Page 46 of Claimed Highland Brides

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RETURN TO SENDER

B arclay stood at the bow of the ship, watching the shores of Scotland come into sight. The journey from Spain had been fraught with headwinds and sudden squalls, but here he was, at last, about to set foot in his homeland after ten years in exile.

Grandfather is going to be quite surprised .

He had written many letters to his father’s kin over the years. Little reminders that he was still alive and well and that he had not forgotten his birthright. He’d never received a reply and so it was fortunate that he was not expecting one. Other than his grandparent, he did not keep in touch with anyone else. Having been too young to truly forge lasting bonds, he did not have many friends in Scotland.

I wonder if the Douglass sisters still remember me .

He did hope that they were all well. Many times when he felt alone, he recalled Aileen’s words to him: It’ll be better in the morning.

Those words kept him going on the days when the darkness threatened to overwhelm him. A footfall had him turning his head. “So that is Scotland, eh?” His cousin Diego came to stand by his side, jet-black hair blowing in the wind, dark eyes fixed on the shoreline.

“Aye.” Barclay’s voice was soft and low as his homeland grew nearer.

Diego turned to face him. “Are you sure you want to do this? If it is land you need, we have plenty in Espania.”

Barclay grinned. “And generous ye are wi’ it. But this is my father’s legacy. It is all I have left of my parents. I must claim it.”

Diego nodded. “ Entiendo . I would feel the same had I grown up away from my homeland.”

“ Gracias for undertaking this journey wi’ me, Diego. Ye and yer brother have made it easier to confront these shores.”

Diego waved a hand. “ No es nada. ”

“It is not nothing, Diego.” Barclay stared at his cousin until the Spaniard was forced to look back. “It is everything.”

Diego laughed quietly. “Ach. Always so histrionic. It is as if you are a full Spaniard.”

“I grew up surrounded by them. Tha’ must be why.”

Diego nodded. “I shall get Antonio, and we shall watch your homeland approach together.”

“Aye. Thank ‘e Diego.”

* * *

Aileen opened her eyes and stared at the ceiling, realizing that her feeling of approaching danger was simply part of her dream. She inhaled softly and sat up. The morning was wet and dewy, rife with the petrichor from the rainy night. She breathed in deeply, savoring the beginning of the new day. Closing her eyes, she began to pray.

Thank ye, dear Lord, for the new day. Thank ye for my family and our home . Thank ye for health and safety, food to eat, and beds to sleep in. Thank ye for love .

She opened her eyes and smiled, stretching languidly as she took stock of her body. She wiggled her toes, watching her feet as they moved, so pale and smooth as if she never got any sunlight. She shuffled off the bed, grabbing a robe and slipping it on. It was early, but she knew that soon, her youngest sister, ùna, would come looking for her. She had taken to coming to Aileen’s room after Jamesina got married.

Aileen smiled. I suppose now she willnae have to wake anyone else up to accompany her to breakfast. It’s not as if I’ll ever be wed.

Of her five sisters, Aileen considered herself to be the plainest. With her long, coltish legs, pale and thin as she was, she melted into the background compared to her vibrant siblings. Her hair was a dark brown, like tree bark after the rain; her eyes, a washed-out grey that jumped to green when she was happy and blue when she was angry. There was nothing about her that stood out, and while this had bothered her for a while when she was younger, she had come to terms with it now.

Right on cue, there was a perfunctory knock on the door, and ùna stuck her head in, grinning from ear to ear. “Guid mornin’ Aileen. Time to wake!”

Aileen smiled back. “Oh, ye’re too late this mornin’, ùna. I am awready awake.”

Her youngest sister skipped inside the room. “Excellent. Can we go for breakfast now?”

“Aye. Let me get my slippers. I see ye’re dressed for the day. Did ye visit the stables before coming here?”

ùna took her hand, leading her out of her chambers. “Aye. Gordon took me for a ride on Pegasus.”

“Really? He isnae too big for ye?”

She pouted at Aileen. “No! I can ride him well. I’m a big lassie the noo!”

“O’course ye are.” Aileen suppressed her laughter. “I dinnae mean to imply ye werenae.”

They descended the stairs, bickering good-naturedly about what ùna was old enough to do. At the bottom of the stairs, they ran into Fiona, chasing her twins as they screamed and ran down the corridor.

“Come back here, ye scamps!” She clawed her hands and bared her teeth. Aidan and Rorie just screamed and laughed louder, waddling down the corridor, until their father appeared out of nowhere and scooped them up into his arms.

“Got ye!” he growled as he hoisted them over his shoulders as if they were sacks of potatoes. The twins giggled as they entreated him to put them down.

“No, no. I cannae let ye run off again. It’s time for breakfast, and ye will eat if it’s the last thing ye do.”

ùna let go of Aileen’s hand and took off after Daividh and the twins. “Wait for me!” she cried.

Aileen looked at Fiona, and they exchanged smiles, shaking their heads. Aileen stepped down the last stair and looped her hand with Fiona’s. “Remember when we could sleep until the sun actually rose in the sky?”

Fiona threw back her head and laughed. “No. I dinnae think my memory goes back that far.”

Aileen reached out with her other hand and touched Fiona’s delicately rounded belly. “And here ye are, wanting to add to the brood.”

“Ach, like I had much choice aboot it. Daividh willnae leave me be.” She pouted, pretending annoyance.

“Go on wi’ ye! As if ye dinnae accost him just as much. I’ve seen th’ two o’ ye together. Always touching. It’s disgusting. Ye’ve been marrit three years, noo!”

“Three years?” Fiona looked surprised. “It cannae be that long.”

“I suppose it’s been an interesting time. Ye hardly notice the time passing.”

“Och, aye.”

They walked slowly into the dining hall, where Daividh was still wrangling his children with ùna’s help as the serving girl poured them some parritch.

Aileen and Fiona took their seats as their twin sisters barreled into the room from the kitchens. “Good morning,” they called in perfect harmony as they took a seat.

Aileen looked up and smiled. “Fenella, Maisie, where’d ye come from?”

“Ooh, there was a tinker come from Drumacree. He had some news,” Maisie said.

“Ye mean gossip,” Fiona replied with a frown.

“Aye, weel.” Fenella shrugged. “It wasnae of any interest. Nothing much is going on.”

“And that’s a relief,” Aileen said. “We’ve had enough drama here to last us a lifetime.”

“I say amen to that,” someone said from behind her. She turned to see her brother-in-law and Daividh’s steward, Delwyn Barton, helping her sister Jamesina to the table. She was awkward with her first pregnancy, and Delwyn was the soul of solicitousness. He seated her first before fetching a bowl of parritch for her. Only then did he take his own seat.

“Weel, guid mornin’ t’ye both,” Fiona said with a grin.

Jamesina smiled. “Guid mornin’ family.”

“Good morning, everyone,” Delwyn chimed in.

Mrs. Fitz, the housekeeper, brought in a tray piled high with bannocks. Aileen straightened up with delight, inhaling the doughy scent as it swept the room.

“Mm, that smells delicious,” Daividh declared.

Mrs. Fitz slapped at his reaching hand before distributing bannocks to everyone’s plate. “I’ll bring out the tea the noo,” she declared as she waddled off back to the kitchens. Everyone dug in, not much in the way of conversation happening as they cleared their plates. Most of the castle inhabitants had already had their breakfast and were going about their business, so it was just the family at the table. Aileen looked at them all, grateful to have them all around her. She recalled the lost, rudderless feeling that had engulfed her after their father’s death four years ago. Fiona had struggled to hold them together while their uncle tried to marry her off.

Now both Fiona and Jamesina were married to men they loved. The gold mines were thriving, as were the farms. Hunting was good. There was absolutely nothing to worry about anymore. Aileen had no need to worry about scoundrels seeking to marry her for her share in the gold mine. Not when people hardly noticed her at all.

She looked across the table at the twins, dominating the conversation and finishing each other’s sentences. They might attract the wrong kind of attention, but not she.

Fiona leaned towards her. “What has ye so quiet?”

“Nothing. Just…feeling grateful.”

* * *

Barclay convinced his cousins to remain at the inn in Drumacree while he proceeded alone to Inchcree. He did not want his step-uncle to think he had arrived with a hostile force. Once he landed on the shores of Edinburgh, he had sought out the family lawyer, Euan McGregor, to notify him of his return. The lawyer had informed him that his step-uncle, Peadar MacFarland, was living on his land. Since nobody had protested his occupation, he had continued to stay there over the years, lording it over the tenants and collecting the rents for himself.

While he could not blame his uncle for taking advantage of the situation, he had now returned and was ready to claim his birthright. His father had always emphasized to him that while he carried the MacFarland name, their family had its own separate legacy. One they would build on their own.

Being the illegitimate offspring of Alistair MacFarland, Hamish faced a fair amount of hostility from Alistair’s legitimate family. His wife, Ada, pretended not to see him if he came around to the house. His stepbrothers pushed him around as much as they could. The land that Hamish inherited was as a result of payment demanded by his mother’s family as repayment for defiling and then abandoning her.

It belonged to Barclay’s father, free and clear, and he was free to do with it as he wished. No one else from the MacFarland family had any right to it. Thus Barclay was here to reclaim his birthright. He was ready to do anything to make sure his father’s legacy was not erased.

He traveled with just his manservant, hoping that he could speak in a civil manner with his uncle and notify him that as Barclay was back, he would have to leave. According to McGregor, Peadar was a stubborn man who might not take his arrival well. Barclay was determined that whether or not the man wanted it, he would have to accept Barclay’s presence.

He drew up to the huge wrought iron gates of Inchcree Hall, memories suffusing him of his childhood. He stopped for a moment, just taking it all in, noting what had changed and what had stayed the same. A man was walking towards the gate, his eyes on Barclay; the hostility in his gaze was evident.

He came to a stop on the other side of the gate. “What d’ye want?”

“My name is Barclay MacFarland, and this is my land.”

The man’s lips twisted in a sneer. “Och, aye? I spect the laird might have summat to say aboot tha’.”

“And by the laird ye mean Peadar? My uncle?”

“Uncle, ye say?”

“Aye.”

“Weel, ye can find him in the lower field, inspectin’ th’ fences.”

“Would ye kindly fetch him? I shall wait in the parlor.” Barclay spurred his horse on, as his manservant alighted his horse to push the gate open. The man tensed as if he might like to fight, but then he suddenly relaxed and turned away.

“Dinnae get too comfortable,” he murmured before walking away.

Barclay and his manservant proceeded to the house to wait for his uncle. He was curious to know if any of their old servants were still in residence, but nobody looked familiar—not the footmen they passed along the way or any of the people they saw scurrying around. The house was a mess, with evidence of neglect on every corner. As Barclay took a seat, a cloud of dust rose from the settee.

That at least looked familiar. It was the same flower-patterned set his mother had commissioned from a well-regarded carpenter at Drumacree when Barclay had been little more than a babe. His manservant ran his hand against the mantelpiece, his face twisted in disgust as he held his dust-covered finger up.

“Clearly, these people are no’ consairned wi’ cleanliness,” he mumbled.

Barclay smiled. “Aye. Weel, I promise to have the place thoroughly scoured once I’m in charge.”

“A bride would help ye wi’ tha’,” Angus pointed out.

Barclay rolled his eyes. “I’ve barely been in the country ten minutes, and ye’re badgering me aboot getting marrit. Can I get my lands back first, please?”

“O’course, sir. Whatever ye like.”

Barclay huffed a laugh. Angus had walked up to him at the inn in Edinburgh, stating that his eyes looked familiar. “Ye’re a MacFarland are ye no’? I think my ma used to work for yer parents ten years ago. Name’s Angus Fraser.” He bowed elegantly, making Barclay smile.

“What can I do for ye, Angus?”

“Weel, I see that ye need a manservant.”

Barclay’s eyebrow quirked. “I do?”

“Aye. And I just so happen to be available, and so I can start at once.” Angus blinked as he kept his eyes on Barclay, his face serious.

Antonio grinned at him. “A man who knows what he wants. I like him. Take him on, primo .”

Barclay grinned. “Alright. I’ll take ye on. Where’s yer ma the noo?”

Angus’s face dropped. “Deid. The consumption, twa years past.”

Barclay nodded somberly. “Condolences.”

“I’ll just go and collect my belongings.”

“Aye. We’ll be here.”

Angus hadn’t known at the time if he was making a mistake or not but had taken charge of them with startling efficiency, making sure Barclay’s clothes were clean, negotiating the best rates at inns they stayed in, and attending to all of Barclay’s needs. He was an excellent manservant.

The door opened, and Peadar came in. “I am told ye claim to be a nephew of mine?” he began without preamble. “I have met all my nephews, and ye’re no’ one o’ them.”

Barclay got to his feet. “My name is Barclay MacFarland. My father was Hamish MacFarland, and this is my property.”

Peadar sneered, “And ye have evidence of this? As far as we know, Barclay MacFarland was killed along wi’ his parents in a raid. Ye are an imposter.”

Barclay saw red. “How dare ye!”

“Weel, do ye have any proof? If not, I will thank ‘e to get oot o’ my hoose.”

Barclay pointed at his manservant. “Angus can vouch for me. He kens who I am.”

Peadar turned to Angus, looking him up and down before dismissing him. “I dinnae ken who this man is. I have nay reason to believe him. Now get oot before I fetch my men and have ye thrown oot.”