“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.
“Your father believes my experience can be of help, and—”
“I dinna care what my father believes would be useful,” he said, fire in his dark grey eyes as they narrowed at her. “I have no need to learn the MacTavish way of doing things. We have seen how well the people respond to those methods.”
“For the love of all that is holy,” she said in exasperation, raising her hands in the air before letting them slap back down against her legs as she finally gave up, letting him walk ahead of her as her eyes bore a hole in his back.
She heard a footstep behind her and turned to see Adam coming up the walkway, joining her as she stared after his brother.
“Never mind Finlay’s moods,” he said, clearly sensing the tension between them, though the sentiment seemed forced. “’Tis just his way. Take no offence by it.”
“His moods are one thing,” she muttered as she crossed her arms over her chest. “His unreasonableness is another. Does he never listen?”
“No,” Adam said with a chuckle, “never.”
* * *
Kyla was determined not to let go of her ideas. The McDougalls had wanted to unite the clans to create a better future for all of them, and that’s what she was going to do.
“Duncan,” she said that night, as the seven of them sat around the table in the dining hall, “I have an idea.”
Finlay shot her a warning glance. “Kyla, I—”
“Let her speak, son,” his father interrupted him. “I’d like to hear what she has to say.”
“I’ve been thinking about the layout of the lands,” she said, before proceeding to describe her thoughts on how to better maximize the land for more ease of access to the fields, while moving the families closer to one another and the common grazing land.
Duncan listened to her, contemplating her words while Finlay sat in stony silence.
“I like it,” he said after an anxious few moments, “’tis worth a try, tis it not?”
“Is that not what we have been trying to avoid, Father?” Finlay interjected. “Raising the ire of our clansmen?”
“I understand what you are saying, Finlay, but we also must be able to turn a profit, or there will be nothing left for any of us,” he responded. “Perhaps we need to try this and see what comes of it.”
“I’m not suggesting we move the families to lesser lands,” Kyla said urgently. “Simply different land. Then it would allow all better access to the fields and would make it easier to plant and harvest.”
Adam looked impressed with her suggestion, while Roderick winked at her and Peggy gave her a reassuring nod. Even Jane smiled at her with affection. Only Finlay looked unconvinced.
“Finlay,” Duncan said, “what say you? Should we consider this further tomorrow?”
“Tomorrow? Do ye not think we need more time to review, to talk to our clansman, to—”
“We’ll simply discuss it tomorrow, Finlay,” Duncan said, holding up a hand to stop his son’s flow of words. “But soon it will be time for action. This is why we have joined the clans, to incorporate some of their ideas. Let’s attempt this.”
Finlay stewed throughout the rest of the supper, not saying another word. When they rose from the table, he muttered an “Excuse me” and headed for the stairs leading to his chamber.
Kyla knew she should sit down with his family, speak to the reasonable McDougalls to further the plans. But this had gone on long enough. The man was her husband, and, like it or not, he was going to have to compromise in some situations. Feeling the eyes of his family watching her, she started up the stairs after him, seeking out one room she had yet to enter—his bedchamber.
She opened the door without knocking to find him sprawled out on the bed, clad only in his short kilt, his arms crossed behind his head as he stared at the ceiling, apparently deep in thought.
“Finlay—”
He said nothing as he pushed himself off the bed, crossed to the door and pulled her in, slamming it shut behind her.
9
Kyla was completely caught off guard.
“Finlay, what in the—”
He silenced her by pulling her close and crushing his lips upon her. She sensed that all he had never put into words—his frustrations, his passion, his yearnings—he was pouring out into the kiss. As his lips slanted down on hers and his strong fingertips kneaded into her back, she was shocked by the intensity of his passion. She would never have guessed that he had wanted her, and even now she wondered how much of his kiss and his embrace was because he desired her, or because he wanted her to agree with him outside of this bedroom.
She should push him away and determine what this meant. Why he was doing this, what he wanted from her. This certainly had not been part of their deal.
But all rational thoughts fled when the coil of desire whipped through her, striking every part of her body as he kissed her relentlessly.
Kyla shocked herself by kissing him back with equal measure. Her hands crept up the hard planes of his bare chest, sliding around his neck and into the dark silk of his hair. He was a beautiful
