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Kieran shrugged as they sat before the hearth that now roared with a fire to keep out the chill. Even in summer months, when Glenhaven would be at its warmest, the fire roared. As servants began to prepare for supper around them, Niall and Kieran spoke of Angus. Of Duncraig. And eventually, of their father.

“Has he spoken of it?” Niall asked his brother.

“Nay.” Kieran shook his head. “The stubborn old goat refuses to, though I’ve tried more than once. How has she been received here?”

“Better than expected.” A pang in his chest made Niall envision the frail man in his bed abovestairs who had collapsed in his arms. “Angus,” he said. No other words were necessary. The bond between his wife and the steward , though briefly formed, was evident for all to see in his chamber.

“Angus.” Kieran accepted a mug from a serving woman who poured his ale and then she did the same with Niall. “He will not survive, will he?”

Niall simply did not know. “The healer—”

“Apologize to her.”

He would have, should have, many years ago. “I cannae.”

“Aye, brother, you can. She will forgive you, and you will be better for it.”

The two fell silent as the hall came alive between them. They spoke of other things, of the MacKinlay cattle, all but the most important matter. What would happen if Niall’s father did not accept his wife? If he was forced to give up his place in the clan?

“Kieran. If I am not second, there is no man better suited for the position than you. I would be proud to serve you,” he said, meaning the words.

“Nay,” his brother immediately dismissed him. “I will not allow such talk.”

“In many ways, you are more well suited to it.”

“Niall,” his brother said again. “Nay.”

The more he thought on the matter, the more Niall realized his words rang true. Kieran would make a fine chief. Would any reject him for not being his father’s natural-born son? Niall was unsure of the answer to that question, but of his leadership abilities, he was more certain.

They both stood as the chief of Clan Duncraig approached them.

As always, his father appeared ready for battle, even if ‘twas just with words. Niall raised his arm for a serving girl as his father joined them, and all three sat once again.

“I would speak with you on the matter of your wife,” his father said without preamble, as was his custom.

Niall, prepared to defend her, leaned forward. Niall watched his father and, knowing him well, realized he had come to a decision. His fate would be decided in this very moment.

But unlike the day he’d arrived at Glenhaven, he was not filled with despair at the thought of losing his place in the clan. He’d gained much, much more.

“Angus accepted her,” he said. ‘Twas a statement, and not a question.

“He did,” Niall said.

“He is more of a man than I have been.”

Niall and Kieran exchanged a glance. Had he heard his father correctly?

Surely not.

Though they were separated from others in the hall, it also seemed a very public place to have such a discussion. Especially if his father truly meant those words.

“You may have to repeat yourself,” Kieran said, echoing Niall’s thoughts.

“I spent many years hating Clan MacKinlay. When you brought Lady Avelina home as your wife, I allowed that hate to overtake the love I bear you,” he said to Niall. “I am sorry for it, Son.”

His father had rarely spoken of his love for either him or Kieran, even if they knew it was there. And he apologized, especially to his sons, even less than that.

Niall had no words to offer.