Page 47 of To Serve a Laird
The dungeons were the last place Iain wanted to go at that moment, and as he entered, he remembered why. They were situated at the very bottom of the castle, where only a few small windows let in the daylight, and the stench was almost unbearable. They reeked of damp, mice, stale urine andunwashed bodies, and he almost gagged with disgust as he walked along to Dougal’s cell at the darkest end of the corridor.
Dougal was huddled in a corner, seated on a thin straw mattress with a threadbare blanket wrapped around him. He looked up as he heard Iain’s footsteps, and the expression that crossed his face was one of naked fear before he buried his face between his knees.
“Look at me,” Iain commanded, and Dougal raised his eyes to meet Iain’s, which were blazing with rage. “I went to find Claire, and guess what I found. A hideous-looking creature who was bending over her with a knife to her throat. What do you think I did, Dougal?”
Dougal swallowed nervously. “I have no idea,” he lied, his gaze dropping from Iain’s again.
Iain laughed, a harsh, cynical sound. “I think you do.” His voice was throbbing with rage. “I killed him. I almost chopped his head off. He was about to kill the woman I love, but you would not understand love, would you, Dougal? Because I doubt you have ever felt that in your life.
You paid him to kill Claire, did you not? Tell me, was anyone here helping you? I need the truth because if you do not tell me, the consequences will be dire.”
Dougal looked up at Iain, his eyes wide with terror. “No! You cannot mean?—”
Iain’s eyes narrowed. “Tell me,” he said, his voice as hard as stone.
“One of your maids. Her name is Lorna,” Dougal answered, visibly shaking now. “When I saw that you were becoming fond of Claire Tewsbury, I asked her to make her life as miserable as possible so that she would leave your service.”
“That explains a lot,” Iain said, nodding.
Of course, it did. Lorna had been abusive almost from the first time she set eyes on Claire, and Iain had used that to his advantage.
“My trust in you is shuttered. You have sunk very low in my estimation. Never in my worst nightmares would I realise you would plumb the very depths of evil. I thought highly of you before, but after the way you treated me, Dougal, I hate you. The next time I see you will be in a court of law. Goodbye.”
He turned and strode away, still shaking with rage, then Iain realised that Claire was waiting for him, and that was all that was needed to lend wings to his feet and make him sprint upstairs to his bedchamber.
When he opened the door, he saw that Claire had already climbed out of the bath and was wrapped in one of his robes, which was far too big for her, of course. Yet, she looked infinitely appealing, and Iain smiled as he moved towards her, intending to put his arms around her.
However, Claire held a hand out to stop him. “Take your clothes off,” she ordered.
Iain was astonished. “You don’t mean—” he began, his eyes widening with disbelief.
Claire shook her head, giggling. “I mean take those wet and filthy things off before you touch me, then I will scrub your back when you get into the bath.”
Iain sent for another bath, and when it arrived, Claire stepped forward and began to undress him. Once every last one of his filthy clothes was lying on the floor, she looked him up and down, and raised an eyebrow when she saw the solid shaft of his erection pointing at her.
Iain smiled, then sighed ruefully. “He has a mind of his own,” he told her, before placing a soft kiss on her lips.
“Let me wash you.”
Claire helped him into the big tin bath then picked up the sponge and proceeded to clean him, beginning with the aforementioned back. She loved the feel of his rippling muscles under her hands, and before long she became as aroused as he was.
Claire stood up and untied the robe, then let it drop from her shoulders, and climbed into the bath with him.
“The water will spill over the sides,” Iain protested.
“I do not care,” Claire replied as she threw the soaking sponge at him.
Iain remembered the scene that he had visualised all those months ago of him and Claire playfully fighting in the bath. Now his dream was coming true.
Claire was his dream, his love, his life.
“You are truly mad, Claire,” he said fondly, laughing, “but I love you.”
“As I love you,” she replied, giggling as she launched the sponge at him again. “Forever.”
EPILOGUE
On the night before the wedding, Iain and Claire enjoyed their last meal together as single people. After they had finished, Iain smiled at her and lifted her hand to kiss it. “This time tomorrow, we will be husband and wife,” he said softly.
