Mack laid a hand on top of hers. “Nothing a bit of soap won’t fix.”
She swiped her wet cheek and darted a glance at him. “Why are you being so nice to me? I’ve made poor decision after poor decision.”
“I would argue you’ve made a valiant effort to salvage a series of unfortunate events. Other than the attempted murder, of course.”
“Other than that.” Her lips twitched, and then she sighed. “I’m sorry. It all just became…too much.”
“I know. For me, too.”
She picked at the clumps of dirt on her skirt. “What do we do now?”
Mack stood and pulled her up beside him. “We walk. I think we’re more than halfway there. Can you manage three or four miles?”
Her old boots were in terrible condition, but she’d do whatever needed to be done. “I can.”
He cupped her cheek. “That’s my girl.”
She rose to her full height. “Mr. Donnelly, I am not your girl.”
The man rolled his eyesin her face.“Really? You’ve spent the whole day making sure I didn’t get sick, tussled in the mud with me, and youstillwant to use my formal name?”
“Decorum is the only thing holding me together right now.”
“Well, it serves no purpose in the wilderness. Call me Mack.”
“Fine. You may call me Winnifred or Winnie.”
“I prefer Bobcat.” He chucked her under the chin when she groaned. “So, what do you say? Friends?”
She clasped his hand in hers and gave it a firm shake. “Enemies no more, but friends I cannot yet claim.”
“I’ll just have to work harder.”
Her knees weakened at the intensity in his words, and anticipation coiled low in her belly. His kiss—good gracious, was that only hours ago?—still seared her every pore. What couldworking harderpossibly entail? And should she be concerned that shereallywanted to find out?
Tugging her hand free before she could do something silly like twine her fingers through his, she said, “Let’s go examine your valise. Any warm clothing is mine.”
CHAPTER12
Mack contemplated Winnie as she marched down the dirt road a step ahead of him. Despite the brief tears and amusing wrestling match, she was back in good spirits. Few people, himself included, had the ability to shake off major setbacks like they were a momentary inconvenience.
She impressed the hell out of him.
He’d do everything possible to make sure the rest of their journey went smoothly. Since he’d spent most of his childhood summers on the island, it shouldn’t be too difficult. He’d call in every favor he had if it meant Winnie would be taken care of. The decision felt right, natural, and Mack would have reveled in it if not for the unsettling knowledge that no favor was grand enough to protect him once she discovered he still planned to undermine her every attempt to publish on suffrage at thePost. He shoved the troubling thought away. One problem at a time.
Then Winnie began to limp.
He drew her to a halt. “What’s wrong?” Had she hurt herself when they wrestled in the mud? Or worse—when his weight had fallen on top of her?
“It’s my boot. The heel came loose when I slipped in the mud. I don’t want it to detach, so I’m trying not to put too much weight on it.”
He pursed his lips. “If you keep walking like that, you’ll be in real pain before long. Let me have a look.”
“It’s fi—”
He held up a finger to silence her. “It’s not fine. I know we don’t always see eye to eye, but I’m not the kind of man that will let a woman suffer when I can do something about it. Now go sit on that log and show me your boot.”
Winnie’s jaw dropped, but she did as ordered.
