Rory turned to him. “Do you have anything else to say for yourself?”
“Simply that I… I’m sorry. I did something rash that I am truly sorry for.”
“My sister could die.”
“I have heard.”
“And yet you didna come forward and confess?”
“What was I to do?”
Rory pulled a knife out of his belt. “Do you wish to settle this like a real man now? Or would you like me to run as you throw rocks at me?”
The man’s shaking was in earnest now. “I have a family, Rory—”
“I’m to be your leader. Show me respect.”
As Finlay watched the play between them, the world slowed down. His mother’s words came back to him and he began thinking about Kyla. He thought of her light and life, the energy she saw the world in, and the peace she craved among all of the people of the clan and her family. Her father and brother had never been easy to get along with, yet she had managed to be the loving force in their lives for years. His mother was right. Kyla would not want this. She would want forgiveness.
“Stop.”
“What?” Rory asked, turning to him in astonishment.
“I said stop. This is doing nothing.”
“But Finlay—”
“Let the man go. Come. We must return.”
Rory looked at him reluctantly. Finlay spoke with conviction, and apparently his urgency finally got through to Rory. The MacTavish man took advantage of the opportunity and quickly retreated back into the cottage, bowing with thanks.
Something was pulling at Finlay to return. He didn’t know how he knew or what had changed, but he needed to get back home, and to Kyla. And he needed to do so now.
20
Finlay raced back to Galbury Castle as if it was on fire and only he could put it out.
“Finlay! What is your hurry?” huffed Rory as he struggled to keep up to him.
It was dark now, and branches slapped at them as they raced through the trees. Finlay could barely make out the breath of his horse in the cool night air as the quarter moon hung above them.
“We must return as soon as possible.”
“How do you know? Did you receive a message?”
“No. I just know.”
Rory was silent then as he followed Finlay through the trees and back to the McDougall home. As they entered the courtyard, Peggy came running out of the front door to meet them at the stable.
“Fin! She’s awake! Kyla woke up!”
Finlay’s head snapped up at her words. Thank God. He hadn’t known if the urgency that sent him racing home was a good sign or not, and he was nearly overcome at his sister’s news.
“How is she?” He managed. “Is she well?”
“She seems fine. Disoriented, thirsty. But I think she’ll be all right. Father has sent for the physician to return.”
As Rory shouted in triumph, Finlay simply nodded. A lump rose in throat, and he nearly doubled over in relief. He didn’t know how to react. He hadn’t known such a feeling could rise up in a person. In the same moment, he felt gratefulness, surrender, and complete and utter joy. The tears began to fall down his cheeks. He turned before Rory or Peggy could notice, and began leading his horse into the stable.
He wanted nothing more than to go in and to be with Kyla, but she couldn’t see him in his current condition. Finlay had never shown such emotion before, and he didn’t know how to allow it to surface. He could barely let it out alone, never mind in front of his family and the love of his life.
He followed Hurley into the stall and shut the door, sitting down with his back against the wall, and finally let everything release, his body shaking. All that had been welling up inside him for days now came pouring out. The man who had never cried since he was a young child sat in the straw with his head on his knees and sobbed.
* * *
Kyla’s eyes opened, taking in the room around her. It was her room at the McDougalls’. She had been sleeping in Finlay’s chamber for so many nights now, it took her a moment to realize where she was. In fact, everything seemed slightly fuzzy in front of her eyes.
She tried to move her head around the room, but the slightest motion made it pound, and it felt like a brick was weighing it down at the back.
Suddenly she felt a cool hand smoothing back the hair from her forehead. She groaned.
“Shush, love, no need to speak,” came a quiet, comforting voice. Jane, Finlay’s mother.
Kyla tried to ask what was happening, but all that came out was a croak from her throat, which was so dry she could hardly swallow.
Jane left her side for a moment, then returned with a glass of water in her hand. She put a gentle hand on the back of Kyla’s head, helping her tip it forward so she could swallow. Kyla only managed a couple of difficult sips, but after that felt much better.
She cleared her throat a couple of times before looking into Jane’s eyes.
“Finlay?” she asked.
“He’s—he’s coming, dear,” Jane said, her eyes not meeting Kyla’s.
What did that mean? Where was he? And what had happened?
Suddenly it all came rushing back at her. The chaos in her family’s courtyard, the men who had come after her, and mounting her horse to leave before she had seen the rock hurtling toward her head. She must have been hit and fallen. How had she come to be here?
“How…how long—?”
“A few days.”
“Days!” Kyla tried to exclaim, but she could barely form the word. No wonder she felt so weak. It likely had been that long since she had eaten or drank anything. She settled her head back against the pillow, her eyes closing of their own accord. As the world before her went black once more, the only thought that
