Page 32 of To Serve a Laird
His eyes were dark with fury, and Claire took an involuntary step backwards as he moved around his desk and strode towards her.
“Take the rest of the day off and, for god’s sake, get out of my sight.”
That was the moment that Clare’s anger rose to meet his, and, forgetting her place entirely, she said furiously, “Youwanted me to be your personal attendant—if you don’t trust me to do it then tell me now and give me something else to do!”
“Donotmake me angry, Claire,” he ordered, his blue eyes blazing with fury. “You will do as I tell you when I tell you. Now go! I would rather not see you again till tomorrow.”
She stood in front of him, unflinching, while they glared at each other, then Iain pushed past her and strode out. He was still fuming with anger, but he was already regretting lashing out at Claire. She was only trying to help him—was she not?
The thought of sending her away was unbearable. All day long he had been trying but failing to stop watching her as she worked. His eyes followed her every movement, and yet her eagerness to see him married enraged him.
Ever since their kiss he had been aching to touch her again, and today he had been so close, but she had broken the spell, and now he was filled with frustrated lust and fury.
Consequently, he was not in the best frame of mind when he almost collided with Agnes. As soon as she saw him, she frowned deeply, then took a step sideways, deliberately standing in front of him and blocking his way. Iain treated her to a fierce glare, and was about to ask her to move out of his way when she spoke.
“M’Laird,” she said firmly, “I passed Mr McMahon earlier. He told me that the castle needs a lady, an’ I agree wi’ him. It is past time. Ye are no’ gettin’ any younger.” Her cheeks were flushed with rage.
Iain was so stunned at the sheer cheek of the woman that it took a moment for him to calm down enough to reply. “You seem to have forgotten who is the Laird here, Agnes,” he said furiously. “My marriage is my own business, not yours, and if I hear one more word from you about this matter, you will be seeking work elsewhere. Do you understand?”
Agnes took a step backwards, her eyes wide with fear. “Yes, M’Laird,” she whispered. “I-I was only tryin’ tae help.”
“I do not need your help,” Iain snapped. “Now get back to work.”
He pushed Agnes out of the way, then marched outside. The only thing that could help him get his mind off things now would be some strenuous physical exertion.
He quickly stripped off his shirt and coat, almost tearing them both. He dragged out one of the straw dummies used for sword practice and attacked it savagely, pretending it was the face of his worst enemy, who at that moment was Dougal McMahon.
He hacked, thrust, and stabbed till his arms ached, feeling the fury and frustration pour out of him as if it were the straw that was bursting out of the dummy. Again and again he struck, letting out roars and screams of rage until it had completely disintegrated and all that was left was a heap of dried grass on the floor. However, although Iain had vented much of his spleen on the unfortunate dummy, he was still not satisfied.
What he really wanted to do was attack each member of the council who thought they could bully him into marrying in the same way, but what he desperately desired was something else—no, someone else—altogether.
Why did they not consider what he wanted? No one seemed to care about him at all, only the future of the clan.
He gave a roar of pure rage as he continued his ruthless attack on the pile of straw on the stone floor.
Claire had thought about it a lot and decided that she could not leave the Laird alone. She had been rudely dismissed by him, and although she had been hurt and angry at his treatment, she refused to retreat.
Instead, she followed Iain and was watching from just inside the main entrance to the castle, standing just out of sight. His face was a mask of rage. She saw him taking out his broadsword—a sharp one this time—and begin to hack at the unfortunate dummy viciously, not stopping until it was completely destroyed. Claire almost felt sorry for it!
What is he doing?she thought.Could this be about me? No, it can’t be. I am nothing to him. I am not the love of his life just because he kissed me Men are different to us—kisses mean little to them. I was just there, and it meant no more to him than that. I mean nothing… or do I? Damn! What is wrong with me?’
Claire waited, out of sight, until Iain gave up after his assault of the straw dummy. He passed her without noticing her. As soon as she saw the direction he was going in, she began to follow him at a discreet distance, realising that he was heading for the library.
As soon as the door closed behind him, Claire moved to stand outside, taking deep breaths to focus and gather her courage before she turned the handle and stepped inside.
15
Iain was pouring himself a tumbler of whisky when the object of his thoughts entered. It looked as if he were going to fill the whole tumbler with the strong, fiery spirit, and she almost opened her mouth to tell him to stop, then she thought better of it.
He had been so enraged when he chopped the straw dummy to pieces that she was afraid some of that anger was still with him, and he might use it against her. She doubted he would hit her, but she was just as disturbed by his roars of rage.
“Claire,” Iain said irritably, “Today is not a good day for your games—please take your books and go.”
During the whole time he had been speaking, Iain had not turned to face Claire, but had resolutely kept his back to her.
In truth, he was afraid, not of Claire, but of himself. She was standing in front of him dressed in simple maid’s clothes, but she still managed to look as if she had just stepped out of one of his dreams.
And then, he felt furious again that he was not being given the chance to choose his own bride and follow his own path to happiness. He was a senior member of the clan, but he was being dictated to, ordered around like a servant, a child or a pet dog.
