Chapter 14
Claire was not used to being a man’s maid.
It was quite a different kind of work from that which she usually did, which was extremely physical and tiring, but left her time to think and dream.
However, looking after Iain Ross was not monotonous by any means.
There seemed to be something different to do every five minutes, and as well as that, there was the distraction of the man himself.
It was extremely difficult to avoid feasting her eyes on him at every opportunity.
She poured his tea and fetched him considerable quantities of food, but when she placed them in front of him, she was always acutely aware of his nearness. Claire tried as hard as she could not to touch him, and always kept a short distance between them.
As she was in the middle of all the sweeping and dusting, she thought again about the confrontation between Dougal McMahon and Iain; she had never actually seen two men fighting before—it had seemed almost primitive, like two stags fighting over a doe.
But what had they shouted at each other?
That intrigued her more than anything else, and gave her a better idea of just why Iain Ross sometimes looked so angry.
The elders—who she had learned were imperative for the clan—were clearly trying to pressure him into marrying someone, and he was obviously resisting.
This was something Claire understood because she had seen a few of her own acquaintances married to men they actively detested, and their lives were miserable as a result.
Yet, Iain Ross’s circumstances were vastly different to hers. He was a Laird with a duty to his clan, so surely he was not holding out for a love match? Perhaps he had also been reading too many silly romances.
Then she had another notion. Could it possibly be because of her?
Surely not as a wife, but Dougal had suggested a mistress, implied that Iain already had a lover and suggested that he take “a whole harem” of them.
It did not sound like the advice of a person who was concerned about Iain’s happiness.
She felt the urge to ask him more. “Mr McMahon seemed very upset, my Laird,” she said carefully. “Are you quite all right after your disagreement?”
“Fine,” he replied, hardly looking up from his work.
“I wondered why you do not wish to be married,” she persevered, trying to sound matter-of-fact.
Again, Iain stayed focused on his work. “I have my own reasons,” he replied.
In truth, he was trying to keep his eyes off Claire because she was distracting him in a quite inappropriate way.
Claire had been cleaning the wooden floor, but after a while she had to stand up and stretch her aching back. As she got to her feet, she put her hands on the small of her back, pulling her shoulders behind her and thrusting out her chest.
Her gaze strayed to Iain, who was staring at her intently, his lips parted, eyes focused on her breasts.
Claire was astonished, and her instinctive response was to straighten up and cross her arms over herself.
However, something inside her refused, and she stayed in the same position for a few more moments, pretending not to notice.
She felt triumphant and powerful, seeing that this big handsome man was absolutely transfixed, but she herself was becoming aroused, feeling a pleasant throbbing between her legs. Gradually she lowered her shoulders then looked him in the eye, meeting his sky-blue eyes fully.
Iain had been trying to ignore Claire’s presence in his room by throwing himself into a pile of correspondence, but no matter what he did, he was acutely aware of her.
When she leaned close to him to place a tray on his desk, a thrill shot through him, making his shaft harden almost painfully.
She was so, so tempting, and Iain had been starved for the pleasure of a woman’s touch for so long that he would have happily taken her right there and then if she had allowed him.
And yet, there was more. Everything about Claire Tewsbury was fascinating—her character, her sense of humour, her intelligence.
As their gazes met, a current of something infinitely powerful crackled between them, and they were mesmerised by each other as amber eyes gazed into sky-blue ones, both unable to look away for a moment.
Claire broke the spell first as she dropped to the floor again and began to scrub it furiously.
Her cheeks were flaming, and her feelings of desire mixed with embarrassment almost overcame her.
However, she persevered with her work, although she thought she could feel Iain’s eyes on her every moment, almost as though his hands were caressing her.
She sneaked surreptitious glances at him from time to time, but their eyes did not meet again, since he seemed focused on his work. If she had known the truth, she would have discovered that he had lost all concentration and was desperately trying not to look at her.
At last Claire could scrub the floor no longer, and she stood up again. Iain looked up suddenly, hoping that she would stretch her back again, but he was disappointed, since she merely smiled at him.
“Am I doing good enough work for you, my Laird?” she asked. “If I can do better, please tell me.”
“You are doing well,” he answered, shrugging. “I have nothing to complain about.”
“That is good to hear. Thank you.” She frowned.
“You must know that I heard everything that went on between you and Mr McMahon this morning, and I feel that I could help you further if I knew why you are resisting the idea of marriage so much. Is it because the elders have picked someone for you whom you dislike?”
“I really do not think that is any of your business, Claire,” he snapped, his good mood suddenly fading away. “You were not meant to hear what went on between Dougal and me. It was unfortunate that you did, but if I hear it being gossiped about, I will know who started it.”
“Whatever I hear within these four walls stays here, my Laird,” Claire stated firmly. “Have they chosen someone for you yet, or are they still looking, perhaps giving you options? Are there no ladies you like?”
Despite his attraction to her, Iain was now thoroughly enraged with Claire. “Whether I marry has absolutely nothing to do with you.”
His eyes were dark with fury, and Claire took an involuntary step backwards as he moved around his desk and strode towards her.
“Take the rest of the day off and, for god’s sake, get out of my sight.”
That was the moment that Clare’s anger rose to meet his, and, forgetting her place entirely, she said furiously, “You wanted me to be your personal attendant—if you don’t trust me to do it then tell me now and give me something else to do!”
“Do not make me angry, Claire,” he ordered, his blue eyes blazing with fury. “You will do as I tell you when I tell you. Now go! I would rather not see you again till tomorrow.”
She stood in front of him, unflinching, while they glared at each other, then Iain pushed past her and strode out. He was still fuming with anger, but he was already regretting lashing out at Claire. She was only trying to help him—was she not?
The thought of sending her away was unbearable. All day long he had been trying but failing to stop watching her as she worked. His eyes followed her every movement, and yet her eagerness to see him married enraged him.
Ever since their kiss he had been aching to touch her again, and today he had been so close, but she had broken the spell, and now he was filled with frustrated lust and fury.
Consequently, he was not in the best frame of mind when he almost collided with Agnes.
As soon as she saw him, she frowned deeply, then took a step sideways, deliberately standing in front of him and blocking his way.
Iain treated her to a fierce glare, and was about to ask her to move out of his way when she spoke.
“M’Laird,” she said firmly, “I passed Mr McMahon earlier. He told me that the castle needs a lady, an’ I agree wi’ him. It is past time. Ye are no’ gettin’ any younger.” Her cheeks were flushed with rage.
Iain was so stunned at the sheer cheek of the woman that it took a moment for him to calm down enough to reply.
“You seem to have forgotten who is the Laird here, Agnes,” he said furiously.
“My marriage is my own business, not yours, and if I hear one more word from you about this matter, you will be seeking work elsewhere. Do you understand?”
Agnes took a step backwards, her eyes wide with fear. “Yes, M’Laird,” she whispered. “I-I was only tryin’ tae help.”
“I do not need your help,” Iain snapped. “Now get back to work.”
He pushed Agnes out of the way, then marched outside. The only thing that could help him get his mind off things now would be some strenuous physical exertion.
He quickly stripped off his shirt and coat, almost tearing them both. He dragged out one of the straw dummies used for sword practice and attacked it savagely, pretending it was the face of his worst enemy, who at that moment was Dougal McMahon.
He hacked, thrust, and stabbed till his arms ached, feeling the fury and frustration pour out of him as if it were the straw that was bursting out of the dummy.
Again and again he struck, letting out roars and screams of rage until it had completely disintegrated and all that was left was a heap of dried grass on the floor.
However, although Iain had vented much of his spleen on the unfortunate dummy, he was still not satisfied.
What he really wanted to do was attack each member of the council who thought they could bully him into marrying in the same way, but what he desperately desired was something else—no, someone else—altogether.
Why did they not consider what he wanted? No one seemed to care about him at all, only the future of the clan.
He gave a roar of pure rage as he continued his ruthless attack on the pile of straw on the stone floor.
Claire had thought about it a lot and decided that she could not leave the Laird alone. She had been rudely dismissed by him, and although she had been hurt and angry at his treatment, she refused to retreat.
Instead, she followed Iain and was watching from just inside the main entrance to the castle, standing just out of sight.
His face was a mask of rage. She saw him taking out his broadsword—a sharp one this time—and begin to hack at the unfortunate dummy viciously, not stopping until it was completely destroyed. Claire almost felt sorry for it!
What is he doing? she thought. Could this be about me?
No, it can’t be. I am nothing to him. I am not the love of his life just because he kissed me Men are different to us—kisses mean little to them.
I was just there, and it meant no more to him than that.
I mean nothing… or do I? Damn! What is wrong with me? ’
Claire waited, out of sight, until Iain gave up after his assault of the straw dummy. He passed her without noticing her. As soon as she saw the direction he was going in, she began to follow him at a discreet distance, realising that he was heading for the library.
As soon as the door closed behind him, Claire moved to stand outside, taking deep breaths to focus and gather her courage before she turned the handle and stepped inside.