Chapter 19
FINN
The Crisis Meeting
(Or How the Highland Games Suddenly Became Personal)
The castle dining room has been transformed into a war room.
Sheets of paper cover the massive oak table. I spot lists, schedules, diagrams that look suspiciously like Napoleonic battle plans but apparently concern the organization of a scone stand.
Callum stands in front of a whiteboard holding a marker with the expression of a general briefing his troops before the final assault.
Keira and Lachlan sit on either side of Maggie, bent over what appears to be a detailed schedule of events.
Jane and Emma are talking quietly near the window.
Alistair is studying a map of the estate.
Nate and Lily arrived this morning and occupy the chairs at the back of the room.
The twins, Cameron and Connor, are sprawled in their seats with the enthusiasm of condemned prisoners awaiting execution.
And me?
I’m standing near the door.
Because apparently, as the official doctor for the Highland Games, I’m required to attend this meeting.
Mary walks in a few seconds after me, her hair still damp from the rain. Our eyes meet briefly. Since last night and the garden massacre, we’ve barely exchanged three words.
She takes an empty seat beside Keira while I remain standing.
“Alright,” Callum begins, tapping the whiteboard with his marker. “The Highland Games begin in exactly twelve days. We have an enormous amount to organize.”
“We know,” Connor grumbles. “You’ve said that twenty times already.”
“Twenty-three, actually,” Cameron corrects. “I counted.”
Callum shoots them a dark look before turning back to the group.
“Logistics are a nightmare. We’re expecting forty-seven clans. Not including unaffiliated visitors. That means hundreds of people on the estate for three days.”
“Four,” Maggie corrects from her throne at the head of the table.
Callum rubs his temples.
“Four days. Thank you, Grandmother.”
“It gives people time to appreciate our hospitality,” she replies with a smile that fools absolutely no one. “And allows everyone the opportunity to participate in the various competitions.”
I catch Mary suppressing a smile.
“Let’s review everyone’s responsibilities,” Callum announces, turning toward the whiteboard where he’s already listed names beside assigned tasks.
He starts with Keira and Alistair, who are handling whisky supplies for the céilidh and the different stands.
Emma is in charge of coordinating traditional costumes.
Jane oversees accommodations. Lachlan is responsible for the historical and cultural organization, which apparently includes supervising bagpipe demonstrations and Gaelic poetry recitals.
“Mary,” Callum continues, “you’re our official veterinarian. You’ll oversee everything involving the animals. Sheep, sheepdogs, horses for the equestrian demonstrations…”
“Not forgetting Hamish and Ragnar,” Keira adds with a crooked smile.
Mary sighs.
“I’ll try to keep them contained. Far away. Very far away.”
“Good luck with that,” Lachlan mutters.
Callum turns toward me.
His marker points directly at me like a weapon.
“Dr. McLeod. You’re our official physician.”
“I know.”
“That means you need to remain available at all times during the four days. We’ll need a medical tent set up near the main field. You’ll have two volunteer assistants from the village.”
“I already received the briefing by email.”
Which I’ve had plenty of time to reread considering my patient schedule has been slightly underwhelming lately.
But I wisely keep that to myself.
“Perfect,” Callum says. “Now let’s move on to the athletic events.”
He turns back to the board and begins listing the competitions.
Apparently anything physically throwable will indeed be thrown during the Games: logs, stones, hammers—everything.
Not to mention tug-of-war, footraces, and sack races.
The sprain and fracture potential is spectacular.
“This year,” Callum announces with the solemnity of a man revealing classified state secrets, “we’ve decided to add a special event. An interclan tug-of-war competition.”
The twins immediately sit up straighter.
“Interclan?” Cameron repeats.
“Exactly. Every clan present will form a team. The McGregor team absolutely must participate. It’s a matter of honor.”
“And who exactly is on the McGregor team?” Connor asks suspiciously.
Callum smiles.
The kind of smile that almost never leads to good things.
“All of us. Me, Keira, Lachlan, Mary, Cameron, Connor… and Dr. McLeod, naturally.”
The silence following that statement is heavy.
Every eye in the room turns toward me.
“I’m sorry?” I say slowly.
“You’re part of the team,” Callum repeats like this should be obvious.
“I’m not a McGregor.”
“Technically no,” he admits. “But you’re the castle doctor. You live here. You’re... associated with the family.”
I look at Mary.
She looks back at me.
Her expression is unreadable.
I turn my attention back to Callum.
“I don’t think that’s appropriate.”
“Why not?” Cameron asks, leaning forward with his palms flat against the table.
“Because I’m not part of your clan.”
“You’re dating Mary, aren’t you?” Connor points out. “That makes you a McGregor by association.”
“Exactly,” Callum confirms. “By association.”
Something tightens painfully in my chest.
This conversation is going somewhere I absolutely do not like.
“I’m a doctor. I need to remain available for every clan.”
“You can still do your job,” Keira assures me. “The tug-of-war won’t last long.”
“That’s not the point.”
“Then what is the point?” Lachlan asks, crossing his arms.
I search for the right words.
How exactly do I explain that I don’t want to be forcibly absorbed into their family? That I don’t want to pretend to belong somewhere I’ll never truly fit? That I’m already acting out one lie with Mary and don’t have the emotional capacity to perform another?
“It’s a matter of principle,” I finally say. “I don’t participate in competitions. I’m here to treat people, not fight them.”
“It’s not a battle,” Cameron corrects. “It’s a sport.”
“It’s an aggressive sport.”
“It’s tradition,” Callum insists. “You live in the Highlands now. It’s time you understood our traditions.”
Anger rises inside me slowly.
Like a wave gathering force before crashing against the shore.
“I understand your traditions perfectly well. But I don’t have to participate in them to prove anything to anyone.”
“Nobody’s asking you to prove anything,” Callum says in a soothing tone that somehow only irritates me more.
“Really? Because this feels a lot like a test.”
“A test?” Connor repeats, raising an eyebrow.
“Yes. A test. To see whether I’m McGregor enough to be accepted.”
Silence falls over the room again.
Heavier this time.
More tense.
Maggie, who hasn’t spoken until now, delicately sets down her teacup onto its saucer, though the soft clink echoes in my ears like a ceremonial gong.
“No one is testing anyone, Dr. McLeod,” she says in that deceptively gentle voice. “We are simply trying to include you.”
“I never asked to be included.”
“You are dating my granddaughter. You live under my roof. Whether you like it or not, you are included.”
I shake my head.
“No. I’m here temporarily. For work. Mary and I... this isn’t…”
I stop.
Because I can’t finish that sentence.
Not in front of her family.
Not while we’re supposed to be pretending.
Mary suddenly stands so quickly her chair scrapes loudly against the floor.
“Finn’s right.”
Every head turns toward her.
“He doesn’t have to participate if he doesn’t want to. He’s a doctor. He needs to stay available for all participants. It would be irresponsible to ask him to compete when there could be emergencies.”
“There will be two volunteers from the village,” Callum reminds her.
“Who do not have the same medical training,” Mary shoots back sharply. “Finn is the only actual doctor. He needs to be free to do his job.”
She looks directly at me.
Her green eyes burn with something I can’t quite identify.
Anger?
Frustration?
Something else entirely?
“He doesn’t owe anyone an explanation,” she continues firmly. “He’s here because he wants to be here, not because anyone forced him.”
The twins exchange a look.
Callum sighs and caps the marker.
“Fine. If that’s what both of you want.”
“It is,” Mary confirms immediately.
She sits back down.
I remain standing with my arms crossed, painfully aware that everyone is still watching me.
Maggie fixes me with that piercing gaze of hers.
The one that makes it feel like she can read every thought you’re desperately trying to hide.
“Very well,” she says at last. “Let’s continue.”
The meeting moves on.
Callum resumes assigning tasks. Keira asks logistical questions. Lachlan suggests modifications to the cultural schedule.
But I’m no longer really listening.
I’m thinking about Mary.
About the way she stood up for me like she instinctively understood exactly why I refused.
Like she knows me.
The meeting finally ends an hour later.
People gradually scatter. Callum rolls up his papers. Keira and Alistair talk quietly near the fireplace. The twins disappear toward the kitchen, probably to steal scones.
Mary leaves the room without looking at me.
I follow her.
She walks quickly down the hallway, footsteps echoing across the wood floors. I catch up to her near the front entrance.
“Mary.”
She stops and turns around.
Her expression is impossible to read.
“Thank you,” I say simply.
“For what?”
“For defending me in front of your family.”
She shrugs.
“You shouldn’t have had to justify yourself. It was unfair.”
“They were just trying to include me.”
“By forcing you to do something you don’t want to do? That’s not inclusion, Finn. That’s pressure.”
I blink.
“You’re angry.”
“Yes, I’m angry. They don’t get to treat you like that. You’re a doctor. You belong here. You don’t have to prove anything.”
“You told them I was here because I wanted to be.”
“That’s true, isn’t it?”
I really look at her then.