Finlay’s Duty: The Victorian Highlanders Book 2

by St. Clair, Ellie

  “Nothing at all,” he said, crossing his arms over his chest. “Though perhaps, if you could not have had Callum, you would have preferred one of my other brothers?”

  She leaned back against the desk, closing the ledger and letting it dangle from one hand.

  “Your brothers have been my friends for years,” she said, slowly and quietly, realizing she would have to be the one to maintain reason. “Am I not supposed to enjoy a conversation with them now and again?”

  “A conversation?” he raised his eyebrows. “Every time I seek you out, you are either sharing secrets with Adam or being charmed by Roderick. At night after suppers, you seem much entertained by their stories.”

  “Aye, theirs or Peggy’s,” she said, trying to maintain her patience but failing. “I would be happy to spend more time in conversation with you, but anytime you are in the same room as me, the only thing you are committed to is beginning an argument. I honestly don’t know what you want from me, Finlay. Since we married, I have done nothing but try to help in the household, find my place in your family, and get along with everyone here. I have barely seen you besides mealtimes, so I could hardly ever speak with you. What else do you expect of me?”

  “I expect you to help my mother and Peggy,” he said tersely. “Not with Roderick, not with Adam, but on your own. If ye need help, ask one of the women. And I don’t believe you married me for my conversation skills. If you’ll excuse me now, I’ve work to do.”

  With that, he left the room in a storm, slamming the door behind him, leaving Kyla staring after him her mouth gaping and fury coiling deep within her soul.

  * * *

  Finlay stamped his feet down the hallway, cooling somewhat as he let himself out of the building. He was well aware of how unreasonable he had been, knew deep within him that all he was doing was pushing Kyla even further away.

  But when he saw the gentle smiles she gave Adam or the easy way she laughed with Roderick, jealousy burned within him. He knew neither of his brothers, nor Kyla if he was being honest, felt anything more for one another than the kinship between friends and relatives, but at the same time he also recognized how well her carefree spirit and easy laughter matched Roderick’s, and the way her caring nature and lovingness suited Adam so well. Finlay was everything she was not, and he could never provide her with the kind of life that she deserved.

  His head ached as he roamed the hill behind the castle, looking out over the loch below. The water always called to him and his feet moved of their own accord down to the shore. The way the wind rolled off the hills and down to the water, churning the waves, echoed the stirrings within his own soul.

  Somehow, despite the dance upon the loch’s surface, this valley provided him a sense of peace he couldn’t find anywhere else. His blood still boiling, Finlay looked around and, seeing no one about, he stripped down to nothing, the cold air biting his skin as he walked through the grass, over the sandy beach, and dove into the shallows, the shock of the freezing waters engulfing him and taking his breath away. It had the desired effect, however, of clearing his mind and easing the tension in his shoulders.

  Finlay rose to the surface, then took a breath and dove back down into the water, swimming out as far as he could. The water streamed over his bare skin, cooling him, calming him, reminding him of all the fortune that smiled upon him, of all that was at stake. He needed to be better. He needed to be the man Kyla wanted, if he had any hope of keeping her. Finally he needed air, and when he broke the surface, he thought he heard a voice calling to him. Perhaps it was the wind. But no, there it was again. He turned, looking for its source.

  “Finlay! Finlay McDougall!”

  He looked to shore, his gaze finally coming to rest on Kyla, standing on the rocky beach. In her simple skirt and white blouse, her long blonde hair blew in the wind, its own sunshine on this gray, cloudy day. She looked cold, and he realized with a start that he was starting to shake himself from the freezing water. The night temperatures had drastically cooled the loch, and he had jumped in thinking only of the relief the water would bring.

  “Get out of there! You’ll freeze to death!” Kyla called over the waves, her hands cupped around her lips so her voice would carry.

  “Leave me be, Kyla!” he yelled back at her. “Go back to the house.”

  “Not until you come out of the loch,” she shouted back at him as he reluctantly began swimming toward shore, realizing she wouldn’t leave until he emerged. If they kept up this shouting at one another, the whole house would soon be standing upon shore. “This is ridiculous—you must be mad!”

  As he neared the edge, he realized she hadn’t noted his plaid lying to the side, discarded when he had jumped in the water. While all of the brothers wore English garb when traveling south, here at home they preferred the traditional kilt, in the bright red of the clan.

  The McDougalls were never known for their modesty, and as he walked out of the water and onto the shore, he enjoyed seeing her mouth gape as she stared at him, taking him in from head to toe. He walked over and wiped his face with his plaid before fastening it around his waist.

  “You were saying?” he asked her.

  Kyla remained staring at him, her mouth gaping open, speechless, and Finlay finally had to laugh. Clearly, she had not been prepared for what faced her when he walked onto shore. He patiently waited for her to continue.

  “What—what did you say?” she asked, finding her voice.

  “I asked what it was you wanted to say to me.”

  “Oh,” she said, seeming to refocus. “Aye. I… I simply wanted to say that you canna run away from every argument. We are married now, and like it or not, for the time being we must learn to make do with the arrangement. And that means having reasonable conversations. You canna rage and storm away every time something happens you don’t like. While we may not be a traditional husband and wife, we are, at the very least, business partners and must work that way.”

  He considered her words for a moment, then nodded. He knew his anger bested him sometimes, and she was so rational, so reasonable that he was rather embarrassed at his actions toward her, showing far too well how much he cared.

  “As you say,” he said, swallowing hard, “my apologies.”

  “Your what?” she asked, as if she hadn’t heard him.

  “My apologies.”

  “Oh. Well, thank you,” she said, seemingly incredulous that he would admit a mistake.

  “Is something the matter?” he asked.

  “It’s just that… I dinna think I have ever heard you apologize…to me, or to anyone.”

  He shrugged. She was likely right, but he didn’t want to talk to her about it. He turned and began walking back toward the house, leaving her in his wake. She ran to catch up with him and his long strides.

  “What were you thinking, anyway, jumping into a freezing cold loch?” she asked.

  “I needed to cool off. The cold doesna bother me much.”

  “Finlay, why must you be so angry?” she asked, her voice desperate, and something broke within him that she thought him that way. It wasn’t that he was angry. He just… he always seemed to be the only one who cared about what they were all responsible for. “There was no need to be jealous of me spending time with your brothers. They are my brothers now, too, or did you not realize that when you married me? I believe I have every right to converse with them as I see fit and not be concerned about my husband becoming so irate that he would throw himself into a loch.”

  He sighed and finally stopped and turned toward her. His quick swim had accomplished its desired effect and had actually cooled him down some—both his temperature and his emotion. He placed his hands on her shoulders, looking deeply into her eyes.

  “I need you to know that I am not them, Kyla,” he said, his words void of emotion. This was the truth, and she needed to understand. “I am not quiet and steady like Adam, nor humorous and light like Roderick, nor charming and understanding as is Callum. I canna give y
ou any of that. Perhaps I should have made that clearer before we were married.”

  “I knew who you were when I married you. If you just be yourself, I can live with that,” she said, her hands on her hips. Her voice quieted. “Bring down the walls that surround you and let me in sometimes. That’s all I ask.”

  “’Tis a lot to ask of me, Kyla,” he responded, looking off into the distance.

  “You canna tell me what you’re thinking, what you’re feeling now and again?” she asked, tilting her head to the side as she studied him. “We’ve been married over a week and I have barely spoken with you. All I ask is for a conversation now and then, for you to allow me into your life. The others have done so, why can you not?”

  He looked at her, holding her gaze for a moment.

  “I will do my best,” he finally said. “I have two and a half months to do so, do I not?”

  “It’s not the time,” she said impatiently. “I need to know we can live together in peace.”

  “Then peace,” he said slowly, “is what I shall give you.”

  On that, he turned and walked away to the house, leaving her staring after him. He could feel her gaze fixed on him, and he tried not to shiver as the cold water dripped off his long dark hair and down his back. He had to figure out a way to make this work, for he couldn’t bear to lose her.

  8

  If Kyla had been asked, she would have to admit that Finlay did make more of an effort to speak to her over the next few weeks. That was, if one could count, “Hello,” and “How are you,” and “Goodnight,” as conversations. She supposed he felt he was giving her peace by basically ignoring her.

  Kyla tried to strike up a relationship of sorts with him—one beyond whatever they currently were. She really did. She asked him how his day had been, where he had been, what he had done, who he had talked to… but she was usually met with a wall of silence.

  She would never admit it if anyone asked—though no one did—but she did find him a fine specimen of a man. It was unfortunate that he was so very, very trying.

  He had been right in one aspect of what he said to her at the loch. His brothers were much easier to get along with, and perhaps would have been easier to be married to. However, she had been promised to marry him, and she would do what she could to make the next couple of months work for both of them. Could that become a long-term situation? She wasn’t sure. She liked the McDougalls, and enjoyed the family banter and the love they shared, but she was still an outsider, still a MacTavish in their home. She didn’t know if that would change in time, but promised herself she would do what she could to better the situation for all of them.

  Perhaps she would feel more inclined to stay if Finlay ever came close to showing her the littlest bit of affection he had hinted at the night of the wedding. It was as if he was holding back from her, hiding a side of himself that he didn’t want to make known.

  At least, she held onto hope there was more to the other part of him. There had to be something else besides the silent front he presented to her. Even at times when the family sat together, eating or working in the house or generally enjoying one another’s company, Finlay was fairly closed off and only joined the conversation now and again to offer a fact or suggestion, cracking a smile from time to time only if and when something truly entertained him.

  She did appreciate how hard he worked. It seemed that if he wasn’t doing something around his own castle or courtyard, he was helping one of the crofters with a repair or with their animals or another rising issue.

  His father was chieftain, true, and consulted with Finlay on many matters, but Duncan remained at Galbury while his son was out dealing with issues face-to-face. Not that Duncan wasn’t appreciative and complimentary of Finlay’s efforts. Adam and Roderick were attentive as well to the needs of the lands and the crofters, and it did allow Duncan to function without many hired men. But Finlay was the one people asked for, who they wanted to deal with, for what he lacked in friendliness, he made up for by ensuring all matters were addressed efficiently.

  “Give him time,” Jane continued to tell Kyla as she noted Finlay’s disregard for her. “He’ll come around and show more warmth. Have some patience, dear.”

  Kyla was having some difficulty waiting for the day. She knew Jane meant well and wouldn’t tell a lie, but Finlay was her son, and Kyla supposed Jane had a much different view on him than she ever would. Peggy, similarly, was encouraging, telling Kyla that Finlay was opening up since she had married him. Kyla had raised her eyebrow at that. If this was opening up, she wouldn’t like to see what a closed-off Finlay McDougall looked like.

  Kyla had been spending more time than she liked in the house despite the chilly weather, and one afternoon she could stand it no longer. There was only one solution to the restlessness that coursed through her soul—running Cadarn. She was headed to the stables when a groom came racing out before she reached the door. “Miss! Is Finlay in the house?”

  “No, I believe he’s out at the moment,” she responded, frowning at his urgency. “Is something the matter?”

  “It’s Hurley. Something has that horse agitated and we canna calm him down. Only his master can.”

  With that, the groom ran off, she supposed to continue searching for help. Kyla looked after him for a moment, then slipped inside the stables to see if something could be done with the horse. When she entered the building, she saw the man had not been exaggerating. The beautiful black stallion was on his hind legs, pawing at the air with his front hooves.

  In the stall next to him, Cadarn’s nostrils flared as she stepped back as far as possible from the stallion, who was clearly trying to break free. Kyla slowly, calmly, approached the stall, murmuring gentle words as she reached a hand in over the door, crooning to the horse as he came down on all fours. He shoved his nose hard against her hand, and she ran her fingers over his face before patting his neck, softly speaking to him and taking his attention onto her and off whatever had spooked him.

  When he seemed calm enough, beginning to tap his nose against her hand instead of the urgent shoving, she let herself into the stall, continuing to pet him. She slowly walked around the horse, trying to ascertain what might be wrong. Noticing his continued tamping of his right front leg, she reached for it and finally saw a long splinter stuck in one his hooves.

  She knew she would need help to remove it and avoid being kicked by the horse, so she continued to soothe him gently as she waited for help to return.

  The stable door burst open as Finlay ran in.

  “Kyla, get out of there!” he said urgently, seemingly trying not to shout to keep from startling the horses any further.

  “It’s fine, Finlay,” she said softly, holding out a hand in front of her. “I do need your help though. Come in.”

  With deft movements, he let himself into the stall, eyeing her with trepidation. She could tell Finlay would prefer she leave, but he seemed to accept the fact that she was remaining in the stall with him.

  “Get back from his head a bit,” he muttered instead. “Hurley’s been known to knock stable hands to the ground before.”

  “I’ll be fine,” she said. “Animals seem to understand what I’m about.” She pointed to the foot, showing him the issue. “We’ll need some tools.”

  Between her steady assurance at the animal’s head and Finlay’s patient work on the foot, they managed to quickly and easily remove the splinter of wood.

  Finlay fed Hurley and wiped him down before wordlessly following Kyla out of the stall and into the stable corridor.

  “You have quite the way with horses,” he said, leaning back against the stall as he studied her. Kyla figured it was the closest he had ever come to providing her a compliment.

  “I do,” she responded with a nod. “You would know that if you spent time with me on occasion.”

  He pushed off the hard planks of the stall door and began walking back toward the house. “I believe I spend time enough with you, Kyla,” he said a
s she had to stride quickly to keep up to him and hear what he was saying. “Every meal, most evenings—”

  “We sit with your entire family,” she finished. “We are husband and wife, Finlay. Should we not spend more time with one another—alone?”

  “What did you have in mind?” He turned toward her then, his big body suddenly within her space, his face inches away from hers. Her heart began to beat rapidly of its own accord. He was so close she could see the stubble of hair on his chin, beginning to grow back already after his last shave, lines around his eyes from taking on too much responsibility and not resting often enough.

  She swallowed hard.

  “I… I meant time to speak, to learn more about one another.”

  “What do you wish to know? You know who I am, where I am from, who my family is. I am who I am. There isn’t much more to it.”

  “All right then,” she responded slowly. “Perhaps, then, more about our desires, our wishes, what we see for the future.”

  “My future is this clan. I believe that has been fairly clear. It’s you who have yet to determine what it is you wish for the long term once our agreed-upon timeline reaches a close.”

  “You told me you would listen to me, to my ideas,” she insisted. “I certainly wish you would make good on that promise. I have some thoughts. I think we could better manage some of the crops. If we simply moved a couple of the crofters to—”

  “No,” he said simply, and he turned from her and kept walking.

  “But I—”

  “I said no, Kyla. We’re not moving anyone.”

  “If you’d let me finish,” she said, refusing to be ignored, or to back down from his surliness. “I think that there are better lands—”

  “Review the household work, Kyla. I’ll manage the land and the rents.” She saw him ground his jaw.