“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.
Duncan 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
