Page 135 of Claimed Highland Brides

ABANDON ALL HOPE

Barclay sank onto the bed with a sigh, his hands covering his face.

“Sir? Dinnae lose hope. There might still be something we can do.”

Barclay looked up, his expression bleak. “Like what?”

“Ye were searching for Murdo because he would be able to identify ye. Perhaps he left something…like a letter or…an heirloom that might help ye. Yer faither and he were close. If’n anyone had something like tha’ it’d be he.”

Barclay blinked several times, taking in his manservant’s words.

Angus just might be right.

He shot to his feet and headed for the door and was surprised when Angus blocked his way. “Let us clean ourselves up and wait for the supper bell, sir. The laird isnae here, and Miss Douglass is unlikely to ken where the scripts are.”

Barclay hesitated before nodding. “Aye, ye’re right.”

Right on cue, there was a knock on the door, and three servants—including the maid Aileen accosted on the stairs—came in carrying a tub and buckets of hot and cold water. Barclay nodded his thanks as the servants left them to it. He realized he was quite exhausted not just from the journey but the emotional toll of seeing his home again.

As Angus poured water into the tub, he divested himself of clothing and sank gratefully into the very hot depths. “Ah, this is wha’ I needed.” He leaned back and closed his eyes, breathing a sigh of relief.

“Shall I wash ye then, sir?” Angus sounded amused.

“No, thank ‘e.” He didn’t open his eyes as he replied, waving Angus away, “Ye may go and seek yer own ablutions.”

Angus snorted. “Aye, sir. I’ll see ye after dinner then?”

“I suppose so. Dinnae be trying to sow yer wild oats among the servants, mind.”

Angus laughed. “I shall behave mysel’. Ye do the same. I saw ye watchin’ Miss Douglass.”

Barclay opened his eyes to glare at Angus. “These are good Scottish lassies, Angus.”

“I didnae say they werenae.” Angus quickly left the room before Barclay could retort. He snorted in disgust before closing his eyes again and resuming his enjoyment of the water. Now that she had been brought again to mind, Barclay found it difficult to dismiss Angus’s words.

For so many years, Aileen’s words had echoed in his mind, comforting a wee lonely boy in a strange land, surrounded by people who had different habits and a different language. If it were not for Angus, Barclay believed he would have ended his life in those first years.

Her eyes are the same.

A green so dark it was almost black; she was like a pond with unfathomable depths. To see beyond the opaque exterior and plunge down deep was a blessing. He’d seen a glimpse of the person she was after his father had died and he had come to the keep. That glimpse had sustained him, and if he was honest, he had hoped he would see her again when he returned.

The painful memories he’d carried with him seemed to echo in every hill and dale he rode past from Inchcree to Braenaird, each one evoking a sensation he was not ready to face. He had to, however, because his parents were relying on him to preserve their memories. Their legacy.

His brow furrowed as he thought about his step-uncle and how rundown he had let Inchcree get. He had to find a solution and fast before there was nothing left to save. Taking a deep breath, he reached for the cloth and began to soap himself. He needed to make himself presentable and also have some sort of plan that would help him obtain the current laird’s help. He regretted now that he had not asked Aileen more questions about him.

* * *

Diego downed his beer before looking up. He blinked, wondering if he was seeing double. Looking around for his brother, he realized that the double vision only occurred when he was looking at a certain young lady. He took a breath and turned back, realizing that, yes, there were two of the doe-eyed, chestnut-haired beauties.

“Dios mio,” he murmured in wonder.

Just as he was trying to decide what to do about this development, his brother walked into the inn, looking determined and brandishing a script. “We have to go, Diego.”

“Qué pasa?”

Antonio thrust the script at him. “Barclay has run into trouble. He has gone to this place, Braenaird Castle. We are to meet him there.”

Diego frowned, the twins immediately dismissed from his mind. “What happened?”