Page 133 of Claimed Highland Brides

DEAD RECKONING

Barclay lifted his chin, glaring at his uncle. “I’ll leave the noo, but dinnae think this is the last ye’ve heard o’ me. I will be back. And if it’s a fight ye want, I’ll gi’ it t’ye.”

Suddenly, Peadar lunged at him, a sghian dhu in his hand. For a moment, Barclay froze, too shocked to react. Then he heard a piercing scream, and Angus was throwing himself at Barclay’s uncle. He was too far away to intercept the blow that was aimed at Barclay’s heart, but his scream got Barclay moving. He lifted his hand to block the blow, and the sghian dhu sliced right through his palm.

He shouted in shock even as he pushed at Peadar’s face with his other hand and then bent his elbow and hit him in the nose. His uncle stumbled backward, and Angus was on him like a rabid dog. Barclay leaped forward, landing on Peadar’s arm, the one that was clutching the sghian dhu.

Angus cold-cocked him as Barclay kicked the knife out of his hand. Peadar collapsed bonelessly on the wooden floor, his eyes shut. Barclay back away, making sure to kick the sghian dhu under the drinks cabinet before backing out of the room, his eyes never leaving the prone body on the floor. He gestured for Angus to precede him before closing the parlor door behind him.

He leaned against the door briefly, taking a deep breath. “Weel, I suppose that could ha’ gone better.”

Angus laughed. “Aye. Wha’ shall we do the noo?”

Barclay straightened up and began to walk at a fast clip. “First thing, we leave this place. I shall send a letter to my cousins at Drumacree to meet me at Braenaird Castle. If anyone can help me wi’ proof o’ my identity, it’s Murdo Douglass.”

* * *

Aileen ambled slowly down the darkened corridor, wondering what had become of everybody. She’d come back from her afternoon walk to find the keep abandoned. Not even the twins’ piping voices could be heard, nor the pitter-patter of their feet as they ran hither and thither, getting into trouble. Aileen smiled at the thought of them, reflecting on how much light they’d brought to all of their lives. The almost four-year-old twins added the kind of laughter and life to the keep that only children could. And now they had two more children to look forward to with two of her older sisters, Jamesina and Fiona, expecting.

She smoothed down her gown as a gust of wind blew against her slender frame, whipping her dark auburn flyaway hair into her eyes. She jerked her head, trying to get it away.

One of the guards at the gate came hurrying towards her. “Miss Aileen, there’s a man at th’ gate asking for yer faither.”

Aileen’s eyes widened. “Who is it?”

“Says ‘is name’s Barclay. That he kenned Lord Murdo.”

Aileen frowned. “Barclay, ye say?” She bit her lip, thinking. “Did he give ye his surname?”

“Aye. ’Tis MacFarland.”

Aileen gasped, hands flying up to palm her cheeks. “Nooo! Are ye certain? I havenae seen him since I was a wee bairn. I thought he went off to Spain to live wi’ his mother’s people.”

“Indeed, I did,” a deep baritone said from behind her, and she whirled around, eyes traveling up his tall frame to meet his. His dirty-blond hair, sweeping against his shoulders, was tousled, probably from riding. He stood proudly before her, impossibly wide shoulders obscuring her view of the shorter man who stood behind him. Her mouth dropped open.

“Barclay! Ye...got tall.”

He chuckled, voice low and rumbling. “Aye, weel, that happens when ye grow up. “

“Aye.” She looked him up and down. “Ye've done that too.”

He inclined his head to the side, studying her, his slate-grey eyes darkening with curiosity. “Which one are ye? Jamesina or Aileen?”

She laughed, head drooping shyly as she put a hand to her chest. “I’m Aileen.” Her eyelashes fluttered, and her cheeks warmed as she avoided his gaze.

“Aileen!” She risked looking up at him and saw that his face was lit up. “We used to play together as weans. I remember yer kindness after I lost my parents. Ye took care o’ me when I came to stay wi’ ye…after.”

Aileen shrugged. “It wasnae a hardship. I was glad tae do it.”

“Aye. Ye were always like tha’. I remember ye weel.”

Aileen didn’t know where to look. She swallowed hard. “Wha’ did ye want wi’ my da? Is it something I can help ye wi’?”

He frowned. “Is he no’ here?”

“My faither is deid, Barclay. He passed away four years past.”

He reached out and squeezed her arm. “I am sorry for yer loss. I didnae ken. Nobody sent word tae me.”