Page 146 of Claimed Highland Brides

INDECISION

It was one thing to make a decision; it was quite another to convey it when Barclay’s face looked so hopeful. She cleared her throat and opened her mouth to tell him that she had thought it over and felt that a marriage between them would be a disaster. But he reached out a hand and closed it around her elbow, peering into her eyes.

“Miss Douglass, how are ye this morning? Did ye sleep well?”

She swallowed the lump in her throat and nodded. His brow furrowed in answer. “Ye look troubled. Tell me.”

She tried taking a deep breath and getting the words out, but they stuck in her throat. She could not look him in the eye and say no to him. Perhaps she could write him a note.

He turned her around, fingers still curled around her elbow, and led her to the stairwell. “I do hope that it was not the nature of my proposal that kept ye from yer rest?”

“Who says I did not rest?” The words escaped her mouth before she could think.

He shrugged. “A wild guess on my part.” He put his hand on his chest, “If I have – again – misspoken, I apologize.”

Aileen felt the words like a dart to her chest.

Does that mean he did not mean to propose to me? What did he misspeak about?

She was too afraid to ask, so she merely nodded and allowed him to lead her meekly to breakfast.

“I must say that I am looking forward to reacquainting myself with ye all. In spite of all the trouble, I am glad it has brought us all together again. Do ye recall the time we ran off to seek our fortunes?” He grinned impishly at her.

She remembered the occasion well. Barclay’s father had admonished him for something or other, and Aileen found him sulking beneath a tree. When she’d asked what the matter was, he’d told her that he was planning on running off. “Come wi’ me. Let us go and make our own fortunes, and then our fathers wilnae be able to tell us what to do.”

Aileen laughed. “Aye, ye were a mere eight years old, and I, still in my leading strings. Ye said we could go to the mines and dig for gold. I was ready to follow ye wi’ nothing but my bare feet.”

Barclay’s eyes were shining as he gazed at her. “I’m surprised ye remember. Ye cannae have been more’n four years old.”

Aileen shrugged. “Aye, weel, I have always been good at recalling things.”

“We always kenned each other perfectly.” His voice was low, intimate sounding, and Aileen shivered, looking away.

“That’s how I ken that ye will marry me.”

Her eyes flew to his, and she shook her head. “Is it really that easy for ye?”

“Easy? No. None o’ this is easy. But I felt that it was the right thing to do, as soon as I asked ye. I kenned it was the right thing.”

Aileen took a deep breath, ready to tell him that she would not marry him. “I need more time,” was what came out instead.

He nodded. “Very weel.”

“Barclay! Buenos dias mi amigo.” Diego grinned as he came striding down the corridor, his brother trailing after him.

“Buenos dias Diego, Antonio. Did ye manage to sleep well?”

“Yes. It is cold in these hills, but the blankets are warm, and the fire was kept well-stoked.” Diego turned to Aileen. “Ze hospitality of your house is highly appreciated.”

Aileen smiled. She enjoyed the curious lilt of the Spaniard’s words that gave a curious romanticism to the English language. Barclay’s accent was a curious amalgam of Scots and Spanish, which made listening to him an enjoyable exercise for Aileen. He spoke Spanish like a native, and she wondered if his knowledge of Gaelic had survived his odyssey. There was just so much she wanted to know about him. Her curiosity was boundless.

They all walked together to breakfast, Diego falling in step beside her while Barclay fell back, to walk with Antonio.

“Tell me something, Aileen, if you will forgive me for asking,” Diego said.

Aileen nodded for him to go ahead.

“Your sister, Maisie, is she promised to anyone?”