Page 30 of To Serve a Laird
“Are you hurt?” Iain asked anxiously.
Claire shook her head, attempting a weak smile. “No, I am fine, my Laird,” she replied, trying to rise to her feet.
Iain took both her hands in his and gently helped her up.
“Are you sure?” he asked again, and his eyes held so much concern that Claire was touched.
“I really am all right,” she replied quietly.
“If you feel sore anywhere, go to the healer and tell her I sent you,” he instructed.
He looked angry, still trying to calm down from the vicious encounter with Dougal, and it occurred to her that she might not be the only one who was wounded.
“How are you, my Laird?” she asked him cautiously. “Did he upset you?”
To her shock, he glared at her suddenly and snapped, “We are not talking about me. I am fine. No need for concern.”
His face was still thunderous with rage, and Claire felt hurt that her enquiry after his health had been met with such an ungrateful response.
Claire nodded and began to clear up the mess on the floor, but she had become distracted and careless, and inflicted more cuts and grazes on herself. She ignored the pain, however, unwilling to invite more of Iain’s censure. Then she gave an unconscious gasp as a shard of the pot cut her skin deeper than any of the others.
“What have you done?” Iain came over to her side again to inspect the new injuries to her hands, but Claire was in no mood to be pacified.
“I am fine, my Laird,” she replied. “There is no need to worry about my cuts and bruises. I am only one of your servants, after all, and we suffer these kinds of injuries every day. Do not concern yourself with me.”
Iain frowned and tried to grab Claire’s hand again, but she snatched it back and glared at him.
“I am quite well, my Laird,” she said angrily, reaching for another piece of broken crockery, only to cause another cut.
Claire gave a quick gasp and put her finger in her mouth, then took it out again to resume her work.
Dammit!Iain thought.
He felt wretched that Claire had reached out and asked about his welfare and he had responded by snapping at her.
Iain, you are a nasty piece of work sometimes.
Iain knelt down by her side and took her hand tenderly in his. She was bleeding from an inch-long cut on her middle finger, and her face was screwed up with pain.
Iain took out his handkerchief to clean up the blood.
“I am so sorry you are hurt because of me, Claire.” His voice was husky, and he was frowning regretfully.
“It’s not your fault,” she replied. “I was clumsy. You are not to blame.”
“I would never hurt you.” Iain looked deeply into her eyes then, to her shock, he kissed the bleeding finger. He helped her to her feet.
“I will take you to the healer.”
Claire shook her head. “No, my Laird. There is no need for a fuss. It’s only a little cut, and I can go there myself if I need to.”
“Then go now,” Iain ordered firmly.
“But truly, there is no need.”
Claire was becoming irritated. That was when Iain did something utterly shocking; he wrapped his arms around her and hugged her close to him.
Claire was about to push him away, but his warm strength seeped into her, and she made no move to fight him. She was tense, however. After all, this was the man who owned her.
