Page 127 of Claimed Highland Brides

He’d felt numb. Unable to feel either relief, remorse, or real grief. It had all happened too fast. One minute he was the son of a loving family, the next, he was alone.

Uncle Murdo had shown up the next day, his eyes soft with compassion.

“Ye’ll come wi’ me, wee lad. I’ll take care o’ ye.”

He simply nodded, relieved that he would not have to be responsible yet. Not for a few more years. Uncle Murdo would make sure the servants were paid, and the rents were collected on his behalf. He could hide in his shell for a bit longer.

“Pack wha’ he needs, and I’ll take him home,” Murdo said to the valet, who hastened to do as he was told. Barclay wondered about his relatives as Murdo was more of a neighbor than blood kin. Even though he had been a bastard child, Hamish MacFarland did have several stepbrothers as well as a father still living.

“Where’s my grandfather?” he asked Murdo as they rattled along in his carriage towards Braenaird Castle.

The laird looked away with a sigh. “He willnae come for ye. His wife said, and I quote, ‘I willnae ha’ tha’ son o’ the de’il in my hoose’.” Murdo shrugged. “I dinnae ken if she was referring tae the chieftain or another de’il.”

Barclay smiled faintly. It didn’t surprise him that he was not welcome in his paternal home. After all, in all eleven years of his life, he’d never even seen his grandfather let alone visited him.

“What will happen to me? What will happen to Inchcree?”

Murdo snaked a hand around his shoulder and squeezed, his face somber and serious. “We will look after ye. Dinnae fash.”

Barclay sighed, leaned back against the seat, and closed his eyes.

* * *

A bundle of cloth and hair threw itself into his arms as he stepped inside the hall of Braenaird Castle. In order to maintain his balance, he was forced to snake his hands around her waist and hold on. At least that’s what he told himself. In truth, he was hungry for human warmth and kindness and was grateful for whoever was trying to squeeze the life out of him.

She stepped back, and he saw that it was Aileen, her eyes brimming with tears. “We wanted to come visit ye, but Ma didnae ken if’n it was safe or no’.”

He nodded his understanding, his throat too choked up to say much. The next thing he knew, he was surrounded by the Douglass sisters. Fiona, the oldest and his nearest age mate, Jamesina who followed her, and the last-born twins, who resembled nothing so much as identical tabby cats with their huge brown eyes and chestnut hair. They all made a fuss over him, entreating him to eat and distracting him with songs and stories. He let himself sink into the comfort of their presence and forgot his troubles for a while.

* * *

“He cannae stay here, Murdo. Ye ken his kin will try tae kill him,” Elspeth Douglass whispered to her husband as they watched the little boy, hunched over in his seat even as their daughters fussed over him.

“I ken it weel, my love. I already wrote to his mother’s people once we kenned for sure that Hamish would die. They are already en route.”

Elspeth sighed, shaking her head. “’Tis a sad business all round.”

“Aye, ’tis. All we can do is keep him alive.”

Barclay did not do anything to indicate that he had heard their conversation, but his heart pounded with hurt and fear at the words.

My grandfather would kill me?

Were it not for the warmth and hospitality of the Douglass family, he would have felt truly alone.

But why would my grandfather want me dead?

The words reverberated in his mind even as he let Aileen coax him into eating some dinner and then sat in the corner while the sisters played an elaborate game of their own devising after the meal.

Soon he was taken to his chambers where he found Angus waiting for him. He didn’t really have a need for a valet, but Angus was more than that to him. He was the very embodiment of Barclay’s childhood. They huddled together on the bed, Barclay unable to close his eyes for fear of what would happen. He startled at every sound and soon gave up on trying to sleep.

Shuffling slowly out of bed, he swung a cloak around his shoulders and slipped out of his room. He walked to the battlements, looking down at the courtyard from there, so far below him. He thought about putting his foot on the balustrade. How easy it would be to slip and fall…and then all his troubles would be over. A footfall behind him made him jump, and he whirled around to see Aileen standing a few feet away, clad in just her nightgown.

“Wha’ are ye doing here?” he asked, almost accusingly.

“Wha’ are ye?” she asked in reply.

He turned away from her, not wanting her to see his despair. She came to stand by his side. “It’s so dark and bleak now. All one can see are mounding shapes that look threatening and loom like shadows.”