This morning, Peggy was there waiting for her, a grin on her face.
“Good morning!” she chirped. “Tell me, what happened last night?
“Whatever do you mean?” Kyla asked, feigning innocence.
“Between you and Finlay of course!” Peggy responded eagerly. “Roderick said—”
“Peggy, that is enough,” Jane said as she walked into the room, cutting off her daughter. “Kyla has nothing to explain to you and Roderick shouldn’t be talking of such. Kyla and Finlay are married and this is between the two of them.”
“But Mother—”
“No protesting, darling,” Jane said, silencing her as she sat between them. “Now Kyla, lass, what are you planning for today?”
“I was considering a visit to my father and brother,” she responded, grateful for Jane’s timely entrance.
“Ah, lovely,” she said. “Do send my regards.”
“May I come with you, Kyla?” asked Peggy.
“I’m not sure Kyla invited you,” said Jane as she poured tea for the three of them.
“Of course, Peggy, you’re welcome to come.” Kyla smiled at her. Peggy was not much younger than Kyla herself, yet at times Kyla often had the sense she was significantly older than the other girl. Perhaps it was due to the presence of Jane in Peggy’s life—having a doting mother meant Peggy hadn’t had to grow up quite as quickly as Kyla had.
They finished breakfast and prepared for the ride ahead, saddling up their horses and riding out of the courtyard. It was a longer journey with Peggy—she was a rather poor rider, despite the McDougall riding prowess—accompanying her, but much more entertaining.
The MacTavish land was quiet when they arrived. The tiny cluster of cottages to where most of the crofters had been relocated was not much to speak of, as many of the clan members had left for the Americas or south to Glasgow, Edinburgh, or to another European country. Kyla knew those that remained resented her family for the choices they had made. For the most part, those that stayed desperately fished or kelped for income.
She understood why her father made the decisions he had, although she thought they could have been acted upon with more tact and forethought. She could admit that he hadn’t been much concerned for the outcome of his crofters, and had ignored any of her suggestions concerning them. Instead, he had basically cleared the land as he saw fit.
Her brother must have seen the two of them coming, for when they arrived at Darfield Keep, Rory exited the castle doors, coming to help them from their horses and enveloping Kyla in a hug.
“Ah, Peggy McDougall,” he said as he turned to the girl. Her cheeks blushed a deep pink, and Kyla suddenly realized why Peggy had been so keen on accompanying her.
“Rory,” Peggy said, dipping her head but saying nothing more, which was uncommon for Peggy.
“Well,” said Kyla, breaking the silence that stretched between the three of them. “How are things, Rory? Are you surviving without me?”
“Barely,” he laughed. “I dinna think Father quite realized how much you took care of around here. He may be coming to regret marrying you off to the McDougall. Come, it’s near enough to dinner for you to eat with us. Father has hired a woman from the village to take care of the food preparation. She is quite the cook—perhaps I’ll marry her myself to keep my stomach content.”
Seeing Peggy’s eyes widen, he laughed.
“’Tis a joke,” he said. “Mrs. MacLaughlan is fifty, to be sure.”
Rory entertained them through the meal, reveling in the audience Peggy provided him as he told stories of the parties and casinos in London and Glasgow where he had recently visited, and of the noble lords and ladies and their indiscretions, who entertained him despite the way they looked down their noses at the likes of him, a Highlander.
It was what Rory was good at, Kyla thought as she smiled to herself. Charming the ladies and telling stories. Unfortunately, it was not much of a money-making skill, particularly when it came to their lands. Though, she admitted, he was enticing people to visit their woodlands to hunt. She just wasn’t sure if she welcomed the practice.
One thing was certain—Rory would have to soon learn how to take his energies from the parties and the women of the south and transfer them to prospering here, as her father’s interest in the responsibility for their lands continued to wane.
“Where is Father today?” she asked him when they had finished the meal, which was every bit as good as Rory had promised.
“He’s reviewing the ledgers,” said Rory. “It’s been some time since he has had to do so as you were so adept at it, Kyla. I know you explained them some before you left, but you began a new system and Father cannot quite seem to follow it.”
“You were to help him, Rory,” Kyla said, exasperation overcoming her. She had done all possible to prepare her father and brother but, apparently, it hadn’t been enough.
“Ach, he does not need my help, he’ll learn it soon enough,” Rory said, causing Kyla to drop her head into her hands. “Now Peggy, have you ever been to a masquerade? No? Well, let me tell you—”
As he launched into his next tale, Kyla excused herself and went to find her father.
Niall was holed up in his study, books and papers scattered around him, ink spilled on the desk beside his elbow. It looked as if he had made a half-hearted attempt to clean it up, but he had left most of it dripping off the counter and onto the floor.
“Father?” Kyla knocked on the open door and stepped over the threshold and into the room.
“Kyla! I dinna believe I’ve ever been more pleased to see you,” he said, although his tone was not welcoming but
