Page 48 of Claimed Highland Brides

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ABANDON ALL HOPE

B arclay sank onto the bed with a sigh, his hands covering his face.

“Sir? Dinnae lose hope. There might still be something we can do.”

Barclay looked up, his expression bleak. “Like what?”

“Ye were searching for Murdo because he would be able to identify ye. Perhaps he left something…like a letter or…an heirloom that might help ye. Yer faither and he were close. If’n anyone had something like tha’ it’d be he.”

Barclay blinked several times, taking in his manservant’s words.

Angus just might be right .

He shot to his feet and headed for the door and was surprised when Angus blocked his way. “Let us clean ourselves up and wait for the supper bell, sir. The laird isnae here, and Miss Douglass is unlikely to ken where the scripts are.”

Barclay hesitated before nodding. “Aye, ye’re right.”

Right on cue, there was a knock on the door, and three servants—including the maid Aileen accosted on the stairs—came in carrying a tub and buckets of hot and cold water. Barclay nodded his thanks as the servants left them to it. He realized he was quite exhausted not just from the journey but the emotional toll of seeing his home again.

As Angus poured water into the tub, he divested himself of clothing and sank gratefully into the very hot depths. “Ah, this is wha’ I needed.” He leaned back and closed his eyes, breathing a sigh of relief.

“Shall I wash ye then, sir?” Angus sounded amused.

“No, thank ‘e.” He didn’t open his eyes as he replied, waving Angus away, “Ye may go and seek yer own ablutions.”

Angus snorted. “Aye, sir. I’ll see ye after dinner then?”

“I suppose so. Dinnae be trying to sow yer wild oats among the servants, mind.”

Angus laughed. “I shall behave mysel’. Ye do the same. I saw ye watchin’ Miss Douglass.”

Barclay opened his eyes to glare at Angus. “These are good Scottish lassies, Angus.”

“I didnae say they werenae.” Angus quickly left the room before Barclay could retort. He snorted in disgust before closing his eyes again and resuming his enjoyment of the water. Now that she had been brought again to mind, Barclay found it difficult to dismiss Angus’s words.

For so many years, Aileen’s words had echoed in his mind, comforting a wee lonely boy in a strange land, surrounded by people who had different habits and a different language. If it were not for Angus, Barclay believed he would have ended his life in those first years.

Her eyes are the same .

A green so dark it was almost black; she was like a pond with unfathomable depths. To see beyond the opaque exterior and plunge down deep was a blessing. He’d seen a glimpse of the person she was after his father had died and he had come to the keep. That glimpse had sustained him, and if he was honest, he had hoped he would see her again when he returned.

The painful memories he’d carried with him seemed to echo in every hill and dale he rode past from Inchcree to Braenaird, each one evoking a sensation he was not ready to face. He had to, however, because his parents were relying on him to preserve their memories. Their legacy.

His brow furrowed as he thought about his step-uncle and how rundown he had let Inchcree get. He had to find a solution and fast before there was nothing left to save. Taking a deep breath, he reached for the cloth and began to soap himself. He needed to make himself presentable and also have some sort of plan that would help him obtain the current laird’s help. He regretted now that he had not asked Aileen more questions about him.

* * *

Diego downed his beer before looking up. He blinked, wondering if he was seeing double. Looking around for his brother, he realized that the double vision only occurred when he was looking at a certain young lady. He took a breath and turned back, realizing that, yes, there were two of the doe-eyed, chestnut-haired beauties.

“ Dios mio ,” he murmured in wonder.

Just as he was trying to decide what to do about this development, his brother walked into the inn, looking determined and brandishing a script. “We have to go, Diego.”

“ Qué pasa ?”

Antonio thrust the script at him. “Barclay has run into trouble. He has gone to this place, Braenaird Castle. We are to meet him there.”

Diego frowned, the twins immediately dismissed from his mind. “What happened?”

Antonio shook his head. “He doesn’t say. We must hurry. How do we get to this Braenaird?”

Diego immediately raised his hand to hail the publican. The man saw his hail, brow immediately furrowing as he noticed that Diego’s tankard was still full. “Aye?” he said suspiciously.

“We want to ask you, where is Braenaird Castle, and how can we go there?” Diego asked.

The publican’s frown deepened, and his eyes flicked to the other side of the room. “What d’ye want wi’ tha’ place?”

“Our cousin is there. He waits for us.” He waved the note at the publican, who stared at it as if thinking hard before pointing to a rowdy group at the corner. A group that included the twins, Diego noted.

“Ask them.” The publican hurried off as if he did not want to be seen with them. Diego frowned at him, sighing at the classic Scottish suspicion of strangers that they’d encountered at every turn. He got to his feet, meeting his brother’s eyes. Antonio nodded determinedly, and they turned as one towards the group. They approach slowly so as not to alarm anyone, quite aware of their outlandish clothing, the gold hoops in their ears, their long unruly dark hair and dark eyes, olive skin that marks them as foreign. The group grew quiet as they noticed Diego and Antonio approach. The one at the head, who Diego assumed was the leader, narrowed his eyes warily, watchfulness gleaming from their depths.

Diego bowed elegantly as he came to a stop at their table. “Forgive us for disturbing your meal,” he began. The whole table was watching them now, nobody said a word.

Diego turned to his brother. “This is Antonio Pablo Guerero, and I am Diego Jose Guerero. We are brothers. We came to Scotland with our cousin, Barclay MacFarland?—”

“Barclay?!” one of the twins exclaimed in surprise, and Diego turned to her in satisfaction. “You know him then?”

Her mouth remained half open as if she meant to say something else but remembered that she did not trust him. She looked, not to the leader at the head of the table but at the woman with a child at his side. After some non-verbal communication, she turned back to face him, her doe eyes hitting him square in the face. “Ye’re his Spanish kin?”

Diego beamed. They did know him. “Si. He has asked that my brother and I join him at Braenaird Castle.” He handed over the note to the girl. “And we are told that you may know where that is.”

She unfolded the note, her sister leaning over her shoulder to read it before passing it to the pregnant lady. She read it as well before passing it across the table to the second man there. She turned to them and smiled. “Have a seat won’t ye? My name is Fiona Campbell.” She pointed at the twins and the other two ladies seated with them. “These are my sisters.” Pointing to the head of the table, she said, “My husband, Daividh Campbell, Laird of Braenaird Castle, and his steward and my brother-in-law, Delwyn Barton.”

Diego and Antonio nodded in greeting to the whole table before taking a seat.

“When we left home, yer cousin wasnae there,” Daividh said.

Diego shook his head. “We do not know why he went there. I do not wish to broadcast his business, however?—”

“He came back for his birthright, did he no’?” the other twin interrupted him. He did not know whether he liked their boldness or was annoyed by it.

“Si,” Antonio said shortly.

The laird turned to his wife. “Which property is it ye speak of?”

She leaned toward him, their hands touching on the table. “It’s Inchcree.”

He nodded in understanding. “Ach. Gilroy MacFarland’s place?”

“It does not belong to this Gilroy you say. It is Barclay’s land,” Diego interjected.

Daividh nodded, watching him with impassive eyes. “I see.”

Fiona again filled in the blanks. “Our faither was very closely involved in the succession agreements. I expect that is why Barclay has headed for Braenaird Castle. He hopes to find something that will help with his claim?”

“I can only speculate, my lady.” Diego bowed to her. “I will not ascertain the truth until we see him.”

Fiona nodded. “Weel, ye can travel wi’ us as we head home.”

Daividh made a skeptical sound, and he and his wife exchanged a long look, one that contained an entire conversation. In the end, Daividh huffed and returned to his meal. Fiona turned and smiled at Diego. “Ye mun’ tell us aboot yer travels. I havenae yet left our shores. How was yer journey?”

Diego put himself out to be pleasant. If these people could help Barclay in some way, then they owed it to him to help as much as they could. When their father had asked that they make this journey with Barclay, he had seemed to hint at some danger, although he would not be clear about it. Slowly, though, things began to make sense.