Page 63 of Claimed Highland Brides

18

A RECKONING

T hat hesitation cost him dearly, for Gilroy had no qualms about killing him. He swung his claymore aiming for Barclay’s belly, meaning to cut him in two. Barclay staggered backward just in time and stopped the claymore’s forward motion with his sword, the impact juddering all the way up his arm to his shoulder. He almost dropped his sword, but self-preservation had him clinging stubbornly to it.

He pushed back at Gilroy, kicking out his knees with his heavy boot. As Gilroy stumbled and fell, Barclay pushed down on his throat with his foot. “Do ye yield, or do ye die?”

Gilroy lay on the ground, breath heaving, and glared up at him.

“Yield or die!” Barclay yelled, his thoughts with the small boy watching. He wished Aileen would take him away.

“Ye will never get me to yield,” Gilroy growled, his hand sweeping the ground in search of his fallen claymore. Barclay shoved it further away with his own sword.

“Not even for yer son? Ye would have him watch ye die?”

Suddenly Aileen was by his side, the boy with her. “Da!” he cried in distress.

Gilroy’s face mottled in fury. “Get him oot o’ here!”

One of his soldiers came forward, grabbing the boy and carrying him away as he kicked and squealed, shouting for his father.

“Would ye like tha’ to be the last time ye see yer son? Would ye like it to be the last time he sees ye? Because take it from me, it’ll stay wi’ him, forever.”

That made Gilroy blanch just the slightest bit before his face firmed and hardened. “Ye’ll do what ye mun’ and so will I.”

Barclay exhaled noisily before nodding. “Vera weel then.” He hovered over the man, sword raised, looking into his eyes. After hesitating a while longer, he put the sword down.

“Ye’ll leave my home. Ye’ll do it now. An’ I see ye anywhere near here again, I shall end yer life.”

Gilroy’s shoulders dropped in relief, but he gave no other sign that he’d heard Barclay.

“Do I have yer word?”

“Aye.” The answer was grudging but clear so Barclay stepped back, his sword still raised. Gilroy got slowly to his feet, his eyes never leaving Barclay. He backed away a few steps before stopping.

“Ye’ll allow me to pack?”

“O’ course.” He moved out of the way, leaving some space for Gilroy to pass him by. Gilroy brushed past him, still huffing, and headed to the manor.

* * *

Aileen approached Barclay, looking him over for any injuries. “Is it done the noo?”

Barclay lifted his chin before dropping it, his eyes thoughtfully trained on his step-uncle. “We shall see.”

“What now?”

He turned to her and smiled. “I have my home back. We can move into it.”

Aileen smiled as well, even as her heartbeat accelerated. “Oh, when d’ye want to do tha’?”

“As soon as possible.” He grinned, taking her hand and squeezed it. “I thought that perhaps we might have a proper wedding.”

Anxiety was a tight band around her chest, and she glanced at her brother-in-law before looking back to Barclay. “Are ye sure?”

He peered closer at her, a frown on his face. “Do ye no’ want to?”

She hesitated, wanting to tell the truth but not really sure what that was. “I dinnae ken. I feel as if I’m already marrit t’ye, and to be frank, all tha’ attention on me scares me a bit.”

Barclay barked a laugh. “Oh, I see. For a moment, I thought ye dinnae want to be marrit to me.”

She shook her head, vigorously. “Never. I wouldn’t want that.”

He took a step closer so that they were standing almost nose to nose. “Is that so?”

She stepped back. “Aye. But ye need to have yer wounds tended.” She peered at his side. “Seems ye’re bleeding.”

“I’m fine.”

“Nay, ye’re no’. Come wi’ me to the kitchen so I can borrow some water and a cloth.” She took his hand and began to lead him away. He resisted, making her stop.

“I’m alrigh’.”

Aileen frowned, studying him with narrowed eyes. “What’s wrong?”

“I cannae be showing weakness the noo, ye ken?”

“’Tis no weakness to treat yer injuries!”

“It is to my enemies.”

Aileen sighed. “At least let me take a gander at it, see if ye’re bleeding to death.”

Barclay grinned. “How will ye ken?”

Aileen widened her eyes at him, pleadingly. “Please.”

Barclay sighed, grabbing her arm. “Come wi’ me then.”

He led her around the castle to a secluded bit of wood, just past the well. He stopped, releasing her hand, and turned to her. “Weel, have at it.”

She pulled up his tunic, her hand running along the various cuts, scrapes, and bruises that Gilroy had managed to leave. Lifting her gown, she tore a bit of her shift and used it to wipe away most of the blood.

“Weel? Am I dying?” he asked softly, his eyes steady on her. She looked up and met his look, her hand falling to her side as her ministrations were forgotten. She straightened up; the intensity of his gaze caused her hand to tremble the slightest bit.

“I think ye’ll live,” she whispered.

“The Lord be thanked.” He smirked, leaning towards her. She met his lips with her own, the impact shuddering through her body. She clung to him, hands tight around his neck as his own encompassed her middle like an iron band. He plundered her mouth, giving no quarter nor asking for any.

Slowly, one hand slid down her side, pulling up her gown as he propped her up against a tree. Her legs went around his waist as he loosened the lace of his breeches.

They both groaned loudly as he entered her, hips undulating in circular motions as he went as deep as he could. She bit her lip so as not to scream her joy out into the world and prayed that nobody came searching for them.

A part of her was quietly scandalized at their blatant flouting of convention in this way, but most of her was too lost in the sheer ecstasy of lovemaking to care that anyone could see them if they cared to look.

She threw her head back, mouth open in a soundless scream as her body convulsed, his hot rod still plundering her insides, each jolt jumpstarting a new round of sensation in a never-ending spiral of joy. He emptied himself inside her, and she milked him for every drop, relishing the feel as his spend filled her up.

Her legs shook, and she loosened them, letting them fall to the ground. Barclay kept a secure hold on her so that she did not collapse to the ground in a boneless heap.

“Are ye alrigh’?” he asked softly.

She huffed a laugh, unable to believe he would ask her that when she was still reeling from her orgasm. “I dinnae ken. What does alrigh’ mean?”

Barclay tightened his hold on her. “Nothing. We should go back in case yer brother-in-law is looking for us.”

Aileen gasped, a horrifying image of Daividh coming upon them at the moment, and just knowing what they had been doing crossed her mind. She stumbled backward, out of Barclay’s arms. “Aye, we should go.”

Hurt flashed through Barclay’s eyes as she pulled away from him, but then he smiled and nodded. “Aye.” He turned, leading the way back to the courtyard, as Aileen tried to figure out what she’d done to anger him.

The courtyard was busy with people dragging luggage hither and thither. Barclay came to a stop in front of one of Daividh’s men. “What’s happening?”

He seemed surprised at the question. “Everyone is leaving.”

“Why?”

The soldier simply lifted an eyebrow but said nothing. Barclay hurried to the middle of the courtyard, clapping his hands together. “I ken that I told my uncle to leave, and certainly all of ye may go wi’ him if ye like. But if’n ye’d like to stay, ye’re welcome to.”

Aileen’s heart soared at Barclay’s generosity. Most landowners would have wanted to bring their own people to populate the castle. The bustle in the courtyard seemed to freeze as residents looked at each other, wondering what to do.

Gilroy emerged from the castle, dragging his son after him, and threw a small bag into the waiting carriage. “Ye’d better do as he says,” he announced. “There isnae place for ye in my father’s hoose,” he said brusquely, without so much as a glance at his former courtiers.

Aileen took a step forward, hand raised as Hamish stumbled and almost fell as his father pulled him up into the carriage. Barclay’s hand tight around her wrist stopped her. She turned to face him, mouth open to protest.

“Don’t. It’s his son.”

She closed her mouth again, face stricken as she watched Gilroy and his son ride out of Inchcree. It was bittersweet to see them go. Aileen felt relieved that they had prevailed without significant bloodshed, but she felt worried for her new friend. She had a feeling that his father did not care for him as a parent should.

“Ye cannae save everyone,” Barclay said, and she slid her eyes to him to find that he was also watching the carriage leave. A feeling of warmth surged through her, and she reached for his hand, squeezing it appreciatively.

Daividh came up to them, smiling triumphantly. “’Tis time to claim yer home, Laird MacFarland.”

* * *

“Barclay wants to have a wedding celebration,” Aileen said to Fiona. They had arrived back at Braenaird Castle in the evening, eager to share the news only to find that Fiona had been confined to her bed by the midwife.

“Her feet are too swollen, and she is starting to get tired easily. Ye musnae allow her to do much around the keep,” the woman said to an anxious Daividh.

The laird glared around at them all. “Ye’ve all heard tha’, have ye no’?”

Maisie sniggered. “If’n Fiona wants to do something, who can really stop her?”

Daividh’s eyes narrowed. “I will.”

Jamesina stepped forward. “Dinnae fash. I shall keep her company in bed during the day, and ye shall watch her at night. We’ll make sure she doesnae move.”

The others laughed and then adjourned for supper. As the men retired for brandy and cigars in the library, Aileen had snuck up to see her sister.

“What do ye want, Aileen?” Fiona held her hand, stroking her knuckles comfortingly. Aileen shook her head, swallowing hard as she tried to give an honest answer.

“I dinnae ken. Everything’s happened so fast, I…” She sighed in confusion. “What should I do? Tell me.”

Fiona laughed. “Aileen, ye’re married the noo. Ye mun’ start to make yer own decisions aboot wha’ ye’re going to do.”

“Do ye think it’ll work? That we’ll be happy? Barclay wants to move to Inchcree on the morrow. To have a ceremony by week’s end. Do ye…what…?”

Fiona squeezed her hand. “Calm yersel’, love.” She inclined her head to the side. “Tell me one thing...do ye love him?”

“I think I do. I think I always did. That’s why I jumped when he offered…” She stopped, sneaking an embarrassed peek at her sister. “I thought it would be a way for me to not end up a spinster. I didnae expect…”

“Ye didnae expect him to take ye to wife so thoroughly?” Fiona grinned as if she knew about their tryst in the garden. Aileen blushed.

“Aye.” she paused. “Have you seen those small yellow flowers that grow on cracks on old walls?”

Fiona nodded in the affirmative. “They are beautiful!”

“Yes. But they do not grow in the garden like other flowers. It feels like they are shy… I feel like that Fiona. I am not like you.”

“Only you could have thought such a clever way to despite it! ” her sister said with a smile.

“I thought this whole situation would go one way, and now it’s going another. I dinnae expect to have to change so much and I dinnae ken how to act. I only know how to be me and I am not… what he wants.”

“Oh, Aileen…ye always were reluctant to believe that good things could happen to ye.” She took Aileen’s hands and squeezed hard. “Savor it. Enjoy it. Enjoy yer husband. I have seen the way he looks at you and he is sincere. Dinnae borrow trouble.”

Aileen’s shoulders dropped. “Aye, I’ll try.”