Page 27 of To Serve a Laird
“I thought about it seriously for a while at the beginning,” Dougal answered. “But I was never brave enough.” He sighed. “But I think you want or need more excitement, more danger. I have tried to persuade you otherwise, but I know I’m wasting my breath. You are a grown man with a mind of your own.”
The two men sat uneasily for a few more moments, then Dougal stood up. He swallowed the remainder of his wine, then said, “If you continue to resist, the council will take action to force you.”
Iain glared at the other man. “What kind of action?” he demanded.
“You will find out,” Dougal replied with a dark frown. “I can do nothing by myself, but the council is becoming impatient.” It was a threat, but Iain had been threatened before.
“Do your worst,” he cried. “Now get out of my sight!”
Dougal gave Iain a brief nod, then left without saying goodbye.
Having let off a lot of steam, Iain felt strangely relaxed, and was able, for the first time in days, to concentrate on his work—for a while.
When it was time for his afternoon meal to be brought to him, he looked up hopefully, his heart thudding, to see if Claire was delivering it. However, it was one of the other maids, and after that leap of hope and disappointment, he lost his focus altogether.
The memory of Claire’s kiss came back to him; the softness of her lips, the sweet taste of her mouth, the irresistible musk of her skin, and her pliant body against his. The thought of it madehim harden and throb, and he was so distracted he completely lost his appetite.
He ate half his meal and sent the other half back to the kitchen. He thought laughingly that at least it would not go to waste, since the pigs would likely eat it with great enjoyment.
In some ways, he envied them. Life must be so simple for animals: no regretting the past, worrying about the future. Life was for living in the present moment, and in many ways that was far better.
Claire somehow got through the day, though she did not know how. She was exhausted by the time she went to her chamber, but even though she tried as hard as she could, sleep would not come. She looked at her books.
She had read the first three, but after that, she had picked out a few romances, and she had no idea why because she could not finish any of them. Love and kisses were the last things she wanted to think about! It was bad enough trying to hide from the Laird all day without bringing reminders of him into her bedroom.
Claire had replayed their kiss in her mind so many times it was almost like a kind of sweet torture because it only made her long for more.
Perhaps an exciting adventure story would be just the thing, she thought. She would not normally have chosen that kind of tale to put her to sleep, but she had tried everything else.
Accordingly, Claire crept along to the library, hoping against hope that it would be empty. The Laird had given her permission to take what she liked at any time, so the door was unlocked. Shegave a great sigh of relief when she found the big room empty. The fire was cold, and no candles had been lit.
Claire moved along to the shelf where she knew the books she sought were kept, then held up her candle so that she could look through the names, and for the first time that day she felt at peace. Books always soothed and delighted her, taking her into fantasy worlds where she could roam without fear, letting her sail ships on the open sea, ride on winged horses and travel to the moon.
She had just opened a tale about a night who was on his way to rescue the love of his life from an evil bandit when she was startled by a noise behind her. It was the creaking of the library door opening, and Claire whipped around and looked into the last pair of eyes she wanted to see.
It seemed that the Laird had had the exact same idea as her. When Iain suddenly saw Claire, whose eyes were wide with shock, standing in front of him with a candle in one hand and a book in the other.
Iain raised his eyebrows and smiled at her slowly, wickedly. She was the last person he had expected to see, but it was a delightful surprise. He felt something twist inside him, and a dark pleasure began to overtake him.
He could describe it in only one word: hunger. He wanted Claire, and no other woman would do. He would never force himself on her, of course—he had to be more subtle.
He inched closer, and saw her backing up against the bookshelves. He had expected some reaction from her, but there was none, not even a flicker; her expression was absolutely indifferent.
“Claire,” he said softly. “If you keep reading at this rate, I will have to get more books for my library.”
Claire pasted on a smile, then said, “I will do my best to read slowly, my Laird.”
She shifted sideways to edge around Iain and escape, but at the same moment he leaned in to pluck a book from the shelf. His hand brushed her hip, sending a tingle of awareness all over her body, and she gave a gasp as Iain’s body came into contact with hers, so close that their lips were almost touching.
“We must stop meeting like this, Claire,” he said, laughing, his deep voice even lower and darker than usual.
“If I had known you were here, I would not have come, my Laird,” Claire said awkwardly, avoiding his eyes.
“Not very flattering, Claire,” he observed. “Are you trying to avoid me?”
At that moment, Claire looked up. Her whole being was aching for him, and she leaned in a little towards his lips, which were so close to hers. Then, abruptly, she ducked under Iain’s arm and made a dash for the door. He turned to watch her, laughing softly.
So you like to play games, Claire?he mused.Well, so do I. Let's have some fun!
