Finlay’s Duty: The Victorian Highlanders Book 2

by St. Clair, Ellie

  His caresses sent tingles down to her toes, and she gasped at his intensity, though she shouldn’t have been surprised. Finlay McDougall did nothing halfway. If he was intent on something, he would see it through. The thought prompted her to imagine all that could await, and she pressed even closer against him, needing more.

  He began pulling down her nightgown, and she was suddenly desperate to discover what it might feel like to be bare against him. When he pushed the sleeves over her shoulders and when her breasts fell out of the garment, he groaned, cupping them, teasing her sensitive nipples with hands rough from manual work.

  She moaned and her head fell back, leaving her neck exposed for him to rain soft kisses down upon it, sending shivers along her spine.

  As he led her over to the bed, he stopped suddenly, pulling back from her, leaving her feeling bereft and alone. Eyes slightly hazy from being swept up in desire, she looked up at him in question.

  “Kyla,” he said softly, bringing her back to the present moment, and for the first time in their lives she wished Finlay wouldn’t say another word.

  “I need to know, before we take this any further, is this what you want? You said we would not sleep as husband and wife until you determined it was what you wished. Is it now so?” He looked at her with some concern. “I must hear you say the words.”

  She took in the seriousness of his eyes, the furrow in his brow. He was a hard man, who didn’t take much in life lightly. He focused on his responsibilities above all else, and didn’t allow much time for laughter or the vibrancy that each passing moment could bring.

  But she had seen the other side to him, the side that cared. About her, about his family, about his people. It wasn’t just the gentle vulnerability of this evening, but the way he always did what was best for others who needed him.

  It was what drew him to her, and it made her see the goodness inside of him. Besides what she felt about his character, she knew she could no longer deny the fact that she wanted him. She desired this man—her husband—with a yearning she had never felt before. That he was here, wanting her in the same way, made her realize that there was only one answer.

  She lifted a hand, softly running her fingers over that furrowed gaze, wishing she could take away all of his worries.

  “Aye,” she said, hearing the desperation in her voice. “I want this, Finlay—I want you.”

  * * *

  It was all he needed to hear as he lowered his head and kissed her with the passion of a man who was finally finding the treasure he had sought for so long.

  He eased her back onto the bed, freeing her from the rest of her nightclothes as he did so. He took a moment to sit back and truly admire her. She was beautiful—all of her—from the top of her sun-kissed hair down her slim, strong rider’s body, to her perfectly formed toes, her soft skin like satin beneath his fingertips.

  His entire life, Finlay had loved this woman from afar. He now realized that for so many years he had more so loved the idea of her, and saw now how different it was to want the real woman for who she was and all she was to him.

  He knew her now, so much better than before. He knew who she was, what she stood for, what had meaning for her. He also knew she didn’t love him back and probably never would. But she seemed to care for him, and there didn’t seem to be any question that he desired her in equal measure, and that would have to be enough. Where he was an ice sculpture, she was the heat of the flame that had slowly melted his resolve with her dancing light and he could not deny this moment any longer.

  He, of course, had always wished for her, but had never dreamed it to be possible. Now the moment he had waited his entire life for was here, in front of him, and it was so much better than he ever could have dreamed it to be.

  He readied her for him, stroking her in the most intimate of places, loving the rapture on her face as she responded to what he was doing to her. Her eyes flew open, and she suddenly seemed to realize that he was still clothed. She ripped at his garments, clumsily undoing his belt and tugging down the kilt so he was as naked as she.

  It seemed that she could take what he was doing to her no longer, for she reached up and stroked him as he did her, drawing him closer to her. He couldn’t wait anymore.

  “Are you ready?” he asked her, hearing his breath coming in quick gasps.

  “More than you know,” she responded with a sly grin, though her expression changed to one of breathlessness as he gently slid himself into her, easing in slowly as he filled her.

  She gasped and he stilled when she winced, hating himself for hurting her but unable to do anything except try to ease it for her. He was about to ask her if she wanted to stop, but then she arched her back and moved her hips against his. He took that as his sign to continue, and began moving back and forth with her, physically showing her the love that he knew he would always feel for her but would likely never be able to put into words.

  What started out as a gentle rocking soon turned into a passionate back and forth as they lost themselves in one another and in the desire that overtook them.

  When Kyla cried out his name, Finlay was lost, and found his own release in time with her. He squeezed his eyes tight as sensations he never knew were possible rippled through him, until he finally collapsed on top of her, just managing to hold himself above her on his forearms. Taking a breath, he rolled to his side to take his weight off of her, keeping one arm clasped tightly around her waist. She turned over and snuggled up next to him, and he savored the feeling of her next to him. Holding her close, he soon fell into a content, dreamless sleep.

  13

  The next morning, Finlay woke to the knock on the door before Kyla did. He took a moment to look down at her, so content in her slumber, her blonde hair spread around her on the pillow giving her the look of an angel.

  He smiled as he eased himself out of bed so as not to wake her, wrapped a plaid around his waist, and pulled the door open a crack to see who was on the other side. He came nose-to-nose with his brother, whose sly grin was wide and laughing.

  “Finlay, you animal,” said Roderick, not seemingly to care who could hear him as he was apparently delighted to find his brother in Kyla’s room. “I went looking for you this morning,” he said. “Not finding you in your bedroom, your bed unmade, I was hoping to find you here. I am quite pleased about this turn of events. It’s about time—”

  “Quiet, Roderick, Kyla is still sleeping,” he said, shushing him. He didn’t need the entire castle knowing the two of them were holed up in her bedroom. Sure, they were husband and wife but it seemed all the family—and those who helped around the house—knew far too much of their business as it was.

  “Father wants to see you,” said Roderick, ignoring Finlay’s pleas. “It seems fairly urgent. He’s in his room waiting for you.”

  “Fine,” Finlay said. “I’ll meet him downstairs. Now, go.”

  Finlay let himself out of Kyla’s bedroom through the adjoining door, leaving it open so he could see his wife when she woke. He had dressed and readied for the day when he saw her lounging on the bed, her eyes open to the sun streaming in through the window.

  He wandered over and leaned against the doorway, studying her.

  “Good morning, wife,” he said with a smile.

  “Good morning yourself,” she said with a sleepy, satisfied grin.

  “It seems the Laird Duncan McDougall has summoned me to his chambers,” he said. “Otherwise I would be back in bed with you finding more ways for us to begin this day together.”

  “Don’t tempt me, Finlay,” she murmured, though she disappointed him by pulling the blanket up over her naked body. “Otherwise I may find myself not allowing you to leave here.”

  “’Tis a tempting thought. However, today is not the day to face Duncan’s wrath. Not to worry, though, lass. I shall return, as soon as I can.” He gave her one more appreciative look that made her turn bright pink, and then let himself out the door to find his father.

  Dun
can was sitting in the chair in the study with a serious expression on his face as Finlay walked in.

  “Good morning, Father,” Finlay said cautiously.

  “Good morning son,” he responded. “I trust you slept well last night?”

  There was a twinkle in his eye as he said it. Good Lord, even his father knew? Was nothing sacred around here?

  “Yes, Father,” Finlay said with a sigh.

  “Glad to hear it,” Duncan said, a large fist thumping against his desk. “Now sit and I’ll get right to it. There is something I have been wanting to speak to you about for some time. We both know how much responsibility you have taken on with our home and our lands in the past while. You also know that I no longer have much interest in the business side of things, and your mother would prefer to pick her herbs and fix her potions than spend her days managing the household. Now that you have a wife yourself, your mother and I have been speaking about the future.”

  Finlay raised his eyebrows. His father had aged some, yes, but he was not an old man by any means, and was certainly still capable of running the land and looking after their business interests.

  “I would like you to take over for me—officially,” he said, and Finlay’s eyes widened as he jerked his head back in surprise. “The McDougalls already see you as the man who looks after them, who fixes their problems and takes on the responsibility. Well, become Chieftain in name, son. Look after the people, take over the lands, do what you please. You know how I have protested the changes many others have made. Your wife has ideas from the MacTavishes. I know some of them are radical, but work with her, incorporate some of those new methods. It is time for you to take us to the next phase of business, to determine the best path forward.”

  Finlay was speechless for a moment as he took in all that his father had said. His father had never mentioned any of this before, and Finlay was unprepared for the offer.

  “Is this what you truly want, Father?” he finally asked. “I am happy to continue working with you, learning from you. I have appreciated all you have taught me, particularly in the past while Callum left for the Americas. I just… I do not know that I’m ready to take this on alone.”

  “That’s one thing about being a McDougall, son—you are never alone, even when ye wish you were. You will always have your brothers. You have your wife now, who has a good head on her shoulders. And I do not plan on going anywhere,” Duncan said with an easy smile. “Things are not like they used to be. A century ago, our entire way of life was changed, and it’s not getting any easier. I’m still stuck on the old ways, you know that, son. It’s time to look to the future. But never fear. I will continue to provide my counsel—likely whether you ask for it or not.”

  With that he laughed, and, not giving Finlay any opportunity to accept or reject his proposal, called the rest of the family in to share the news. Finlay slipped out for a moment. There was someone he wanted to speak with first, whose opinion had come to mean more than any others. He went upstairs to find his wife.

  “Kyla?” Finlay entered through his own room, walking over to the adjoining door, which was now open a crack, and knocked lightly. “Kyla?”

  “Come in,” she called. Regretfully the bed was now empty, the sheets still rumpled. Kyla was standing in front of the tall mirror, fastening her plaid—McDougall red, he noted with a grin of pride. As it should be. She met his eyes in the mirror and smiled at him. For a moment he could only stand and stare at her in silence. She was so beautiful, so utterly perfect. How had he ever deserved such a woman?

  When her brow began to furrow quizzically, he shook his head to bring himself back to the present moment.

  “Is everything all right?” she asked. “What did your father need so urgently?”

  Finlay stepped further into the room before taking a seat on the edge of the bed.

  Instead of answering her question, he looked around him at the small room. “You should really move into my room,” he said. “Make this a dressing chamber or something of the sort.”

  She nodded with a small smile. “I think that’s a fine idea,” she said, before crossing the room and sitting down next to him. “Now, what has you looking so distressed?”

  “I’m not distressed.”

  “Finlay.”

  “Very well. My father has asked me to be Chieftain—immediately.”

  Her eyes widened and her lips parted in surprise.

  “He what? Is he well?”

  Finlay nodded. “Yes, as far as I know. He thinks that to keep the clan happy, to move forward into the new times ahead, it would be better to have me lead now than in the future. He said he has lost interest in doing anything different, in making changes. He’s happy to provide counsel, but… the McDougalls are mine to lead.”

  He had been rather stunned since his father had told him and now, somehow saying the words made it all much more real. “It’s rather hard to believe, I know—”

  “Your father is a wise man,” Kyla said, reaching into his lap and taking one of his hands in hers. “You will do an admirable job of it, Finlay, I know you will.”

  “Yes, but—”

  “Besides,” she said with an enthusiastic smile, “we will be doing this together, will we not?”

  “I suppose we will,” he said, unsure whether he should be thankful or wary at the fact. He was pleased to have her support, but with Kyla he wasn’t entirely sure what that support would look like. Would she do as he said, or would she only support him if he did as she thought was right?

  “Oh, don’t look at me like that,” she said, apparently reading his mind as she lightly smacked him on the arm. “I know what you are thinking. And the answer is that it’s all about compromise, Finlay. How does that sound to you?”

  “Just wonderful,” he murmured, but as he followed her to the door, he wasn’t entirely sure how truthful his answer was. How many past McDougall chieftains had to compromise with their wives?

  Somehow he figured he was going to be the first.

  14

  Kyla watched Finlay carefully the following evening. He kept frowning at Roderick across the supper table. His brother was fidgeting, his face serious, his big body somewhat rigid. His countenance was not at all usual for the easy-going, affable McDougall. Finlay said nothing, just continued to eye him warily.

  “Finlay,” she whispered to him, his scent filling her when she leaned over his shoulder, and a thrill coursed through her at how much everything had changed over the past day. “What’s wrong?”

  The family stood and Finlay shook his head in confusion.

  “I’m not sure,” he muttered. “But there is something amiss with Roderick—and I have a feeling it’s not something that the rest of us are going to welcome. When Roderick isn’t himself, it’s never good.”

  Kyla nodded nervously. There was enough for all of them to deal with as it was. They certainly didn’t need any more bad news.

  They didn’t have long to wait for Roderick’s revelation—only until Duncan and Jane retired for the evening.

  The five of them, the siblings and Kyla, sat around the fire, staring at the flickering light, welcoming the warm embrace of the flames. Kyla had filtered out much of the chatter around her, and instead was musing about how she had begun to feel at home here. She quite liked the camaraderie the McDougalls shared. At Darfield, her father and brother always kept to their own interests, and after supper she typically spent her time alone in her bedroom, poring over the books and balancing ledgers.

  Here, there was a clear distinction between the work day and time for family. She loved it.

  Roderick stood up suddenly and paced back and forth a couple of times in front of the fireplace as the rest of them looked up at him, waiting for him to finally reveal what was on his mind. Anticipation lined his wide face.

  “I have a plan,” he finally announced, taking a seat in a hard wooden chair next to the fireplace, where he could see them all.

  “Oh?” Finlay cocked an eye
brow. Kyla knew that Finlay thought Roderick’s plans always spelled trouble.

  “We have ourselves in a mess here. It’s not just us either, but clan chieftains throughout the Highlands.”

  “Aye. That isn’t news.”

  “No. And it’s not fair,” Roderick said, passion bursting from him, and Kyla sensed he had been storing up this plea, whatever it was, for quite some time. “We’ve worked so hard. Father has spent his life trying to save our family. Now he’s passed it on to you to do so, Fin. We do all we can for this clan, and we get no thanks for it. Instead, we are questioned, berated, and forced to make new plans again and again. We’ve been so intent on saving ourselves, saving the crofters, saving our land, and we have not stopped to ask the obvious question. Why bother?”

  “Why bother?” Finlay, who had been slouched in his chair, straightened and leaned forward, elbows on his knees as he looked at his brother. “What do you mean, why bother? We bother because if we don’t, who else will? We bother because it’s our responsibility, our way of life!”

  “Aye, I knew you’d say that Fin, but here’s the thing—it doesn’t have to be this way!” Roderick said, splaying his hands out in front of him. “There is another answer, and it’s right in front of us. Gregor went west. Callum followed to find him and decided to stay because he fell in love. And it’s not just his wife that kept him there. It’s the land, the people, the way he makes his living. Why don’t we take the chance as well? Let’s sell this place, and leave the worry and the struggle behind. These lands can become someone else’s problem. Others have done it. The northern Campbells did. The Keiths did. Let us follow and make our way west, leaving all of this behind!”