Page 132 of Claimed Highland Brides

“Aye. And I just so happen to be available, and so I can start at once.” Angus blinked as he kept his eyes on Barclay, his face serious.

Antonio grinned at him. “A man who knows what he wants. I like him. Take him on, primo.”

Barclay grinned. “Alright. I’ll take ye on. Where’s yer ma the noo?”

Angus’s face dropped. “Deid. The consumption, twa years past.”

Barclay nodded somberly. “Condolences.”

“I’ll just go and collect my belongings.”

“Aye. We’ll be here.”

Angus hadn’t known at the time if he was making a mistake or not but had taken charge of them with startling efficiency, making sure Barclay’s clothes were clean, negotiating the best rates at inns they stayed in, and attending to all of Barclay’s needs. He was an excellent manservant.

The door opened, and Peadar came in. “I am told ye claim to be a nephew of mine?” he began without preamble. “I have met all my nephews, and ye’re no’ one o’ them.”

Barclay got to his feet. “My name is Barclay MacFarland. My father was Hamish MacFarland, and this is my property.”

Peadar sneered, “And ye have evidence of this? As far as we know, Barclay MacFarland was killed along wi’ his parents in a raid. Ye are an imposter.”

Barclay saw red. “How dare ye!”

“Weel, do ye have any proof? If not, I will thank ‘e to get oot o’ my hoose.”

Barclay pointed at his manservant. “Angus can vouch for me. He kens who I am.”

Peadar turned to Angus, looking him up and down before dismissing him. “I dinnae ken who this man is. I have nay reason to believe him. Now get oot before I fetch my men and have ye thrown oot.”