Page 62 of Claimed Highland Brides

17

INFILTRATION

“W hat are ye doing?”

She jumped, looking around frantically for who had spoken. Then she looked down and saw the young boy, looking curiously up at her. “Beg yer pardon?”

The boy pointed to her basket. “What are ye doing?”

She looked from the basket to the boy, eyes narrowing speculatively. “Would ye like an apple?”

The boy’s eyes lit up. “Aye!”

Aileen reached into her basket and pulled one out. As the boy reached for it, she pulled it back. “What’s yer name?”

“Hamish.”

Aileen’s brow went up. “Like yer uncle?”

The boy frowned in puzzlement. “My uncle? I dinnae have an uncle.”

Aileen shook her head, handing him the apple and watching as he took an eager bite. “Do ye want another?”

He nodded eagerly.

“Then there is something I need for ye to do for me.”

“What is it?”

Aileen bit her lip as she thought. “I want ye to go and tell the guard at the gate that there is a fire on the other side of the castle, and ye need his help.”

The boy’s eyes widened in trepidation. “There’s a fire?”

“No, no!” She squeezed his arm reassuringly. “There’s no fire. It’s just a prank.”

Hamish looked uncertain. “A prank?”

“Aye. Ye ken a prank?”

Hamish shook his head slowly, his eyes still on her.

“’Tis when ye trick somebody into doing something because ’tis funny.”

Instead of clearing up Hamish’s confusion, this seemed to increase it. “Och,” he said thoughtfully.

Aileen realized that his family was probably not one for games or tricks. “Will ye help me?”

Hamish nodded slowly. “Alrigh’.”

Aileen smiled at him. “Guid lad. Now ye go to the gate and tell him that there’s a fire.”

“Near the well?”

“Aye. Near the well.”

Hamish nodded and took off at a run. Aileen exhaled sharply, fading into the shadows as she waited.

Will he fall for it ? What about the men sparring? What should I do about them ?

Sidling along the wall, she peeked around into the courtyard. Her young friend was busy dragging the guard at the gate away, pointing at something around the corner. The guard seemed half-irritable, half-amused. The important thing was that he followed the boy. As soon as they were out of sight, Aileen started walking, trying to seem natural, drawing a sigh of relief as she reached the gate.

It was chained shut, and for a moment, her heart dropped into her stomach, but then she noticed that the small gate through which she’d entered was unlatched. With a sigh of relief, she opened it and peeked out, looking around frantically for Barclay.

He poked his head out of a bush that seemed to have appeared on the side of the wall, startling her quite badly. She bit back a squeal and narrowed her eyes at him. “Hurry!” she said before stepping out of the way. Suddenly all the men were rushing through the doorway, with a lot of yelling and screeching.

Once the last man was through the gate, she followed, running for the kitchens. The least she could do was sow some more confusion and give them more time to find Gilroy without too much bloodshed.

She spared a thought for the boy, Hamish, and changed direction, thinking to make sure he was safe.

Lord, help us all .

* * *

Barclay felt the bloodlust come upon him as Gilroy’s men first realized that they were being invaded and raised the MacFarland war cry, rushing upon them. From one moment to the next, the courtyard went from empty to teeming with running men. Barclay had one goal and let Daividh and his men deal with the advancing warriors. He veered towards the castle, bursting through the doors without slowing down, and then paused, trying to decide where to look first.

The layout was still hauntingly familiar to him; echoes of his childhood seemed to scream at him from every corner. He decided to check the dining hall as it was early in the day and likely that the master had just sat down to break his fast.

He slowed to a walking pace, weapon concealed, trying to blend in. Sooner rather than later, he came upon groups of people, rushing about in confusion.

“Is it an invasion?” a young girl clutched the arm of a burly man, eyes wide with fear.

“I dinnae ken,” he replied gruffly, shaking her off. “Ye’d best hide until we do.”

She ran off towards the kitchens, and the man turned, going down a corridor that Barclay knew led to the armory. He concealed himself behind a large vase until both people had left before stepping into the dining hall.

Several people were milling about, but Gilroy wasn’t among them. He grabbed hold of a portly woman dressed in humble homespun and wheeled her around. “Where’s yer master then?” he growled.

She squealed, and he shook her roughly to stop her. “Tell me, and ye shalnae be hurt.”

With a shaking hand, she pointed towards the armory. He nodded his thanks and took off.

Bursting into the armory was an anticlimax as it was quite empty of people. He growled in frustration and followed the sound of voices, which led him right back to the courtyard. Gilroy stood near the well, surrounded by his men as he spoke frantically, likely issuing instructions. Barclay gritted his teeth determinedly and went forward, sword raised.

He came to a stop a few feet away from the usurper. “Gilroy MacFarland, let us settle this like men. I challenge ye to a duel.” With that, he unsheathed his sghian dhu and threw it at the man’s feet.

The noise and clash of swords in the courtyard cut off abruptly as everyone paused to see what Gilroy might do. He looked down at the dagger and then up at Barclay while huffing and puffing.

With a grunt of anger, he reached down and picked up the sghian dhu, handing it back by the blade.

“I accept yer challenge,” he growled.

Barclay stepped back, still glaring. “Tell yer men to put their weapons down.”

Gilroy continued to glare before he turned and nodded. His men immediately moved back, leaving a half circle in the courtyard. Daividh and his men congregated on the other side. For a moment, Barclay was distracted, looking for Aileen among them.

She must have stayed beyond the gates .

Turning his mind to the duel at hand, he lifted his sword and got into position.

“Wait,” Daividh said, “do ye no’ need a judge?”

“Nay,” Gilroy said. “Fight to the death.”

Daividh’s eyes widened as he looked to Barclay.

Barclay met his eye. “To the death,” he repeated.

Daividh heaved a long sigh. “Vera weel then.”

* * *

Aileen found Hamish crouching beside the well, his small hands fisted as if prepared for a fight. There was no sign of the guard.

“Hamish!” she hissed, reaching for him. His head shot up, eyes wide with fear. When he saw who it was, he dropped his fist, eyes filling with relief.

“It’s ye. I did what ye said. Can I have another apple?”

Aileen blinked at him in some surprise. “Uh, aye, o’ course.” She reached into her bag and extracted an apple, handing it to him with a smile.

“Are ye alrigh’?” she asked softly. “Where’s yer mither?”

His face fell. “Mother left us. Da said we musnae talk aboot her.”

Her heart twisted with sympathy. “I’m sorry for tha’. Come, let me take ye back to the hoose.”

In the distance, she could hear the clash of swords and the cursing of men. She didn’t want this little boy anywhere near it. Bending down, she reached for his hand. “Let’s go,” she whispered.

Trustingly, he took her hand and let her lead him to the manor house through a side door. “Do ye have someone to take care o’ ye then?”

Hamish looked up at her, brow furrowed with puzzlement. “Ye mean like Mrs. Woodward? She cooks for us.”

Aileen sighed. “I suppose. Where can we find her?”

“In the kitchen.”

“Alrigh’ then, take me there.”

Hamish led the way, chewing contentedly on his apple. Now that she had time to notice, she saw that he was quite thin, possibly malnourished. His hair was dank and unwashed, his clothes poorly mended.

What kind of household are ye running, Gilroy ?

She tried to think if she had heard what happened to his bride, but nothing came to mind. She had not even known that he had any children. They arrived at the kitchen where a variety of women were huddled together, talking in low tones and looking afraid.

A rotund woman wearing an apron over her homespun gown turned at the sound of Hamish’s loud chewing, and her mouth dropped open. “Master Hamish! Where have ye been?”

Aileen stepped back as she came towards them, and Hamish turned and pointed at her. “I been wi’ Aileen, Mrs. Woodward, out by th’ well.”

The housekeeper stopped short and considered Aileen slowly. “Ye’re one o’ the Douglass sisters, are ye no?” she asked calmly, much to Aileen’s surprise.

“Aye, I am.”

“Is it them that has attacked us then?”

“We havenae attacked ye. The rightful owner o’ this manor is simply here to take it back.”

Mrs. Woodward snorted. “The master’ll never gi’ it up.”

“Hence the fighting.”

At an impasse, they blinked at each other, each waiting cautiously for the other to act. Hamish bit noisily into his apple. “Who’s fighting?” he asked.

Both women looked at him and smiled. “No one you need worry aboot,” Aileen said. “Now I mun’ go. I just wanted to bring ye the lad to look after.”

The housekeeper nodded. “Aye, thanks.”

Aileen nodded and backed out of the door, heading as quickly as she could towards the sounds of fighting, her thoughts on Barclay and what might be going on with him.

* * *

Gilroy fought dirty. Barclay quickly learned that the gentleman’s rules of dueling would not apply to the battle. As Gilroy brought down his claymore, trying to bash Barclay’s head in, he slid to the side, jabbing his elbow hard into Gilroy’s kidney.

The older man stumbled but did not fall, though Barclay gave no quarter; he came in swinging his sword and slashing through Gilroy’s arm. The man grunted, backing out of reach before taking a knife from his belt and throwing it at Barclay. He heard the shrill whistle of it as it scraped by his ear, only having managed to move his head out of the way just in time.

He narrowed his eyes at Gilroy. “Hidden weapons, is it?”

Gilroy didn’t bother to answer, just lifted his claymore and charged, screaming at Barclay. The echoing ring as iron struck iron reverberated all around the courtyard as they began to spar in earnest, each trying to land a hit on the other.

Gilroy swung his claymore downward and across, trying to sweep Barclay off his feet, but he jumped back, using the time before Gilroy could straighten up to kick him in the head.

He stumbled and almost fell but used his claymore to stop his downward trajectory. Barclay used the opening to come close and punch him in the ribs before lifting his sword, ready to deal him a mortal blow.

Gilroy was bent over and managed to shove his shoulder into Barclay’s belly, unbalancing him. He used the momentum to whirl around, coming at Gilroy from below and swinging his sword upward.

A scream rent the air. “Da!”

Barclay froze, looking towards the sound. His eyes fell on Aileen; beside her stood a young boy, with his mouth fallen open in horror. For a moment, it was as if he saw through the boy’s eyes, and it was his own father, dying.