“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 you 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
