“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?
