“What do I do?” he muttered, before sitting up and looking first at one of his brothers and then the other.
“What do I do?” he repeated.
Roderick and Adam shared a worried look. Finlay knew they likely had no idea what to do with him. It wasn’t like him to show much emotion, besides when he gave in to anger from time to time. Otherwise, he remained fairly stoic, a fact he prided himself upon.
“It’s not like you to ask us what to do, Fin,” Roderick said, trouble in his eyes.
Adam shot him a look before returning to Finlay.
“I dinna think there’s much you can do,” said Adam, kindness in his voice, and for a moment Finlay nearly allowed anger to rise—anger that his brother was so pitying him. But he had no emotion left for it. “Why don’t we get Mother?”
He left the room, Roderick close behind him. Finlay barely noticed they were gone, until he felt a gentle hand on his shoulder.
“I’m here, darling.”
He turned, seeing her, and rose. For the first time in nearly twenty years, he put his head on his mother’s shoulder and let her comfort him. Her soft yet strong hands patted his back as though he were still a child, and he couldn’t remember a time he had been more grateful for her presence.
“I dinna know what I’m to do,” he finally said into her shoulder.
She leaned back and set a cool hand upon his face as she looked up at him.
“Sometimes, Finlay, there is nothing you can do but say a prayer and trust in the Lord,” she said with quiet resolve. “Kyla is a strong woman. She’ll fight this and come back to you. Now you must be strong for her.”
He nodded, not quite agreeing but understanding. His mother led him to the bed and sat him down beside Kyla’s prostrate form.
“All you can do is be here so that when she wakes, she sees you,” his mother said, holding his hand as she sat with him and the woman he loved.
The woman he loved—yet he had never told her. He had been too much of a coward. Instead, he had thought it was enough to try to show her that he loved her, when he made love to her gently, softly as he had in the forest. He had given more of himself to her than he had ever given anyone, yet he had never found the words to tell her how he truly felt. He was too proud. He knew she didn’t love him. She had made it clear when they married that he wasn’t the type of man she could ever love. She had come to want him, yes, that much was apparent. But that was quite different than loving someone.
Did it matter, though? Could his love be enough for the both of them?
Hours later, he had finally fallen into a fitful sleep, lying beside her on the bed. He was startled awake by an insistent knocking on the door. Groggy, he rolled off the bed and opened it.
When he came face to face with Niall and Rory on the other side, he slammed the door back in their faces. They knocked again, more insistently this time.
“Open this door up, right now, Finlay McDougall!” the roar came from the other side. He continued to stand immobile, stubborn, arms crossed over the chest as he glared at the door.
“Give me one good reason why,” he ground out.
“Because we are her family!”
“I am her family now.”
“She may be a McDougall in name, but she shall always be a MacTavish!”
After a few more minutes of listening to Niall bellow away in the hallway, Finlay finally emitted a heavy sigh and let them in, realizing they weren’t going to go away and all they were accomplishing was likely aggravating his family.
They entered the room without a glance toward him and stood beside the bed, gazing down at Kyla. He wanted to question them and the actions that had led to this, though he knew in this moment he should leave them be, as they were hurting as well, though he didn’t see how it could be possible for anyone else to be suffering as he currently was. He hoped they felt the pain. They were the cause of this, why this had happened in the first place.
Finally, they turned and looked at him, asking what could be done.
“The doctor said to pray,” he replied quietly. “Can we step outside to talk further?”
He ushered them out the door, but didn’t go any further than down the hallway, as he wanted to stay close by in case Kyla woke and needed him.
“What were you thinking?” he said angrily, allowing all his pent-up frustrations to rush out. “Inciting your people and then both of you leaving like that? What did you expect was going to happen in your absence?”
“It was not planned,” said Niall dryly with a glance toward his son. Rory looked sheepish, staring at the floor.
“Circumstances arose in Glasgow—” he mumbled.
“Circumstances?” Finlay cut in. He felt like he was lecturing a child, despite the fact that Rory was only a few years younger than he was. “The only circumstance was your stupidity, gambling and carousing south while you were needed here at home.” He looked to Niall. “You should have left him in the Glasgow prison he was being kept in.”
“Now Finlay, that’s a bit harsh,” said Rory, holding up a finger. “It’s not like I thought anything would ever happen to Kyla because of it.”
“When you act as you do, bad things happen, whether you plan them or not,” said Finlay, advancing toward him, but he was stopped by Niall, who stepped between them.
“Enough of this,” said the older MacTavish. “What do we do now?”
“Now,” said Finlay, “We wait.”
* * *
For two days, Finlay stayed by her side. Adam moved an old mattress into the room so that Finlay could sleep on the floor, though usually he would move into
