Experience told him Finley spoke as a chief, not as a father. ‘If you want to know if I regret marrying Ailsa, I don’t.’
Finley nodded. ‘Your wife is nothing like your mother, though I never suspected you’d end with a gentle soul. I didn’t know one such as she existed for you.’
At the truth of Finley’s words, Rory let out the breath he’d been holding since the door closed. ‘She’s surprising.’
His father made some sound like a chuckle or agreement and Rory felt the need to sit. This was the most he’d ever talked to his father. The times before that, when they had conversed, it had usually been about how he’d failed at matters of politics and training. But his wife...he didn’t intend to fail her.
‘I am well wed.’
‘Marriage isn’t easy,’ Finley said, flourishing the goblet at him, ‘and you have no training.’
‘She’ll teach me soon enough...just as Mother has taught you.’
Definitely a laugh from his father now. Rory pulled out a too-small chair from the even smaller table and rejected both. It was probably better to stand on unsteady legs.
Finley tipped back his cup. ‘Marriage often requires unexpected sacrifices. Compromises that you can’t conceive of ever making, but are the right decision for your wife. For you. Yet, sometimes I’ve wondered if the decisions we made were the right decisions for everyone else.’
‘Maybe I will have that drink.’ Striding to the side table, Rory swiped the flagon of ale and poured it. He understood sacrifice and compromise. He’d negotiated everything the moment he met Ailsa. What he didn’t understand was this conversation with Finley. Once the goblet was clasped tight in his fist, he leaned against the nearest wall.
Finley pointed at him. ‘You always did that as a child.’
‘Did what?’
‘Lean or slouch against walls. Never could understand if you were simply trying to intimidate your friends who weren’t as tall as you or—’
‘The furniture in this house never fit me.’
Finley’s brows suddenly dropped and Rory wanted to take back the words.
If he desired to announce that he didn’tbelong here, he couldn’t have said it any clearer. The chairs didn’t fit him here because his body wasn’t like the other Lochmores. It was the truth, but why at a time of truce like this, did he have to reveal it? He couldn’t even blame the extra ale since he hadn’t taken a sip.
‘You never said,’ Finley said.
He still wasn’t saying. At least not what he truly meant because he hadn’t gained the benefit of his wife’s blunt tongue. However, he had gained his wife’s company and was beginning to understand a different way of looking at the things around him.
Maybe that was why after he’d come through the gates of Lochmore Castle, he’d forced himself to see his home differently, or maybe it was because his mother presented the family brooches. Maybe...just maybe...he’d listened enough to Ailsa’s healing words and deeds.
Because instead of his first reaction, that of blame or of pointing out all the times he’d wished Finley had given him guidance, he found himself wanting to ease his father’s frowns.
‘It never seemed important,’ Rory said. ‘For the most part it suited me fine.’ Relaxing against the wall, Rory realised the truth of those words. Growing up, he’d known no different than small chairs and smaller beds. It was only now hethought of changing things, of making his life different.
‘When you get to my age, you realise what’s important.’ Finley set down his goblet. ‘I was gone for many months during the time you were born. Such a surprise upon my return. Such...joy upon your mother’s face. From that moment on, I wanted life here at Lochmore to be more than fine. I wanted everything for you and so I made you my own. Do you understand me?’
Rory shook his head, knowing he couldn’t be hearing this conversation correctly.
‘Truly? Even after you gathered the family cartularies and read them in the crypt? Even though you’ve been to McCrieff land, met McCrieffs?’
Shock had Rory bracing hard against the wall. His father, Finley, was telling him he knew he wasn’t his father. That sacrifices and compromises were made.
‘You need to know that your mother and I only ever wanted what was best for you,’ Finley continued. ‘One of my favourite memories was when you refused that vile green broth your mother kept trying to get you to drink. No matter what she did, every time she held the cup to you, you knocked it out of her hands. You werestubborn and fierce from the very beginning, just like us.
‘From your expression, you’re probably wondering how I noticed these things since I was never around.’
Rory cleared his throat. ‘You are Lochmore’s Chief and have many responsibilities.’
Finley made some non-committal sound. ‘I raised you as my father did me. His...harshness suitedmefine. Made me strong enough to support and care for this clan and your mother. So when I became a father, I did the same to you.’
All those years ignored with no praise and only criticism. ‘I thought—’
