“McDougall men? That is actually why I am here to talk to you. You see, Finlay—”
“No, not Finlay or his family. Some of their crofters, they seemed to hate me simply for the fact I was a MacTavish, despite the fact I don’t recall ever seeing them before in my life. They did, however, give me a message for you. They told you to never return. What did you do, Rory?”
“Nothing much, really,” he said, his eyes looking everywhere but her.
“Rory…”
“Fine!” He threw his hands up in the air and turned from her, his hands on his hips as he tilted his head back as though suddenly finding great interest in the leaves that covered them above. “We had a bit of a card game there the other night and…” he looked a mite sheepish.
“And what?”
“I may have cheated them out of a coin or two. It took them awhile to catch on to my ploy, but by the time they did I made sure I was halfway out the door.”
“Rory!” Kyla exclaimed, punching him on the shoulder hard enough that he winced. “What the devil is wrong with you? It’s not as if these men do not know who you are or where you live. They’ll seek retribution for that!”
He winced. “I was quite in my cups at the time so I didna much care,” he said. “Now, I just avoid them.”
“Oh, Rory,” she sighed, “will you never learn?”
“Likely not,” he said with his impish grin that always led her to forgive him, no matter what he had done. He walked toward her, pushing back his hair, as blond as her own. “Listen, Kyla… you understand, do you not, why Father has asked ye to marry Finlay McDougall?”
“Of course I understand,” she said, raising her arms beside her. “It’s as it’s always been—marry a McDougall, unite the clans, we all benefit from one another, everyone comes out ahead. Except me. I’m sorry, Rory, I’ve tried to do what everyone wants of me, tried to be accepting, but isn’t this too much? I don’t want to pity myself, but why has no one ever thought of what will happen to me in this situation? I’ll be left in a life of misery, trying to keep Finlay McDougall happy.”
“I understand, Ky,” he said, softening his words as he looked into her eyes. “Finlay’s not the friendliest of sorts. But the truth is, he’s not so bad. He would never do anything to hurt you, that’s for certain. He cares about his land and his people, though he needs help learning how to turn a profit. And maybe some help with some of his charm, but that can be worked on.”
“He’s so stubborn,” she said, making a fist as she turned from her perusal of the horizon. “He thinks he knows how to run his clan—how to run our clan. But the old ways aren’t necessarily the best ways anymore. I don’t want to have to submit to his will, to turn over the MacTavishes to their way of doing things.”
“Which is exactly why he needs us—needs you,” Rory said, looking at her in earnest. “You can show him the way. We both know you’re the one with the head for books between the two of us. You also know this land better than anyone. Fin’s tough on the edges, true, but he’ll soften, just you see.”
“Why are you pushing this, Rory?” she asked, eyeing him. Her brother was typically fairly uninterested in both business affairs as well her future, so she was perplexed as to why he was trying to sway her to her father’s way of thinking.
“Well…” he wouldn’t look her in the eye, but rather looked from side to side as if trying to find something to which he could fix his gaze to. “Kyla, this life here, ‘tis not for me. My life is in Glasgow, and London. You know how I love it there—the women and the parties and the gambling halls—I need this time to be free before I settle down, and if we were tied to the McDougalls, I would not have to worry so much about the clan and our business interests. The McDougalls could lend a hand while Father continues to manage things here until I’m ready.”
“Rory MacTavish, is all ye think of is yourself?” Kyla exclaimed with a glare.
“Kyla, ‘tis the same as you are doing, by not wanting to marry Finlay,” he replied, spreading his hands in defense.
“That is not true at all! Not agreeing to marry someone because ye want a happy life is much different than leaving behind all of your responsibilities to pursue women and gambling!”
“Oh, but Kyla, ye should see these casinos. They’re such fun. You should join me sometime. Have you heard of a game called whist? It’s—”
“Rory, I do not care about your games,” she said firmly.
Rory sighed. “I understand, sweet sister. You know how I am, though. It is not for me to look after these people. The thought of doing so incites an urge within me to run away as fast as I can, and I don’t even have any responsibility as of yet! It would be in all of our best interests if I had some time to… enjoy myself first.”
Kyla eyed him and his impish grin. She didn’t know why, but her brother, younger than she by only one year, had always managed to talk her into doing things she didn’t want to do. She had always had a maternal instinct when it came to him, and even now, now that they were much too old for her to have to do so, she still could not help herself.
“I’ll think on it,” she said, somewhat relenting.
Rory crowed and clapped his hands together. “Wonderful! I knew ye would, Kyla. I’ll tell Father right away.”
“Do not tell him I have agreed,” she bit out, pointing a finger at him. “I will agree to one thing only—I would like to meet with Finlay. I need to talk to him before I decide on anything else. If I do this—if I marry him—I have a few rules to set out for him first. Whether he chooses to accept them is up to him, and the consequence will be marriage to me—or not.”
Rory nodded, although he no longer looked quite so sure as he had been a few moments before, which made sense. They both knew Finlay was a stubborn sort.
Kyla could make all the demands of him that she wanted—but would he ever give in to them?
5
Kyla entered the great hall of the McDougall home, Galbury Castle, with some trepidation. It was called a castle, but she had always been of the opinion that it was fairly unimpressive, though large by the standards in these parts. The main hall was long and narrow, the McDougall plaid draped across the wall, with an impressive pair of interlocking swords that had likely been worn and used to defend and protect hundreds of years before facing down all who entered these great doors.
Peggy had opened the vestibule door for her, telling her that her brothers should be returning shortly. She had bestowed upon Kyla a mischievous grin before politely trying to extract more details of her reason for being there and what she thought of this potential marriage, but Peggy would not be receiving any information from Kyla. This was between her and Finlay, and no one else.
When Kyla had returned to the house following her conversation with Rory, she had kept her word to her brother and told her father that she would meet with Finlay, although she did not commit to a marriage to the man. Her father had smiled so smugly it made her want to extract her statement just to prove that she wouldn’t do exactly as she was bid.
He had wasted no time in sending word to Duncan McDougall, and now here she was. Her heart pounded in her chest as she prepared for the conversation that could change the rest of her life. Peggy led her into the drawing room, where she now sat on a large plush, though lumpy, sofa, waiting for Finlay to arrive.
In no time he strode through the doors, carrying with him recently plucked daisies from a nearby field.
“Here,” he said, shoving them into her hands, “for you. Roderick insisted.”
“Ye know, Finlay,” she said as she raised her eyebrow, staring at the stems now sitting in her outstretched fist. “It would far better serve you sometimes if perhaps you didna say anything at all.”
“Kyla, I—”
“Finlay, let me ask you the question,” she interrupted him. “Do ye wish to marry me?”
Of course he wished to marry her. He had wanted to his entire life.
“I will always do what is best for the clan,” he replied inst
ead, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning back against the wall, studying her to determine her own reaction to this decree to them both. He couldn’t sit. Not only was it not in his nature, but there was now too much in the air between them. “Do I believe a marriage between the two clans would best serve us all? Yes. And I always do what is best for the clan. But that being said, Kyla, I will not marry a woman who isn’t interested, who is unwilling to do so. If you don’t want this, well…I understand,” as much as it pained him to admit it. “I will only marry you if this is what you truly want. Which, I must say, I highly doubt.”
Finlay had thought long and hard about the plan to marry. While he did not want a loveless marriage in which Kyla would grow to resent him and her tie to him, ultimately the sacrifice they would both make would mean a better life for so many others. He would marry her—if she agreed on her own. Not her father, not her brother. Her.
Kyla stood and began to pace the room, her arms clasped in front of her. She rubbed them together, as if trying to ward off a chill. She circled the worn woven rug, not meeting Finlay’s eye.
“My father wants this, and my brother as well,” she said, as though she could read his thoughts. “I know you treat your people with respect and they love you for it, even forgive you for your… cold demeanor.” She seemed to be thinking aloud, talking herself into this or out of this, he wasn’t entirely sure. Finally, she stopped pacing and turned to look at him, her hands folded in front of her resolutely. “I will do this for the good of our families, but only on a few conditions. If—if we marry…” she wrung her hands together, looking somewhat anxious, as if she had just realized that this could actually occur, “I have some stipulations.”
He cocked an eyebrow at her words but nodded his assent for her to continue. This should be interesting.
“First. I will be seen as an equal partner to you. I am not to be ordered about as subservient to you. I have ideas, and I know I can help you in your management. Ye have to promise to, at the very least, listen to me and what I have to say, taking all that I have to say under consideration with as much seriousness as anything your brothers might say to you.”
He tipped his head to the side, not allowing any expression to cross his face as he studied her.
“What else?”
“If I decide I want to leave… ye must let me leave. I will stay married to you, but if I wish to return to my father’s home, ye must not fight me on it. I will try to live here with you, but if the time comes that I feel our marriage is no longer what I was hoping for, then I will go, and you cannot stop me.”
He listened as she spoke but remained unmoving. He wasn’t sure he would ever be able to bear the thought of her leaving him, but he wasn’t about to admit that to her.
“Lastly, I will not have… ah… marital relations with you until if, and when, I choose to do so.”
Her face turned pink as she blurted out the last sentence, but her chin was set stubbornly.
Finlay contemplated everything she had stipulated, crossing the room to look out the window on the land before them—land that he would do anything to protect. Finally, he turned around to respond to her.
He took a breath. “I agree to your last request. I will not force ye to do anything you do not wish to do. I would take no joy in that. As for the others… my mother does not much enjoy running the household. Would you be satisfied with taking on that responsibility?”
“I will help her with that, but no, I would not be satisfied with simply running a household. I would require more than that. If we are joining the clans together, I want a say in how they are run.”
“Why?” he asked, and she tilted her head to study him, as though she could read his mind if she tried hard enough. “Why do you want to do more when we have hands enough here to run things?”
“The same reason you do. I want to make a difference. I want to be part of something bigger than myself, to have a purpose to wake up in the morning and do something meaningful. Rory has no interest in looking after the MacTavishes, but I do. If that means I must marry you in order to help my family, to save my clan—to save both of our clans—then so be it.”
He thought on it for a moment, giving her a hard look, and then finally nodded. “I can understand that. Besides my father, I have the final say for the McDougalls, but I will promise to try to include ye in discussions.”
“You must also consider my thoughts.”
“I can promise to consider them. Is that good enough for you?”
“I suppose,” she said after thinking a moment. It was more than most men would do for a wife. “Depending on your answer to my second stipulation? That you must allow me to leave if I choose to do so?”
“No,” he replied, a tightness in his chest at the thought, “if you choose to marry me, you will be my wife and I expect to live that way. Once you go forward with this, there is no going back.”
“I willna agree to that.”
“Then don’t.”
They stared at one another for a few moments, each unrelenting. Finally, he felt himself breaking, needing to know what she was truly thinking. “Do you really believe it will be that bad to live with me?”
“I… I’m not sure.”
He tried not to allow the pain her words caused to show, and thought on it for a moment.
“Fine, Kyla,” he said with a sigh. “I will try my very best to be agreeable to live with. How about this. You must give me three months. No matter how you feel, ye must stay at least that long. Give me that much time to prove myself to you. Then you can do as you please and leave if you feel you have to.”
She looked out the same window he had been contemplating but moments before. After a few moments, she turned.
“Agreed.”
She walked over to him and stuck out her hand.
“Well, Finlay, is this a deal?”
6
Kyla stared at herself in the ornate circular mirror, raising her hands to attempt to pinch some color into her pale cheeks. She could hardly believe she was really doing this. She was marrying Finlay McDougall. It had been a few weeks since they had come to their terms of agreement, and she still didn’t know if she was doing the right thing.
This was for her clan, she reminded herself. The only problem was that the agreement was not just for today. An entire future together stretched out before them. Even if she chose to leave him, she would still be tied to him for the rest of her days.
A creak sounded behind her, and Kyla pasted a smile on her face as the door eased open to reveal Peggy.
“Oh, Kyla!” Peggy sighed as she entered the room and shut the door behind her. “I don’t think there has ever been such a beautiful bride as you!”
Kyla had to admit she did enjoy the way her mother’s wedding gown fit her so perfectly. The waves of lace cascaded from her shoulders, fitting tightly to her body before meeting the tartan skirt that draped over her hips to flow to the floor. Her hair had been pinned into an intricate knot on her head, to which Peggy had added daisies and lilies she’d collected from the fields. Her bouquet was a mix of the same flowers, with a sprig of white heather tucked in for luck.
“I canna wait for my own wedding day,” Peggy said wistfully. She was dressed in a beautiful blue silk gown, the bodice trimmed in lace and the McDougall tartan. “I shall be happy if I am half as beautiful as you.”
“You will be much more striking, Peggy, just you wait and see,” responded Kyla, her smile now true. The two of them were a few years apart, and while Peggy had seemed so young when they were children, they had become much closer over the past weeks as the families had prepared for the wedding and for Kyla to move into the McDougalls’ home. While all of the McDougalls were loyal and focused on their family and their clan, in other ways Peggy was everything Finlay was not—joyful, optimistic, full of laughter and merriment.
The two women now stood side by side in front of the mirror in the corner of Peggy’s room, sunlight streaming through the w
indow behind them. Kyla’s honey-colored hair contrasted with Peggy’s dark McDougall locks, Peggy tall and strong next to Kyla’s shorter, lithe body.
“Are you ready?” Peggy asked her, placing a hand on her shoulder.
“I hope so,” said Kyla with a brave smile.
In truth, she and Finlay had barely spoken over the past month. Now nerves fluttered in her stomach as she thought of tying her life to his.
Even Callum and his new wife had arrived to celebrate. She was a beauty, this British girl he had married out west, and had a spirit that matched Callum’s. Seeing them together, Kyla now understood the difference between the friendship she had with him and the love that radiated between him and his wife. She was truly happy that he had found his soulmate, even though it had taken traveling across the world for them to find one another.
Peggy helped her as they descended the winding staircase of the McDougall home, exiting to an empty yard. Most had already gone to the church. In addition to Peggy, only Niall and Rory remained, waiting for Kyla in the horse and cart.
“You are a beautiful bride, Kyla,” Niall said as he alighted from the top of the cart and bent to kiss her cheek in a rare show of affection. Rory winked at her and helped her up so the folds of her skirt didn’t get caught. “You actually look well, sister,” he said with a grin, dodging when she attempted to swat him.
Kyla twisted her fingers together around her bouquet throughout the entire ride to the outskirts of the village of Aldourie, where they alighted to join the rest of the wedding party, who would proceed together in the procession to the chapel.
Kyla’s eyes landed upon Finlay, waiting at the front of the procession. He cut a fine figure in the McDougall plaid, pulled around his muscular frame. She swallowed, surprised by the emotion that filled her upon looking at him. She had thought she would rue this day, that she would be tortured upon seeing the man she would be forced to take as a husband. But instead… she felt a pull of longing for him. She shook off the surprise of her own fickle emotions, finally allowing her gaze to meet his. His dark eyes were intent upon her face, his expression unreadable. He nodded to Kyla as Peggy joined him, taking his arm, and she looked away as Rory assisted her down and she took her place next to Adam.
Finlay's Duty: A Scottish Victorian Romance (The Victorian Highlanders Book 2) Page 4
