Page 45 of To Serve a Laird
He produced a dagger whose lethally sharp blade glinted in the pale light of the lamp.
“Dougal…” she muttered. Why would he?—
But then she remembered how much he had fought over with Iain to get him to marry. He was behind everything. He had guessed her feelings for Iain and wanted her out for good.
The awful man could have murdered her without speaking a single word, but he was taking a sadistic pleasure in drawing out the moment, enjoying the terror on Claire’s face.
A moment before, Claire had been about to surrender her life to the cold and wet Scottish weather, but now it seemed that some instinct was spurring her on not to give it up.
She suddenly wanted to live, she did not stop to ask herself why, but stepped forward and stamped on the evil man’s foot as hard as she could.
He yelled and swore at her, unable to move for a moment. Claire turned to run, her heart pounding in terror, but again the mud was her undoing. She had taken no more than a few steps before she slipped and fell on her face.
She felt a sharp pain in her knees, which had hit the ground first, but she tried to scramble to her feet despite the agony. Then she cried out as she felt a cruel hand pulling her hair to wrench her head back, and she heard herself scream as she saw the glint of the dagger in front of her eyes.
By the time Iain had gone half a mile he was soaked, but he had no intention of turning back. All that was on his mind was Claire.Was she lost? Had she fallen and hurt herself? Had bandits taken her?
The darkness around them was almost impenetrable, and the flame of his lantern was guttering as if it would go out at any moment.
Damn!he thought.This is all my fault. I chased her away. If I had told Claire how much I love her, perhaps she would have stayed.
He rode on, yelling her name as fiercely and loudly as he could, reasoning that she could not have gone far in these conditions, but terrified that she was lying unconscious and freezing somewhere.
He refused to countenance the possibility that she was dead. His lantern was almost out, and he was terrified that he would miss her.
“Claire!” he called. “Claire! It’s Iain! Come out! Come back! I love you!”
The sound of the wind was carrying his voice away, making it almost inaudible, but he had to keep trying. He was beginning to panic when he saw movement out of the corner of his eye. It was only a flicker, barely visible, but it was enough.
Then he saw the sight he had been dreading. A man was bending over Claire with a dagger poised at her throat, ready to slice into it.
Startled, the would-be murderer looked up, but it was too late. Just as the dagger touched Claire’s skin, Iain brought his sword down onto the back of his neck with all his weight and strength, almost decapitating him. He died with an agonised scream.
Iain had acted instinctively, without thinking, and now he pushed the body away from Claire and raised her to her feet, then took her in his arms with a huge sigh of relief.
She was trembling uncontrollably, but he said nothing, just held her as he felt her arms going around his waist, her head leaning on his shoulder.
“Who was that? Why did he attack you?”
“Dougal…. He sent someone to… to…” Claire murmured at last, her voice trembling.
“That old bastard!”
He was socked, but not so much. Now he could see just who the real Dougal McMahon was. And he would make sure he got what he deserved for betraying him like that.
“Iain…”
Claire tried to thank him, but the words would not come out, so she closed her eyes and inhaled the comforting scent of his body, and heard the deep rumble of his voice as he spoke.
“Why did you leave me?” he asked softly, tilting her chin up so that she was looking at him.
“I had to go,” she replied. “I could not watch you with someone else, Iain.” She had been looking into his eyes, but now she dropped her gaze to the ground. “Let me go. I hope you and Lady Morag have a good life together.”
She tried to turn away, but Iain gripped her arm and stopped her.
“Is that what you want, Claire?” he asked, tilting her chin up. “Look at me. Do you think I could possibly be happy with anyone but you?”
“But I am a nobody—” Claire began, but she was silenced.
