The day of Finlay’s mother’s burial arrived. Finlay walked next to his brother as they headed up the hill to the keep where the women had prepared her body. His sire and Brodie Grant walked ahead of them. When they reached the keep, the women would release the body to the men, and the closest family would carry the body to the gravesite, finally putting Inga to rest.
His mind was numb.
As they moved along the path, others stepped out of their cottages to follow behind Inga’s family, offering their support by their presence. Others stood outside their homes with their heads bowed as they passed, their hands clasped in prayer.
He passed by a group of lads and heard, “Should have been home.”
Another whispered, “Shamed your family.”
Another: “Shame on Finlay. What kind of son leaves his mama when she’s so near to dying?”
The taunts continued as they moved along, but Finlay ignored them as best he could. He’d done what his mother had asked and his papa understood. The others’ opinions did not matter.
Or so he tried to tell himself.
“Go home.”
“Shameful.”
Fergus whispered furiously, “They’re right. You should have been here.”
The words hurt more coming from his brother, but he reassured himself that he did not need to explain his behavior to anyone.
“Just like his uncle.”
A few more comments about shaming were thrown his way before Brodie Grant spun around. He ushered the mourning family off to the side and then unsheathed his sword. “I’ve heard enough. Finlay has not shamed his family. Your taunting ends here, or you’ll meet me on the lists after the procession. Who is interested?” He turned from group to group, walking back down the path a ways to confront Finlay’s accusers, but no one spoke.
“I did not think so. Finlay’s behavior is acceptable to his father, to me, and to his lairds. So it is acceptable to all of you. The shaming ends here and now.” He sheathed his sword and returned to Nicol’s side, continuing along the path as if nothing had happened. The comments instantly stopped.
Finlay whispered, “My thanks, Uncle Brodie.” The laird’s brother had told him and Fergus to call him uncle long ago, which they had done gladly. They had almost made it to the keep when three others joined them, Brodie’s sons, Loki, Braden, and his grandson Kenzie. They fell in behind Finlay and Fergus.
Finlay couldn’t have been more pleased with this demonstration of solidarity.
He moved through the rest of the funeral as if he observed it from a distance, unable to believe that his mother was gone. He saw many faces, but they all melded together in his mind.
The only thing he could focus on was the endless chant in his mind. “Shameful, shameful, shameful…”
Even though Brodie Grant had put an end to the others’ taunting, it had moved into his own head. No matter what his mama had told him, he should have been there.
That thought stayed with him throughout the rest of the burial.
The men walked in silence to the Grant burial site, the women only following to the edge of the graveyard, where his mother’s body would be laid to rest in the clan graveyard. Father McKenny said beautiful prayers, and before Finlay knew it, they’d settled her body into the ground. When he glanced over his shoulder at one point, wanting the comfort of seeing Kyla, her gaze was on him. It looked like there were tears in her eyes, but she was too far away for him to know for sure. How he wished she was by his side, the way his parents had always stood together through life’s challenges…
He turned back to the proceedings and a lump caught in his throat.
His mother was gone for good.
***
The feast after the funeral had been good for Finlay, or so she thought. The foolish comments about shaming had ended.
She’d not heard any sly remarks about shaming, though she’d been told about how horrid their walk to the keep had been. The thought of forcing more distress onto a grieving family bothered her in so many ways that she would have been forced to address the situation. She was proud of Uncle Brodie for taking a stand against those bent on the foolish shaming, something mostly done by the elders.
The only thing that worried her was that the two brothers did not converse at all. While she’d wished to stand by Finlay’s side whenever possible, she’d decided it best to keep her distance. This was a time of respect for his dear mother, and there were many people who wished to show their support for him and his remaining family.
In truth, she also didn’t know how to approach him. Was he interested in her, or had he formed an attraction to her simply because he’d been forced to act as her protector? She didn’t know, though she hoped his feelings were true. The best practice for her was to tend to her own business and leave the next step to him. He was going through a most difficult time, and perhaps he needed to be alone for a while.
The following morn, Kyla caught up with Sorcha in the great hall. “Will you teach me to protect myself?” Her inability to defend herself was something that had weighed on her ever since the Buchan’s near attack…and she sensed the conflict with his clan was far from over.
Her cousin gave her a knowing look. “How soon do you need to be able to protect yourself?”
“Soon,” she whispered. “And I have another question for you.” She glanced around to make sure no one was eavesdropping. “When did you know Cailean was the one?”
Sorcha quirked her brow at her cousin, a small smile on her face. “Finlay, aye?”
Kyla put her hand over Sorcha’s mouth. “Hush. I’m not sure yet. But there’s something there.”
Sorcha giggled. “You’ve kissed him, aye? ‘Tis one way you’ll know for sure. If his kisses are better than any other lad’s. How are they?”
She blushed. “Pretty nice. But there must have been more to it. How did you know how he felt about you?”
“That part was easy. It’s the way he looks at you. When he acts like no one is around but you, and you don’t care if anyone else is around, then you know ‘tis right.”
She considered her cousin’s advice, then said, “Nay, not yet.”
Sorcha tipped her head, a knowing look on her face. “Must be you’re on your way to falling—”
“I have more important things to discuss,” Kyla said, cutting her off. “Back to protection.”
“So who do you need to protect yourself against?”
“I’m not sure. I just felt so vulnerable at Buchan Castle. I would have felt so much better if I hadn’t needed to depend on a man for protection once we were inside.”
“Then a bow and arrow is not what you need and ‘tis the only skill I can teach you. Maggie is the one you want.” Sorcha beckoned to her sister in the crowded hall.
Maggie came over and plopped down on the bench across from them. “What is it?” Her gaze shifted expectantly between the two of them.
Sorcha whispered, “Kyla wants to learn how to protect herself.”
Maggie smirked. “You’ve come to the right person.”
“I have?” Kyla quirked her brows at her cousins. She’d never heard of Maggie doing harm to anyone.
Sorcha giggled, covering her mouth. “My sister has a dead eye with a dagger, but no one knows except for Bethia and me.”
“Who taught you?”
Maggie said, “Well, my mama taught me long ago, but she doesn’t know how skilled I’ve become.”
“Can you teach me? Can I learn to hit a man a distance away in a short time?”
Maggie tipped her head and thought for a moment. “I may not be able to teach you to kill with one dagger, but you’ll be able to injure a man enough to stop him in his tracks so you can get away or hurt him more.”
Kyla dropped her voice. “And will you teach me how to hurt him more?”
“I will.” Maggie’s gaze never faltered, her expression unreadable.
A chill ran down the back of her neck. Kyla stared at her cousin as though she’d never met her before. Where had this person come from? She knew Molly and Maggie had come from an abusive background, but how bad had her life been? From the expression in her gaze, Kyla guessed it had been quite bad indeed.
“Will you help me?” she finally asked.
“Find yourself a good dagger. You need your own, one you can tuck into the folds of your skirts. I sew pockets in every garment I own and have bands around my ankles. Sometimes I carry three daggers. Sorcha and I can help you with that.”
Kyla jumped out of her seat, intent on her mission. “I know just where to get one. Meet me behind the stables in an hour.”
“Where are you going?” Sorcha asked.
“To find Kenzie. He’s often practicing with daggers.” She smiled, spun on her heel, and ran out the door.
She found Kenzie in the stables, rubbing down his sire’s horses. “Kenzie, I need your help.”
He immediately hustled to her side. “What do you need?”
“I need a dagger.”
“For what? Who do you wish to use it on?” Kenzie’s eyes were the size of big gold coins.
“I just wish to become skilled in protecting myself. ‘Tis all I want, Kenzie. Will you help me?”
He giggled. “I’ll show you my special supply.” Kenzie ran down the passageway in the stables to the ladder and then scrambled up to the loft. He stopped on the top step, turned and beckoned to her. “Come with me.”
It was easier for someone Kenzie’s size to navigate the loft, but Kyla managed to walk around the mounds of straw and follow the lad to a small cupboard built into the wall. He carefully removed a long box from inside. As soon as he removed the cover, his eyes lit up. “You see? I have many. You may choose any of them except this one, my favorite.”
“Where did you get these? Why must you keep so many?” She stared at the multitude of blades—long, short, thick, thin.
“For protection. If someone leaves one behind, I claim it. Someday I may be like my sire and need one to use against the Norse.” His eyes danced with excitement. “Choose your weapon.”
She looked inside and fingered one with a red handle. “What about this one? May I have it?”
Kenzie held her hand up, placing the dagger next to her palm. “Looks about the right size. ‘Tis my gift to you if you take me along with you to practice.”
“All right. I’m meeting Maggie shortly behind the stables. Then we’ll go into the gardens to practice. No one will see us there.”
“I’m quite skilled, too, if you must know. I’m not just good with my slinger.”
“Kenzie, you have more skills than most grown men. I’ve no doubt you’re great with your dagger. Will you help me?”
His chest puffed out a bit. “Of course. I’d be pleased to help you. Just let me hide my stash.” Kenzie replaced the cover and carefully returned it to the cupboard, hidden from prying eyes.
“Why do you not take that home with you?”
He laughed. “I have one at home, too. One never knows when you’ll need a weapon.”
She couldn’t help but smile back at him. “Come, let’s find Maggie.”
A few minutes later, the three of them were headed to the trees behind the gardens, Kenzie peppering the two of them with questions along the way. He was a most talkative lad.
“Who taught you how to use a dagger?” he asked Maggie. “Do you think you are better than me? Can you teach Kyla? She’s never thrown one before. I have, many times. We can see who’s the best among the three of us when we’re done. Will you teach me more, too, Maggie?”
As soon as they found the perfect spot, Maggie turned to Kenzie. “Now you must listen carefully to my instructions.”
A few hours later, Kyla stood poised in front of a line of three daggers set on the tree stump next to her. Kenzie yelled, “There’s one in the oak.”
Kyla flung her dagger and it landed with a thwack in the middle of the tree’s trunk.
“There’s one in the pine tree.”
She winged another one and hit the pine square.
“Look out. He’s coming from the ash tree to your left.”
Another shot caught the edge of the tree. “Oh, I almost missed that one.”
Maggie smiled. “Kyla, you are an excellent student. I can’t believe how well you’ve done in such a short time.”
Kenzie bolted across the grass, retrieving her daggers for her. “You’re not as good as me yet…is she, Maggie? But you’re pretty good.”
A moment later, a voice carried across the courtyard. “Kenzie! Where the hell are you?”
“Och, ‘tis my sire.” He handed the daggers over to Kyla and ran off. “Coming, Papa.”
Loki appeared behind them, Kenzie in tow, and asked, “What are you two doing?”
“Naught. Just chatting. We were tired of being inside,” Maggie replied, staring at a hangnail on her finger.
“Hmmph. Why do I not believe you? Never mind. Just make sure you stay inside the curtain wall.” He left as quickly as he’d arrived.
Kyla hugged her cousin and said, “My thanks. I feel much more confident.”
“Now, be honest,” Maggie said. “Who inspired you to learn this new skill?”
“Promise not to tell?”
Maggie nodded.
“Simon de La Porte.”
***
Finlay strode into his cottage after dark. Their clan had brought plenty of food for them, so he suspected his sire would be at home rather than at the keep. Fergus stood from the table as soon as he entered. His sire stayed seated.
“Where’ve you been?”
“Thinking.” He made his way to the pot on the hearth and filled a bowl with mutton stew.
“About what? How much you’ve shamed us?”
“Fergus, do not start that again,” their sire said, his voice weary.
“Why, Papa? ‘Tis the truth. Everyone is saying it except you and Uncle Brodie. The men in the lists are all saying he should have stayed home. I think I deserve an answer. Papa and I both told you to stay. You agreed you would, and then you left. Just like that.”
“An answer to what?” Finlay strode over until his face was no more than a nose length away from his brother’s. Finlay was the taller of the two, though he was a year younger than Fergus. He was also stronger. He could take his brother easily if he wanted to fight.
Finlay was ready for a fight. Part of him was desperate for one.
“Why you walked out on us. Do you not think we could have used you here when she passed? Do you not think it was tough on us when she did not awaken? ‘Twas just Papa and me. Everyone else stayed away except the healers.”
“I don’t need to explain aught to you. I had my reasons.”
“What could be more important than your own mother? Were you chasing after Kyla?”
The words sent a shock through his system. What did Fergus know about his interest in Kyla? “I didn’t know she would be on the journey when I left. It had naught to do with her.”
“You’ve been sniffing around her skirts lately. What makes you think you’re good enough for the laird’s daughter?”
Finlay grabbed his brother by the neck and threw him against the wall, pinning him there. “You’ll not talk about her that way. Do you hear me? I’m allowed to talk to her as a Grant warrior and that’s all there is to it.”
Finlay had his arm against his brother’s windpipe.
“She’s the reason, is she not? You want her,” he wheezed fiercely, unrelenting. “You forgot about Mama because of Kyla.”
Their sire charged at the two of them, pulling them apart. “I’ve heard enough from both of you. If there’s one thing your mama would want it would be for all of us to get along.”
Fergus rubbed his throat. “Except Finlay is an embarrassment.”
“Hellfire, I’m not. I did what I had to do.”
His father stood back and said, “Finlay, tell your brother.”
“Tell me what? I’ll tell you what else I know. After you left, one of the last things that Mama said was ‘Where’s Finlay?’ How do you think it felt for me to have to break her heart and tell her you’d left Grant land?”
“Papa, he can believe what he wishes,” Finlay said. He didn’t wish to defend himself to his own brother, someone he had believed would be on his side no matter what. He’d made a promise to his mother and he’d keep it.
“Fine. I’ll tell him,” his sire yelled, finally losing his temper. “Finlay left because your mama told him to go.”
Finlay moved back to the table, grabbing his bowl of stew. Forcing himself to act like his brother’s reaction didn’t matter to him.
Fergus stared at their sire, a look of disbelief on his face. “She what?”
Their sire took a deep breath before answering. “She told Finlay to go. She made him promise.”
“Why would she do that?” He glanced at Finlay. “If ‘tis true, you have my apologies. I just cannot understand why she would have said that.”
“She told me so herself,” their father said. “Now, let there be an end to the tension between the two of you. There is to be no shaming in this household or anywhere.”
“I’m sorry,” Fergus said, trying to meet his gaze. “I’ll be certain to tell the others.”
Finlay finished his stew and cleaned his bowl before he brushed past his brother and said, “Don’t bother. I can see it will trouble you too much. You prefer to think the worst of me.” He strode out of the cottage and never looked back.
He had to get away.
He hadn’t gone far when Brodie’s son Braden caught up with him. He was with Braden’s cousin Roddy. “Finlay, we have a proposal for you.”
“Have I shamed you, too?” he snapped.
“What?” Braden asked. “Nay. Do not be foolish. I know you’re grieving. Your brother is taking this hard, aye, but none of us fault you for leaving.”
“What is it?” he asked wearily. “I need some time to myself.”
“Molly and Tormod returned from Edinburgh. They couldn’t locate our king, and Molly’s headaches became so bad that Tormod made her come home. Uncle Logan is hoping she’ll have one of her visions, but she hasn’t had one yet. They didn’t get much opportunity to search for the mercenaries. We’ve decided to make our own group of guards and travel to Edinburgh. See what we uncover about Buchan.”
“On your own or does Logan know?”
“He’s given us his support, and plans to meet us there as soon as he takes care of some business he would not explain. You know how he just leaves and scouts, never discussing his destination. We received a message from Uncle Micheil that he and his son are heading to Edinburgh and would like to see us. Going to see what they can learn. Uncle Logan made us promise to meet Uncle Micheil, ‘tis his condition for allowing us to go. Gavin and Gregor wish to go with us.” Gavin was Logan Ramsay’s only son, and Gregor was his cousin and age mate.
He leveled a steady look at Braden. “So you, Roddy, Gavin, Gregor are all going? What about Connor?”
“Aye, so long as his sire approves. Jamie will stay back. We were hoping you would join us since you know more about Buchan castle than the rest of us.”
Finlay rubbed his chin. He did need to get away from the weight of everything. From the dirty looks people were giving him. From the whispers behind his back, especially the ones spoken by his own brother. He’d have to find a way to see Kyla before he left, let her know why he was going.
On the other hand, perhaps if they uncovered something important, he’d gain some respect from Kyla’s father. It was definitely worth a try. He’d be traveling with her cousins and brother.
“All right, if Jamie agrees, I’ll go. When do you leave?”
“On the morrow, mid-morning. Meeting with Uncle Logan and Uncle Alex first.”
“I’ll be there.”
Mayhap he’d travel with them and stay in Edinburgh. In fact, he wondered if that was where his shamed uncle lived now. Mayhap he’d pay the man a visit.