Page 59 of Claimed Highland Brides

14

SUMMIT

T hey set out as the sun rose the next morning, Barclay still feeling the glow of the night with his wife. There had been something different about their lovemaking that night.

It was as if she gave me her whole self finally .

Barclay glanced at Aileen as she rode beside him, head down, seemingly lost in thought. He wanted her to look up so he could smile at her. Unfortunately, she did not seem to hear his unspoken plea. His new brother- and sister-in-law rode ahead of them, talking in low tones, and Barclay smiled, thinking of some future in which he and Aileen did the same thing.

Suddenly Daividh turned to him. “We should be at Drumacree by midday. Is there anything ye need us to ken or do afore we face yer uncle?”

Barclay blinked, trying to think about that. “I think we mun’ wait and see what objections he comes up with and then answer them.”

Daividh nodded. “Vera weel. We shall follow yer lead.”

Barclay nodded gratefully at the unconditional support. It brought a lump to his throat that these virtual strangers were willing to do so much for him. After all, they had not seen him since he was but a wee boy. For all they knew, he had grown up to be a complete ruffian. But on the strength of old acquaintance, they were willing to vouch for him.

Well, not only old acquaintance …

His eyes flicked to Aileen, who still was looking at anything but him. He wondered if he should be concerned about that. But then his father’s words seemed to float on the cool morning breeze towards him.

Dinnae borrow trouble when ye have enough to be going on wi’ .

He snickered and saw in his periphery that Aileen was looking at him. He turned to meet her quizzical gaze, still smiling. She smiled shyly back, and his heart settled. Reaching out a hand, he plucked hers from the reins and squeezed it.

“Alrigh’?” he asked.

She nodded slowly. “I’m fine.”

* * *

They arrived at Drumacree at midday as promised and stopped at the inn to have a bite to eat. Aileen felt more and more nervous as the time approached to meet with Gilroy. She had a bad feeling about it all and was on the verge of suggesting they abandon the meet and go back home when Daividh got to his feet. “’Tis time. We should go.”

Barclay nodded, getting to his feet as well to follow the laird out. With a sigh, Aileen took her sister’s proffered hand and followed them. They walked to Aifric’s house. The soothsayer lived on the edge of town in a cottage sitting on an acre of land. She had no gate, but the entrance to her property was decorated with various occultist instruments not familiar to Aileen. She had a feeling, though, that nobody entered the compound whom Aifric did not want there.

The soothsayer herself was waiting at the door of her cottage, her visage grave. Daividh made a leg and greeted her in the Gaidhlig . She acknowledged him before her eyes went to Barclay, and she nodded to him. “Ye’re welcome home then, young MacFarland.”

He stepped forward. “Thank ‘e. That is much appreciated.”

She took a step back and turned. “Come in. Yer uncle hasnae arrived yet. He should be here shortly.”

Daividh gestured for Barclay to precede him. Barclay took hold of Aileen’s hand and led her inside the surprisingly spacious cottage. They took a seat while a young woman served refreshments. They had barely settled when they heard a commotion at the door, and Gilroy burst in. He stopped short as he saw that Barclay was not alone and sneered.

“I see ye brought reinforcements.”

Barclay got to his feet, his brow furrowed with annoyance. He turned, gesturing towards Aileen. “Reinforcements? Ye mean my wife?” He then turned towards Daividh and Fiona. “And my in-laws?”

Gilroy sneered. “I suppose ye think ye have me checkmated with this marriage?”

Barclay lifted an eyebrow. “The facts do speak for themselves.”

Gilroy stepped right into Barclay’s personal space. “I’ll gi’ ye that land o’er my deid body,” he spat.

Barclay’s lip curled. “Tha’ can be arranged.”

Aifric stepped in. “Now, now, gen’lemen. This isnae how to conduct a negotiation. Sit ye both down.”

To Barclay’s surprise, Gilroy obeyed. He took a seat in an armchair far from the sofa around which Barclay and his new family were gathered. Aifric took a seat between them, looking unperturbed by the air of hostility and violence in the air. She turned to Barclay. “Ye are newly returned from yer mother’s people in Spain, are ye no’?”

Barclay nodded. “Aye.”

“And yer uncle, he has been living in yer home ever since ye left?”

Barclay’s eyes slid to Gilroy. “He has been squattin’ there, aye.”

Gilroy growled deep in his throat, but to everyone’s surprise, he did not try to argue the point.

“And now ye want to throw him oot on th’ street?”

Barclay snorted. “He has a home to go to. Is his father no’ still alive? Does he no’ have property? Inchcree is my birthright!”

Aifric nodded in understanding, turning to Gilroy. “Now ye, why do ye no’ give the lad back his land?”

Gilroy frowned at her tone. “’Tis mine the noo. I have lived there for years. Where was he? Why come now?”

“There is nothing in the will that places a time limit to my rights,” Barclay said coldly.

“And ye expected the land to just lie fallow, waiting for ye?”

“When I left, there was a caretaker. In any case, ye cannae question me aboot the running o’ my own land!”

“’Tis no’ yers anymore!” Gilroy shouted.

“Aye, ’tis. And ye shall leave it forthwith. I have fulfilled the terms o’ the will. I even have a wife”—he gestured wildly at Aileen—“so ye have no more reason to be stubborn.”

Gilroy turned to Aifric. “We dinnae even ken if he is really Barclay MacFarland. We only have his word.”

“Oh, aye?” Barclay took a step toward him. “So why did yer faither offer to buy the land off me then?”

Gilroy blanched. “He didnae!”

“Oh, he did. I have the offer in writing. He acknowledges me as the rightful heir. Ye havenae anymore right to the land. I shall be taking it over within the week, so ye better leave.”

Gilroy’s mouth twisted. “Oh, ye think so? We’ll see aboot tha’.”

Aifric stepped between them. “We shall stop here lest things get too violent.” She turned to Gilroy. “It seems this man has proved his claim beyond a shadow o’ a doubt. Will ye leave the noo?”

Gilroy shook his head. “We dinnae ken if wha’ he says is true. I will have to speak to my faither first.”

“Oh, and how long will that take?”

“We can continue this meeting on the morrow,” Gilroy said.

Aifric nodded. “Vera weel.” She turned to Barclay. “Are ye agreeable to this?”

Barclay narrowed his eyes suspiciously. “Aye, alrigh’.”

* * *

Diego slowly descended the stairs, the hairs at the back of his neck standing on end. The house was silent, aside from the usual night noises that assailed an occupied residence at night. Yet his instincts had never failed him, and at the moment, they were screaming that danger was imminent. He paused, listening hard, wishing he had his sword on him.

He turned, meaning to go back to his chambers and get it, when he heard a light scraping sound as if a foot had bumped into something it had not meant to. He froze, listening hard, and for a while, there was no sound. And then, there it was again—a stealthy footfall, not far from where he was.

He had been heading to the kitchens to fetch some water to quench his thirst and was unsure exactly which wing of the keep he was in. He did know that there was no call for anyone to be creeping along stealthily. The chamber doors were thick and, as far as he knew, well inured to the ordinary sounds that might disturb a household at night.

He sank into the shadows beside the stairs, trying to pinpoint the direction of the footsteps. As he crouched in the shadows, wondering what he could possibly use as a weapon, even if it were an intruder, a man came into sight. He was holding some sort of weapon in hand, and his body was shrouded in a shawl so that his shape was indistinct.

He stalked down the corridor, looking left and right as if fearing discovery. A second man appeared from the stairwell just as Diego was deciding to get up and follow the first.

Where the devil are the guards ?

He let the man creep past him before following. The first man opened a door at the end of the corridor and crept into the chamber while the second man kept watch. Diego took the chance to rush him, slinging his arm around the man’s neck and squeezing for all he was worth. The man squirmed, trying to wriggle out of Diego’s hold or call out, but Diego slowly pressed down upon his neck, cutting off his air.

Eventually, the man slumped in a dead faint, and Diego let him fall to the ground. He slid into the room where he saw two figures struggling on the bed. One was making whimpering noises, clearly trying to shout for help while the other repeatedly muffled their mouth.

Diego looked around for anything he could use as a weapon, and his eyes fell on the pewter jug sitting on the sideboard beside the basin of water. He grabbed it, rushed the man on the bed, and swiped it hard across the back of the man’s head.

He let out a roar of pain and turned to Diego, staggering a bit in confusion. Diego leaped forward, going for the man’s arms and imprisoning them in his own. The man tried to headbutt him, but he dodged out of the way, thus compromising his hold on the man’s arms.

The man pressed his advantage, pushing Diego back and causing him to stumble. He kept his feet, however, and rushed forward, hands fisted. The person in the bed got there before him, having commandeered the pewter jug and brought it down over the man’s head again. He collapsed at Diego’s feet, who kicked him a few times to make sure he stayed down. Then he peered in the dim light from the fire, trying to find out which sister he’d saved.

“ùna? Are you quite alright?”

She nodded, her breath hitching, and Diego opened his arms for her. She ran into them, hitching having turned into veritable sobs. He picked her up and put her on his hip. “Come, we must go and find help.”

She nodded, clinging to him like a limpet. He carried her out, stepping over the second man before hesitating. “Where do your sisters sleep?” he asked.

She pointed at the door across from her, and he went and knocked. “Who is it?”

Diego turned to ùna. “Say it’s you.”

ùna called out to her sister, who opened the door, and Diego saw that it was Maisie. Her eyes widened when she saw them. “What is going on?”

“There has been an attack. I must go and see what is happening downstairs. Can you stay with your sister? She can apprise you of what has happened. Lock your door.”

Maisie’s eyes widened further. “Oh, dear. Will ye be alrigh’ on yer own?”

Diego smiled at this sign of caring. “I shall not be alone. I shall fetch my brother.”