Page 20 of To Serve a Laird
Do not argue with me,it said.
When Iain smiled at the old lady, her wrinkled face broke into an answering smile. “How are ye, M’Laird?” she asked pleasantly. “Anythin’ I can dae for ye?”
“Yes, Mary,” Iain replied. “Take a look at Claire’s hand, please.”
He stepped back and pulled up a chair for her. She sat down, feeling distinctly awkward under the penetrating gaze of the healer, and kept her gaze on the ground.
She was all too well aware that Iain had his hand on the back of her chair and was watching every move the old woman made. He was so close that she could feel the heat of his body, smell his familiar musk. His nearness was making her tremble with awareness, and she fidgeted as her hand was washed with warm wine, then the healer placed a pad of soft linen over it.
“Keep that there,” Mary instructed. “I am goin’ tae make a salve for this. Excuse me, M’Laird.” She left to go to the medicine room, where she mixed all her potions.
Claire looked up at Iain. “Thank you, my Laird, but this is just a little cut. I could have cleaned it up myself.”
“I know that,” he replied, “but I am the Laird here, and I want it done properly.” He laughed. “The healer will have nothing to do otherwise.”
He had been about to make a joke about the fact that he had paid a lot for her and wanted to get his money’s worth. At the last minute, however, he changed his mind, realising that such a jest would be in very poor taste and would likely hurt her feelings.
Claire felt herself beginning to tingle, to respond to his nearness in a way that she had never done with any other person, especially any other man, in her whole life. What was happening to her, she wondered?
Rose had told her about how she felt just before she and Cormac made love for the first time—but no. Rose and Cormac were in love. How could she, a girl who was only on the fringe of womanhood, have fallen in love with a man she hardly knew?
I am being swayed by a handsome face and a little kindness,she told herself.He deserves better than me. I cannot even scrub floors properly. What good would I be to a man like this?
Yet, Claire knew that was her head, her logical self, talking. Her heart, her body, the animal side of her, were thinking different thoughts entirely.
“Thank you for your help today,” Claire said. “I have no idea what I would have done if you had not come along. All those little plants would have died, and I would have been in trouble—again.”
She bowed her head in a deliberate attempt to avoid his eyes.
Iain frowned. “Again?” he asked, frowning. “Claire, what do you mean?”
Claire bowed her head and put her hand over her eyes. “My Laird,” she said huskily. “I would rather not say any more. I am learning what to do, and I’m sure after a while my life will become easier as I become better at my work.”
He looked at her for a moment, then a slow smile spread across his handsome face.
“You know, I was a warrior,” he told her, before he rolled up his sleeve and showed her a long white scar that ran from his elbow almost down to his wrist. “I practised for hours every day almost since the time I could walk. Yet, I still received this from a member of one of our rival clans. We are not perfect, Claire. Not one human being ever born is. I lived to fight another day, but I lost that battle.”
He tilted her chin up. “It takes practice and perseverance to achieve your goals, and I know you have plenty of that. Look how hard you tried to get your books and your writing materials, but you succeeded in the end.”
He reached out to brush a smear of dirt from her cheek, and she blinked in surprise. Those words were meant to advise her, but they were strangely comforting. Then she laughed softly.
“No, I did not, my Laird. You allowed me to take those things from you.”
“And why do you think I did that?” he asked pointedly.
Claire shrugged. “I have no idea, my Laird.”
“Because I could see that you wanted them so much,” he replied. “Especially the pen and quills. It would have been heartless of me to refuse to give them to you.”
“Yet I was stealing them from you,” Claire pointed out. “I expected to be punished.”
“And what would that have achieved?” he asked, his voice gentle. “You would have lost a day’s pay, and that means it would have taken you one day longer to achieve your goal.”
Suddenly, Claire felt bitterly angry. Just when she had thought she was beginning to know and like Iain Ross, he had reminded her of what a lowly position she occupied in his household.
“My goal of achieving my freedom?” she asked, raising her gaze defiantly to his again. “I assure you, my Laird, when I set my mind to achieving something, I always manage it. Always! So the loss of one day’s pay is not going to deter me in the slightest. I have achieved many things in my life which no one expected me to, and I will achieve this.”
“And what else did you accomplish?” Iain asked, frowning.
