Page 44 of To Serve a Laird
Agnes turned to him as soon as the dining room door closed behind them. She was twisting her hands and her voice was trembling.
“Claire has gone, M’Laird. She didnae come for dinner, so I went tae see her an’ I couldnae find her. I asked one o’ the guards, an’ he told me she had left. He said she seemed very upset. I thought ye would want tae know.”
“Thank you, Agnes,” Iain said, running his hands backwards through his hair. “You did right.”
“I’m worried about her, M’Laird,” Agnes said, a rare show of emotion for her.
Iain looked outside; it was deep twilight, almost dark.
“She has no idea where she is going… I must find her!” He turned back to Agnes. “Tell my guests I have been called away on an urgent errand and I will not be coming back, for some time, please, Agnes.”
His heart was thumping nineteen to the dozen as he dashed to the stables and mounted his stallion, and after a brief conversation with one of the guards, urged him into a gallop and charged out of the gate.
Don’t be hurt, Claire!he thought desperately.Don’t be dead. I love you. There is no other woman on earth for me.
19
When Claire set out, there was still a little daylight on the horizon, but it was fading fast. She knew she would have to walk quickly to reach the village of Glengar, where she hoped to find a hut or a barn to sleep in.
The days had begun to shorten as winter approached, and she was already cold, even though she was wearing a cloak and a blanket she had stolen from her bed. She had brought as much food as she could steal from the kitchen, enough to last perhaps two days, but after that, she had no idea how she would feed herself.
She tried to concentrate on putting one foot in front of the other, picking her way along the muddy road that she vaguely remembered travelling in the carriage. In a way, she was glad to have something to think about to take her mind off Iain’s betrayal.
In spite of her valiant efforts not to weep, Claire found that she could not help herself, and in no time her cheeks were wet with tears, which she wiped away impatiently with the heel of one hand.
Her little satchel of belongings was becoming heavier and heavier, and as if things could not get any worse, it began to rain in great sheets that soaked her to the skin in no time at all.
Claire sighed, but trudged on. She might be wet, and her heart might be broken, but her body and mind were still strong, and she was determined that no one was going to grind her down. Whatever else she lacked, she was not short of pride and determination, and it was her stubbornness that drove her on when circumstances seemed to rise like a fortress of bad fortune in front of her.
Full darkness had set in by the time she had walked only a mile, and the clouds were covering what would have been the light of a half moon.
You will overcome this, Claire,she told herself.Rose and Amanda always said you are unbeatable when you are determined to do something. They said you have a will of iron. Do not disappoint them. You can do this. How far is the village? Another two miles? You are strong. Your will is stronger than Lorna and Agnes, and you are stronger by far than my Laird Iain Ross!
Claire had tried her hardest not to think about Iain, but he simply refused to leave her mind. Every time she tried to turn her thoughts away from him, he came back and wrapped his arms around her and kissed her so tenderly that she could hardly bear it.
What am I going to do without him?she asked herself, forgetting her resolutions of a few moments before. They had shared heaven together, but now Claire was going through hell.
As the rain intensified, the puddles on the path became deeper; Claire’s feet were soon soaked, and her clothes heavy with mud. Adding to her misery, the ground became extremely slimy and wet, and she slipped and fell on her backside several times. Each time it became harder to get up, and eventually, shehad no more strength left. She tripped one last time, then stayed where she was because she simply did not have the energy to stand.
She crawled towards a tree and sat with her back to it, then burst into a storm of tears. She had been weeping before, but this was a tempest of a far greater magnitude. She let her tears flow down her cheeks unchecked, mixing with the raindrops and making trails down her muddy face.
Her determination and stubbornness had gone, and she finally admitted that she was beaten. If she froze to death here nobody would find her till it was too late, but she had heard that dying of cold was just like going to sleep, so perhaps she would just drift away. She might even go to heaven, she thought wryly.
Claire closed her eyes, and let the biting wind flow over her. There was nothing she could do now, and in a strange way she felt at peace.
Then suddenly a hand clamped over her face and she let out a squeal of fright, as a rough voice spoke in her ear.
“Thought ye’d got away, hen? Well, I’m here tae tell ye tae forget any such idea. Have ye any last words?”
There was a sneering laugh, and as the stranger turned around to face him, she saw his face by the faint light of a small lantern.
He looked like evil personified, with a hooked nose and thin lips, but it was the expression in his dark, beady eyes, which stared at her with such malice, that terrified her most.
“W-what do you want?” she stuttered. “I have no jewels or money. I have nothing of value at all.”
The man threw back his head and laughed heartily. It was a horrible, thin, reedy noise that pierced the air like the sharp point of a needle, and she felt her whole body trembling at the sound.
“I want your life, hen,” he replied, bending closer to her. “Dougal McMahon has paid me very well for it—more than you could dream of giving me.”
