Page 4 of To Serve a Laird
The bushes covered the rugged slopes of the hillside with a pinkish-purple haze that blazed in the sunlight. Here and there great grey boulders protruded from the ground, and stands of dark green pine trees stood like sentinels watching over the sheep that grazed on the bright-green grass. Grey dry-stone walls, crafted by the labour of many men, ran along the edges of fields, snaking up and down hills as if they had been drawn with chalk.
In the distance there were majestic mountains whose summits faded into the clouds, and Claire could only wonderhow high they were. Everything in this country was wild, untamed, completely untouched by civilization, and she loved it.
Claire asked Iain who owned the land and the sheep, but received no answer, and she made up her mind that despite being extremely handsome, he was one of the rudest, most despicable men she had ever met. That realisation brought on a rush of fear as she wondered why he had bought her.
Am I going to be his slave?she thought.
She had read enough books to be familiar with the concept of men who bought women merely for sexual gratification.
Now she felt Sable slowing to a walk again, and one of Iain’s arms moved as he placed a hand on her waist, and she gasped in fright. What was he going to do?
As it happened, Claire had nothing to worry about; they were approaching a stony, slippery part of the path, and he was steadying them so that they could pick their way carefully across it. After they had passed over it, a steep hill rose in front of them and Iain tightened his grip on her; she was glad of the extra support, since the slope was sheer and Claire had no head for heights.
For a moment, she closed her eyes, but when she opened them again, she gasped with astonishment. Across a wide valley through which a narrow stream ran, she saw the shape of a building that sprawled over the summit of a low hill.
It was one of the biggest and ugliest structures she had ever seen, and was bristling with fortifications. Its purpose was all too clear; it was a fortress that had stamped its authority on the land all around it. Claire had read about such places in her Gothic novels, but had never believed them to be real.
“What is this place?” she asked.
“Glengar Castle,” he replied, in the same flat tone he had used before.
They rode down the hill, crossed the stream and ascended to the castle by means of a cobbled road. As they approached the portcullis, Claire was astonished to see that it was opened for them without question, and the guards saluted Iain Ross without checking his identity. Clearly he was a person of some importance, she thought.
He swung down from his horse when they reached the courtyard, and reached up to help Claire to dismount.
As her feet touched the ground, she looked up at him and found his ice-blue eyes staring intensely into her honey-brown ones. His hands were still around her waist, and lingered there for a split second before he turned away, letting her go. He handed Sable’s reins to a stable hand, who gave a slight but deferential bow before leading the horse away to the stables.
Claire followed him into the castle, wondering fearfully what was going to happen next. Whenever they passed any of the servants, they bowed to him, and his air of authority was obvious as he strode past them.
Presently, they came to a young redheaded woman who was carrying a broom in her hand. Like everyone else, she bowed.
“M’Laird,” she said respectfully.
“Lorna,” Iain said to her, “this is Claire, the newest maid. Find her a room and give her something to eat.”
Claire suddenly realised who this man was. She knew from her sister’s letters that a Laird was a very powerful landowner. In fact, Rose had married Laird Cormac MacTavish and had the title of Lady MacTavish. She had never met Rose’s husband, but from her description, he was similar to this man, since they were both powerfully built and handsome. She wondered if all Scottish Lairds looked like them!
2
Lorna did not look back as she moved swiftly along the corridor, leaving Claire to keep up with her as best she could, since she was not accustomed to the narrow hallways of servants’ quarters. She was carrying her bag, which had become considerably lighter since she had lost her books, but was still heavy, and was so tired she was practically dragging it along the floor.
Somewhere along the way, she had ripped her muddy skirt and was holding it up to stop herself from tripping over it, making her completely unbalanced. She stumbled once or twice, but still Lorna carried on walking, even though she could hear Claire struggling along behind her.
The passage seemed endless, and was becoming darker and darker as they proceeded further along it. It had very few windows, and the few that Claire could see were tiny and their light too feeble to pierce the dimness. The very sight of the place depressed her, and when Lorna opened the door to her room her spirits sank to the floor.
The room was tiny, only big enough for a narrow cot and a small cupboard in which she was obviously expected to keep all her worldly goods. Claire did not possess much, especiallynow that her books were gone, and she only had a few spare clothes with her, but she doubted that there was space in the tiny chamber for much more than her own body!
There was a bucket of cold water and a piece of thin fabric that was no doubt meant to act as a towel, but it was worn thin with much use. Claire sighed, and her disappointment and disgust must have shown in her face because Lorna gave her a scathing look.
“I will get ye a dress. Stay here an’ wait.”
Claire sat down on the cot, feeling the springs digging into her through its thin mattress; she had no idea how she would cope in this hostile, hellish place, which was worse than anything she had ever imagined. If the attitude of all the other servants was the same as Lorna’s, Claire knew she was going to have a very hard time of it. Her English accent would not help either, since there was still much resentment between the two nations.
She was unpacking the meagre possessions in her bag and laying them out on the bed when Lorna came back and tossed a worn dark brown dress and an apron on the bed. Claire picked up the dress and looked at it in horror. Whoever had worn the dress before her must have been much bigger than she was because it was several sizes too large.
“It’s too big,” she protested.
Lorna gave an irritated sigh. “For god’s sake!” she snapped. “Can ye no’ use a needle an’ thread?” She frowned deeply at Claire, and after a moment she regarded her with an expression of disbelief. “Dinnae tell me ye cannae sew.”
