Rory had, through his visits to the cities, come up with a scheme of welcoming visiting Lowlanders, who paid to hunt on their lands, but she was yet to decide if the idea was his best or his worst. It had given some people jobs, such as gamekeeper and gillies to lead the Lowlanders around through the woods, but it also took away land which the people could use for their own purposes.
Despite his many faults, however, Kyla loved Rory, more than she did anyone else in the world. In many families, he would be the one expected to protect her, but she had spent her entire life mothering him and attempting to make up for his irresponsible ways.
She would always be grateful for his presence as a strong shoulder for her to lean on and an ear for her to pour her heart out to. If her father ever came down hard on her, Rory was there, letting her rage her frustrations or cry out her hurt. For that, she would always love him.
Now that she was no longer marrying, her plan was to remain with the clan to do all she could to help Rory.
She thought she could help him become a capable chief, if she were there to oversee the administration of the lands and their leases. A large part of that would include winning back the loyalty of their crofters. Her father had stripped so many of them of their homes and lands that many had left, and those who had stayed now hated Niall, and, by extension, Rory.
Rory apparently didn’t care. It didn’t seem as though he had much thought at all for their home or their clan. He would prefer to be elsewhere.
Kyla cringed when she thought of her family’s current position in comparison to many others in the nearby area. While many clans, like hers, were surviving by changing their methods to focus on the land and not the people, it was not an honorable way to live. She preferred the methods of clans like the McDougalls, not that her father would ever listen to her. He would allow her to do all the work required, but he wouldn’t take her opinions into account.
Duncan McDougall, while a tough, stubborn man who intimidated most, also loved his people, and he was proud of his family’s history protecting his clan. She knew they had no intention to erase that legacy today.
As much as she was relieved, it was to the detriment of the clans that they were no longer integrating. They could have mutually benefited from the strengths of one another.
There was nothing to be done now, she thought, as she felt the breeze through her long blonde hair. Instead, she would focus on the positives.
She was free.
2
A proud new papa greeted the brothers when the McDougalls turned toward Mack’s yard.
“Ah, all three of you! Come see these beauties!” Mack crowed, waving them in as they rode three abreast into his yard. “They came easy as can be and their mama is doin’ just fine. Now the one calf is strong and sure, though Betsy hasn’t quite taken to the little one yet. We’re workin’ on her, though.”
Finlay and his brothers dismounted and tied their horses to the fencepost before following Mack into his barn. Finlay’s eyes flickered around the building, noting everything. He noted boards that could use some repairs and resolved to return to fix them soon. Before he could make any further plans, however, he saw them—the twin calves, curled up next to their mother.
“Thanks for comin’, boys,” Mack continued. “Look at them. Are they not the finest little babes ye ever saw?”
The McDougall brothers showed their appreciation for the calves before Finlay got down to try to coax the little one to eat. The calf and Betsy didn’t seem much inclined to bond, and Finlay knew if they didn’t get him suckling, he’d soon starve.
“You two continue on,” he said to Adam and Roderick. “Mack and I will work on this one.”
His brothers nodded and resumed their visits with their crofters, as Finlay settled in for what he knew could be a stretch of time. He stroked the calf and worked him toward the udder as he simultaneously urged the mother to accept the little one. He and Mack spent the next couple of hours with the trio, until finally they were rewarded when the little calf started suckling. Finlay leaned back on his heels with a sense of relief, running a hand through his dark hair, brushing the straight locks back from his forehead.
He could sense Mack’s pleasure at the extra cow, an additional unexpected blessing. Finlay was pleased for him. It had been some time since fortune had smiled on Mack McDougall.
“If that would be all, Mack, I’d best continue on my way,” he said to the man, who smiled at him through a face that had seen many summers.
“Off to do your rounds, are ye, Finlay?” he asked. “I tell you, your pa may as well give you leave to run the place now. You practically do anyway, in all but title.”
“My father has some time left as chieftain, and he does a fine job of it,” said Finlay loyally, as he stood and brushed the straw from his kilt.
“I’m not saying he don’t,” said Mack. “All I’m telling you is the people know you and they trust you Finlay, and that’s saying a lot. I always liked Callum well enough, but… the boy always had too much adventure in him to do the job needed here.”
“I appreciate that, Mack,” he said, clapping a hand on the old man’s bony shoulder. “Truly.”
As Finlay mounted his horse and rode away from the barn toward the next crofter’s land to meet up with his brothers, he shook his head at Mack’s words. It wouldn’t do to have people thinking his father wasn’t up to the task at hand. For if Mack felt that way, then likely everyone else did as well.
What he was supposed to do about it, though, he had no idea.
* * *
Finlay chose the short route through the trees along the edge of the property that bordered the MacTavish holdings. Roderick was right—it was a fine day despite the slight chill in the air. The sun cut through the trees above him, sending rays of light through the turning leaves. It was still and quiet, just as Finlay liked it.
Part of being a member of the McDougall clan meant being continually surrounded by people, so Finlay was always grateful for rare moments of solitude.
Suddenly Hurley reared up, whinnying loudly. Finlay tightened his hands on the reins, calling out to the horse until he finally managed to regain control just in time to see a vision of white seemingly appear out of the air beside him.
Atop the majestic white mare sat the woman he had loved since childhood. Her blonde hair flowed down over her white linen shirt. The plaid she had thrown over her shoulders, likely for warmth, was now askew, hanging down over her saddle. Her face was flushed as she reined in and smiled, unsettling him.
“Kyla!” he barked before he could think better of it. “For the love of all that is holy, can you not slow down for a moment? Ye startled Hurley so much that he almost threw me.”
“Almost threw you?” she responded with a merry laugh, turning her horse alongside Finlay and Hurley, joining him despite the fact he hadn’t extended an invitation. “I thought you were a better horseman than that, Fin.”
“Don’t call me that,” he said, keeping his gaze ahead of him.
“My apologies,” she said stiffly, her smile fading. “It’s just, everyone does Fin— Finlay. I always have before. I dinna see why—”
“It’s Finlay, Kyla. Always has been.”
In truth, he didn’t mind when she called him Fin. It was her speaking so familiarly to him that he could not bear. Hearing his name so sweetly on her lips sent his mind to places it had no right to be.
“Fine then, Finlay,” she said, as he caught the eyeroll she sent his way.
Finlay had loved Kyla since, he supposed, the day he had met her, though it took him a few years before he realized it. She was sweetness and light and goodness—everything he was not — and, to him, perfection. And had always been promised to marry his brother, Callum. Finlay had always known this—everyone did. And yet he loved her anyway.
He had not told anyone of his feelings for Kyla. Not when he was a young boy with a crush, and certainly not now when he was a man who desired her for all that she was and al
l that he could never have.
His siblings had guessed at the truth, although they didn’t know the extent of his feelings—except, apparently, for one of them. Callum, despite having the expectation placed upon him to marry Kyla, had never shown any interest in her beyond friendship. He had never expressed to any of them an actual desire to marry Kyla nor, Finlay realized now, any plans to do so at all. His brother must have sensed his feelings and stayed away for his sake, despite what their fathers had planned.
It was somewhat like the land and the clan in general, Finlay realized. Callum knew what his brother wanted better than Finlay knew himself.
“Where are you off to this fine morning?” she asked Finlay, cutting through his thoughts.
“Fine? There’s quite a chill in the air,” he responded, despite his thoughts to the contrary and he grimaced. Why could he not be friendly and carefree, as Callum or Roderick would be? Why could he not simply say, “Yes, Kyla, it is a lovely day”? But no. Not him. He sighed and answered her original question.
“I’m going down to the mews to see some of our crofters.” He frowned, worried about leaving her once more to continue her mad dash through the trees. What had she been thinking? “Kyla, you and that horse are out of control, running wildly through the forest. Who knows who you could have come upon or what dangers you could have encountered?”
“Finlay!” she exclaimed with an exasperated laugh. “Whatever has gotten into you? Cadarn and I run this same route, at the same speed, every single day. Ye know as well as I do that I’m more than capable of managing a horse. We should come to no danger.” She sobered. “But if it bothers you so greatly, I will stay on the MacTavish land and refrain from crossing over to McDougall land in the future.”
“’Tis not what I meant, Kyla,” Finlay grunted as the narrowing of the path nudged their horses closer together.
The truth was, he had always been concerned for her. Kyla had a tendency to take life at a breakneck speed, not considering the dangers that might come her way. So instead, he worried for her. As children he would watch as she would be the first to dive off a cliff into the loch below, swing from a tree branch, or gallop her horse through trails unknown, something she still did today. He did know she was as capable on a horse as any of them were, and Cadarn was a fine animal that would hold steady and true. “I’m just looking out for your safety, is all.”
“Well, I appreciate that, Finlay, but there is no cause for concern,” she said breezily. “Besides, I know these lands as well as anyone—even you. I’ll accompany you down, if you’d like.”
“Of course,” he mumbled, although he wasn’t sure if he wanted her beside him or not. It felt too good to have her riding next to him.
“I heard your crofters are restless,” he said, trying to think of something to speak with her about.
“The ones we have left, you mean?” she asked, raising her eyebrows as she turned to look at him.
“Aye. The more your father moves them, the more they leave. The poor souls, Kyla, can your family not think beyond making a profit?”
“Do you mean surviving?’ she asked, her ire clearly raised at his. “We are all doing what we need to do, Finlay. Aye, my father has moved his crofters to make room for sheep, and for the hunting. I do feel for them, I truly do, but they have not made it easy on my father, either.”
“Because he has not been fair to them!” exploded Finlay, passionate now as he championed the MacTavish people. “Giving them no notice, moving them to non-arable pastures where they can barely raise animals or plant any crops? What are they to do?”
She sighed. “Whatever you think, Finlay, you have no right to disparage my family—a family who has been close allies and neighbors of yours for generations.” She softened. “I understand you care about the land, but you have to understand the position of the chieftains. Everything has changed. My father is doing the best he can, and my brother—”
“Your brother!” he scoffed. “Rory is nothing but a lazy oaf who would rather spend his time in Glasgow cavorting with—”
“Finlay!” she stopped him, as she circled Cadarn around, her anger visible. “Yes, my brother spends too much time away from the Highlands, but that gives you no right to question my family’s ways of doing business.”
Finlay pulled up his horse when he realized she’d left his side. He took in her flushed, angry face and the rigid way she held herself on top of the horse and realized he’d gone too far. Yes, the way Niall and Rory MacTavish ran their clan angered him. Their crofters had become irate, and the discontent was spreading to his own people. He wished Kyla could see it for herself, where he was coming from and what the best path forward would be. But he also did understand loyalty to one’s family.
He tried to check himself but couldn’t keep from responding to her statement.
“Kyla, this is so much more than business. Our clans are our families. We share a history with them, going back generations. When things are difficult, we must band together, not feed off of them, living a lavish lifestyle while they suffer!”
Kyla said nothing for a moment, and when Finlay looked closer, he saw she was shaking with anger. What he didn’t know was if she was angry at him or at herself.
“Do you know, Finlay, I was having an enjoyable morning until I ran into you. You know as well as I do that there is no longer much left of the clan way of life,” she said, looking at him with her nose in the air. “The McDougalls are holding onto the past when, as their future leader, you must look to the future.”
“How glad you must be that you no longer have to marry Callum and join the McDougall family, who don’t understand the prospering future business of the MacTavishes,” he responded with sarcasm. “What will you do with yourself now?”
She turned to him, her green eyes flashing in anger as she glared at him.
“Whatever I choose to do, Finlay McDougall,” she said, “It is certainly none of your concern.”
With a flick of Cadarn’s reins, she turned and raced away, leaving him staring after her.
Whatever had come over him? Finlay kicked himself. If he couldn’t have the easy-going charm of Callum and Roderick, he wished he had the sense to keep his mouth closed like Adam.
The problem was, he cared too much. About the clans, and about her. He knew her too well and loved her too deeply to not be concerned with her family’s affairs.
Roderick had always told him when it came to women to keep things simple, to speak about the weather, or gossip among the people. Kyla, however, was so much above that, and Finlay certainly couldn’t bring himself to discuss such mundane matters when there were items of much more importance to explore.
He and Kyla hadn’t had many one-on-one conversations. Usually there was a whole horde of family about, and she had always been much better friends with Callum and Roderick. He also knew he shouldn’t have mentioned her future, although he only did so because he thought of it likely as often as she did. He didn’t think he would ever love another, but he knew he would never pursue her, as she could never love him back. He was aware that he was hard to love, he knew that. “Brooding” was the term his sister Peggy used to describe him. “Pain in the arse,” his brothers would say, although they all respected his wisdom and the tenacity with which he dedicated himself to their holdings. Even though, he supposed, it was likely more because none of them wanted to deal with the responsibility, so they were more than happy to leave it to him.
“You need to add spirit to your life,” Peggy always told him, and she was right. He needed more light in his life. He just didn’t know how to find it.
3
Of all the nerve, Kyla thought as she raced back through the trees to Darfield Keep, home of her family, the MacTavishes. Who did Finlay McDougall think he was, that he could talk to her so? Insulting her family and insinuating she had no future now that his brother had left her behind for another? It irked her to no end.
She loved the McDougalls, she really did. She
had grown up with them; they were her childhood playmates and remained her friends to this day. But Finlay had always been a prickly one. More often than not, he had refrained from their exploits, looking on with disdain. He had always been lacking the fun in life, and for that reason they had never been particularly close.
She was also angry because she knew some of what he said was a little too close to the truth. However, he had to understand that to survive as a clan, change was required—one could not be afraid of living in a different way. It was true, she didn’t always agree with her father’s decisions, but there had to be a middle ground.
When Kyla returned to the keep, she unsaddled Cadarn and spent some time brushing her down after the hard ride through the hills and the brush. It was therapeutic, relaxing and calming her after the heated conversation with Finlay.
She entered the small castle, surprised to see her father shaking hands with none other than Duncan McDougall as her brother Rory stood to the side with a smirk on his face.
“Good day to you then, Duncan,” said Niall as he said farewell to one of his oldest acquaintances. “We will speak again soon.”
Duncan nodded at Niall and Rory before finally smiling warmly at Kyla as she stood just inside the door before he took his leave.
“Whatever was that about, Father?” she asked as she shook her tangled hair back from her face.
“Come, Kyla,” he said, motioning her in the door. “Have the noon dinner with us. There is much to discuss.”
“With me?” she eyed him warily, cocking an eyebrow. She helped her father with much of his business interests, but he typically didn’t consult with her, just listened to her suggestions and took on any that would make money as his own ideas, ignoring her pleas for improvements for the people who served the land.
Finlay’s Duty: The Victorian Highlanders Book 2 Page 2