“Us too,” the twins answer in perfect unison.
Jane places a comforting hand on Callum’s shoulder.
“At least you tried.”
“Trying means nothing when you get humiliated by a sheep named Brutus,” Cameron grumbles.
Keira snorts with laughter.
Emma follows.
Then Lily.
Then Nate.
Within seconds, half the table is laughing despite the murderous glares coming from everyone covered in mud.
Maggie slowly stands and leaves the dining room in complete silence.
The rest of the family gradually disperses to clean themselves up, bandage injuries, or simply try forgetting the disaster they just survived.
Finn and I remain seated there in our muddy clothes surrounded by cold food.
“I think Brutus just became a family legend,” I say quietly.
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.
