MacArthur and I were once quite close.”
“From what I heard, you proposed marriage.”
His smile was wry. “Blunt, as always. I do like that quality.”
She refused to be distracted. “You were going to marry her.”
Now it was Logan’s turn to stare up at the church spire. “Yes, but whatever we had back then, well, let’s just say it’s best left in the past.”
Donella knew he was thinking about little Cam, and how he’d been unable to save him.
She fleetingly touched his chest. “I’m so sorry, Logan.”
He turned to look at her. For a moment, his eyes seemed as cold and stark as winter. But as their gazes held, the cold faded away.
“Victoria told you,” he said gruffly.
She simply nodded. For him, old wounds had been ripped open again, and
she suspected he wouldn’t wish to discuss it.
After a pause, he cleared his throat.
“Then you must see I have no wish to renew a relationship with Mrs. MacArthur.” He rolled his eyes. “For a thousand reasons.”
Donella’s heart sank. “I understand. Your family wouldn’t approve.”
He frowned. “They wouldn’t, but that’s not what I meant.”
“Of course, sir. I understand completely, truly I do.” And now she was babbling. “We are finished this discussion, are we not?”
His gaze was so riveting she had to fight the impulse to look away.
“Oh, lass, we’re not close to being finished,” he murmured, his brogue going deep and rough.
Donella’s stays suddenly felt tight, and she had trouble catching her breath. “We’d best get back. Angus and Joseph will be wondering where we are.”
Mischief gleamed in his eyes. “Coward.”
“And we are supposed to be Christmas shopping.”
When she gave him a little shove to get moving, he huffed under his breath.
Taking her hand, he tucked it back inside her velvet muff. “Don’t want your hands to get cold, love,” he murmured.
She dropped her gaze, annoyed that she was no doubt blushing like a schoolgirl.
“And, yes,” he added, “we’re going shopping. I think I’ll look about for a present for you.”
“You’ll do no such thing, Mr. Kendrick.”
“Logan.”
“Mr. Kendrick.”
When he laughed, she couldn’t hold back a reluctant smile. She was grateful when he asked her which shops she needed to visit, giving her a moment to recover her mental balance. To say her emotions were tumultuous would be to massively understate the case.
Was he truly courting her? And were his feelings for Jeannie MacArthur truly relegated to the past?
Donella’s instincts about men—about life—had been wrong more than once. And since those instincts were now urging her to allow Logan to woo her—and possibly wed her—she truly didn’t know how to respond.
The safest course would be the cautious one.
But I’m sick of being cautious.
“You mentioned that you wished to pick up snuff for Lord Riddick,” he said as they strolled past the fashionable storefronts. “There’s a good tobacconist just up ahead. Would you like to pop in?”
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