Kyla cringed when she thought of her family’s current position in comparison to many others in the nearby area. While many clans, like hers, were surviving by changing their methods to focus on the land and not the people, it was not an honorable way to live. She preferred the methods of clans like the McDougalls, not that her father would ever listen to her. He would allow her to do all the work required, but he wouldn’t take her opinions into account.
Duncan McDougall, while a tough, stubborn man who intimidated most, also loved his people, and he was proud of his family’s history protecting his clan. She knew they had no intention to erase that legacy today.
As much as she was relieved, it was to the detriment of the clans that they were no longer integrating. They could have mutually benefited from the strengths of one another.
There was nothing to be done now, she thought, as she felt the breeze through her long blonde hair. Instead, she would focus on the positives.
She was free.
2
A proud new papa greeted the brothers when the McDougalls turned toward Mack’s yard.
“Ah, all three of you! Come see these beauties!” Mack crowed, waving them in as they rode three abreast into his yard. “They came easy as can be and their mama is doin’ just fine. Now the one calf is strong and sure, though Betsy hasn’t quite taken to the little one yet. We’re workin’ on her, though.”
Finlay and his brothers dismounted and tied their horses to the fencepost before following Mack into his barn. Finlay’s eyes flickered around the building, noting everything. He noted boards that could use some repairs and resolved to return to fix them soon. Before he could make any further plans, however, he saw them—the twin calves, curled up next to their mother.
“Thanks for comin’, boys,” Mack continued. “Look at them. Are they not the finest little babes ye ever saw?”
The McDougall brothers showed their appreciation for the calves before Finlay got down to try to coax the little one to eat. The calf and Betsy didn’t seem much inclined to bond, and Finlay knew if they didn’t get him suckling, he’d soon starve.
“You two continue on,” he said to Adam and Roderick. “Mack and I will work on this one.”
His brothers nodded and resumed their visits with their crofters, as Finlay settled in for what he knew could be a stretch of time. He stroked the calf and worked him toward the udder as he simultaneously urged the mother to accept the little one. He and Mack spent the next couple of hours with the trio, until finally they were rewarded when the little calf started suckling. Finlay leaned back on his heels with a sense of relief, running a hand through his dark hair, brushing the straight locks back from his forehead.
He could sense Mack’s pleasure at the extra cow, an additional unexpected blessing. Finlay was pleased for him. It had been some time since fortune had smiled on Mack McDougall.
“If that would be all, Mack, I’d best continue on my way,” he said to the man, who smiled at him through a face that had seen many summers.
“Off to do your rounds, are ye, Finlay?” he asked. “I tell you, your pa may as well give you leave to run the place now. You practically do anyway, in all but title.”
“My father has some time left as chieftain, and he does a fine job of it,” said Finlay loyally, as he stood and brushed the straw from his kilt.
“I’m not saying he don’t,” said Mack. “All I’m telling you is the people know you and they trust you Finlay, and that’s saying a lot. I always liked Callum well enough, but… the boy always had too much adventure in him to do the job needed here.”
“I appreciate that, Mack,” he said, clapping a hand on the old man’s bony shoulder. “Truly.”
As Finlay mounted his horse and rode away from the barn toward the next crofter’s land to meet up with his brothers, he shook his head at Mack’s words. It wouldn’t do to have people thinking his father wasn’t up to the task at hand. For if Mack felt that way, then likely everyone else did as well.
What he was supposed to do about it, though, he had no idea.
* * *
Finlay chose the short route through the trees along the edge of the property that bordered the MacTavish holdings. Roderick was right—it was a fine day despite the slight chill in the air. The sun cut through the trees above him, sending rays of light through the turning leaves. It was still and quiet, just as Finlay liked it.
Part of being a member of the McDougall clan meant being continually surrounded by people, so Finlay was always grateful for rare moments of solitude.
Suddenly Hurley reared up, whinnying loudly. Finlay tightened his hands on the reins, calling out to the horse until he finally managed to regain control just in time to see a vision of white seemingly appear out of the air beside him.
Atop the majestic white mare sat the woman he had loved since childhood. Her blonde hair flowed down over her white linen shirt. The plaid she had thrown over her shoulders, likely for warmth, was now askew, hanging down over her saddle. Her face was flushed as she reined in and smiled, unsettling him.
“Kyla!” he barked before he could think better of it. “For the love of all that is holy, can you not slow down for a moment? Ye startled Hurley so much that he almost threw me.”
“Almost threw you?” she responded with a merry laugh, turning her horse alongside Finlay and Hurley, joining him despite the fact he hadn’t extended an invitation. “I thought you were a better horseman than that, Fin.”
“Don’t call me that,” he said, keeping his gaze ahead of him.
“My apologies,” she said stiffly, her
