Page 9 of To Serve a Laird
He smiled. Of course, she had. It was one of the only rooms that was never locked, and she had likely stumbled upon it by accident.
His imagination conjured up another possibility: she had been drawn to it like a moth to a flame. He was about to laugh aloud at the thought, but stopped himself at the last moment. He wanted to watch every move Claire made, especially now that she was wearing nothing but a nightgown, and the light of the candle was rendering it almost transparent.
My god,he thought.She is so lovely.
He could not ever remember feeling so attracted to any of his staff before, but this one was obviously different. She was educated and clearly intelligent, both qualities which added to her desirability in his eyes.
He watched her as she moved along the shelves and stopped at a book she liked, then listened as she read a few lines of it aloud.
“What’s in a name? A rose by any other name would smell as sweet.” She laughed, and Iain wondered why. She replaced the book then moved on to another, which she perused briefly before putting it back.
On and on she went, moving from one category to another; there seemed to be nothing that did not interest her. She obviously had a very inquiring mind for a maid, and the fact that she could read made her almost unique amongst the staff at the castle.
The only other one of his servants who knew her letters was the housekeeper, Agnes, because it was necessary for someone in her position of responsibility. But a maid?
Well, she was English, he thought. Perhaps things were different there.
Claire had been given one tallow candle which was expected to last for a whole week. She knew that this would be nowhere near long enough for the time she wanted to spend reading, and a beeswax candle burned for much longer and did not emit such a foul smell.
Accordingly, she planned to take one from the library. She reasoned that since it was such a huge room it would not be noticed, but she would be careful to take it from the least noticeable place.
The fact that she would be stealing both books and candles did not bother her in the slightest. After the kind of work she had been doing that day and the scolding she had got, she reasoned that she deserved a little reward. The thought of the stinking privies she had been forced to clean made her feel both sick andfurious. By hook or by crook, she promised herself, she had to escape from this horrible place!
She waited until there was no sound from the rooms around her and opened her chamber door as quietly as she could. She had removed her shoes and tiptoed down the passageway, hoping that she could remember the way back to the library.
As it happened, she managed to do so quite quickly, but stood outside for a long time, gathering all her courage and resolve. If there was someone sitting inside, she would be in huge trouble, but she decided to risk it. In a place like this, a life without books was no life at all.
Gingerly, she twisted the handle; the creak of the hinges almost startled her out of her wits, but there was no reaction from inside the big chamber, which was very warm. However, when she looked at the fire, she could see that it had burnt down to glowing embers. A candle still stood on the table by the fire, but it had gone out, having burned down to a stump, and with a sigh of relief she deduced that there was no one there.
Claire had been reading a quote fromRomeo and Julietby William Shakespeare out loud, and laughing because “Rose” and “sweet” were two words that did not go well together at all!
She and Rose definitely loved each other as sisters, but they were always fighting and making up; the slightest thing could lead to an argument. However, it was always patched up with laughter, and at that moment, Claire thought sadly, she would have given everything she owned for an hour in both her sisters’ company.
Claire thought of the last time she had seen Rose as she climbed into her father’s carriage to go to the MacTavish Keep. All three sisters had been weeping painfully, but their father’s eyes were dry; he was impatient to be gone.
He had a heart of flint, and at that moment Claire thought that if she had had a weapon in her hand she might have caused him some serious damage. How she hated him!
She shook the thought out of her head, since it was altogether too painful, then went on with her quest, which seemed impossible, given that she had never seen so many books in her life.
Eventually, Claire found one that interested her, an adventure story about a sailor who was the only survivor of a shipwreck. She also found another story about a queen of Egypt which intrigued her. She had had her fill of romances—reading them only made her long for something she could never have, so she felt that she should broaden her horizons and read another genre.
However, two books were not going to last long, and Claire wanted to improve her knowledge of Scottish history, since she knew very little about it, and thought that it might help her to understand her workmates better. She knew that there was still a lot of bad blood between their countries, but reasoned that the more she knew about what had caused it, the better she could fit in with those around her.
She was concentrating so hard on what she was doing that she failed to hear the footsteps behind her until a deep voice said, “Can I help you?”
Claire squealed in fright and almost dropped the candle she was carrying, but a hand shot out and grabbed her wrist to steady it. However, the books she was carrying were not so lucky. They fell to the floor, scattering everywhere.
As Claire tried to move away, she bumped against one of the shelves, which made some more volumes tumble down and land on the floor, causing a chain reaction that made dozens more follow.
As more and more books began to fall from above her, Claire screamed, but the figure in front of her grabbed her and stood over her, shielding her, then pulled her out of the way, causing her to avoid being struck.
At last, the avalanche stopped, and Claire, too shocked to speak, leaned into the body of the person who had saved her. It was a man, she realised, since she had flattened her hands against his chest and felt the solid muscle under her palms.
Iain, seeing Claire’s progress around the library, decided that he needed to speak to her because he found her so utterly fascinating. He stood up and moved over behind her, barefoot and soundless.
When Claire screamed he was almost as startled as she was, and when the books began to fall he moved instinctively to save her from coming to any harm.
Now she was in his arms, and after taking a moment to steady both of them, Iain gently let her go, then smiled down at her.
