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“Just a few moments longer,” Kendrick quietly said.
Fuming, she held still, deciding she might as well let him get on with it.
But as she stood there, his long fingers gently holding her wrist, and his head bowed as he silently counted, she felt her heart and her irritation begin to settle. The warmth of the kitchen, the smell of baking bread, and Kendrick’s calm presence gentled her nerves. For a few moments, all seemed . . . peaceful.
“That’s better,” he said as he released her. “Your pulse was too rapid for a few moments.”
“I’m sure it was just because I’m worried about Donny.”
“Donny will be fine. You, however, could use a good cup of tea and a wee sit-down.”
“I will be sure to—”
He turned to the housekeeper. “Mrs. Johnson, is that tea for Lady Samantha?”
“Aye, and for ye as well, if ye’d like a cup.”
Behind his back Samantha frantically signaledno, but Mrs. Johnson steadfastly ignored her.
“I would love a cup,” Kendrick replied. “Thank you.”
By the time he turned back to her, Samantha had whipped her hands down to her sides, trying to appear as if she hadn’t just been flapping her arms like a goose about to take flight.
“My lady, shall I bring the tea tray up to the main drawing room?” prompted Mrs. Johnson.
Samantha concluded that it was best to act normally and have a blasted cup of tea with the blasted doctor. Putting him off would send the message that she was trying to dodge the conversation.
“Yes, that will be fine.” She nodded at Kendrick. “If you’ll follow me.”
“Thank you.”
She couldn’t fail to notice the glint of amusement in his deep, green gaze.
Stalking up the kitchen stairs, she didn’t hear him follow, so she glanced over her shoulder. And stumbled on the step, because he was only inches behind her.
Lightning quick, he grabbed her waist. “Careful, lass. Don’t want you breaking your noggin.”
Suddenly, he lifted her straight up and over the top step before settling her back down on the hallway carpet. Not only was he uncannily quiet, but strong, too. If her pulse had been rapid before, now it was racing like deerhound.
“Ahem,” she said, clearing her throat as she gathered her wits. “Is noggin the technical term, Dr. Kendrick?”
“Only in the Highlands,” he replied with a roguish smile.
For a man who was nothing like his scapegrace older brothers, the good doctor had apparently inherited his share of the notorious Kendrick charm.
Ignoring a prickle of heat under her stays, Samantha marched into the drawing room and waved him to one of the wingchairs. She took a seat on the chaise as Mrs. Johnson bustled in, setting the tea tray on the table between them. The housekeeper set out the cups, gave Samantha a surreptitious wink, and then swiftly retreated.
Clearly, Dr. Kendrick had won the female staff’s approval, which Samantha supposed wasn’t surprising. She, however, was entirely immune to his handsome features and charming smiles.
There was certainly no reason to be nervous, she told herself as she prepared his tea. In the last year, she had faced down more tricky situations than she could count. If she couldn’t manage a mild-mannered doctor, then surely it was time to hang up her disguise and her blade and go back to a life of quiet widowhood.
That clarity lasted until she glanced up to meet his gaze and very nearly lost her grip on the cup. Kendrick studied her with an almost unnerving intensity, his gaze seeming to strip away any pretense, as if he could burrow deep inside and find all her secrets. Even more disturbing, his perusal made her intensely aware of herself as a woman, most particularly as one sitting alone in a room with a very attractive man.
For several long moments, all she could do was stare back as the prickle under her stays turned into a full body flush of heat.
He frowned. “Lady Samantha, you’re beginning to worry me. Are you sure you’re feeling perfectly well?”
She forced herself to rally. “Goodness, yes, I’m fine. Please don’t worry.”
