The Draig's Woman (15 page)

Even now her body hummed and craved his touch. The night would have been a memory, one to hold when her arms were empty. But even that was a lie. It would have been a mistake and in the morning a regret. Now Ian was talking nonsense. There was no beginning, just one more “no” to be said.

Claire closed her eyes. “No, Ian.” Scooting back away from him, she sat up, forcing his body to give her space as her shaking hands tried to put her gown in order. “We should have never . . . this should have never happened. I need to go.” She rose to her feet only to find him blocking her way. He wrapped his arms around her.

Ian spoke with the passion burning within in him. “Please, Claire, hear me. There is a way. You and I were meant to be together. Dinna deny that you feel it, too. ‘Tis nay only passion that binds us, it runs far deeper for us both.”

Not wanting to hear what he had to say, yet unable to move away, her head rested against Ian’s chest. Claire pleaded with him. “Please don’t do this. We both know what you need to do.”

Holding her tightly, Ian responded, “Aye, we do. But we can still be together.” Claire stiffened at the words. “Hear me before you assume. There are many in my position that have wed solely for gain. These men have done as needed, as I will do. Yet they have also kept what they wished to have, the woman who stirs their heart. I am trying to ask you to be this, the woman who is with me because of the love between us. We can build a life this way. It would be us together every day and every night. You would be mine.”

Ian’s words were barely spoken before Claire pushed him away. “You are asking me to be your . . . your . . .?”

Ian retorted quickly, “Dinna speak the word you reach for. It would never be that way between us.” His hands reached for her but were left with only air.

Backing away from his reach, she knew what he meant. Claire also knew that it was wrong in so many ways.
How does he not see it? How does he not see the root of it?
A strange yet welcome feeling of calm passed over her as she saw what Ian was missing. She willed herself to speak. “You don’t get it do you?”

Ian tried to close the gap between them only to have Claire back away. Ian stopped moving. “What I see is a way for us to be together.”

Claire laughed even as the tears began to fall. “You’ve never ever met her, this Mairi. What if . . . Ian? What if she is someone you could be happy with? You don’t even know.”

“It does nay matter who she is or what she offers, ‘tis obligation and no more.” Ian replied as his gaze searched her face.

She heard her voice from so far away. “But you don’t know. It could be a good marriage. I will not be in the middle of something that could be.” Claire’s sobs clouded her words. “I can’t take that risk, and I won’t. If you could be happy, I would only be in the way. Eventually things between us would change.”

Ian stepped closer. “Claire, she will never be you. You are everything to me. Dinna you see? In all ways I treat you as my own. You sit at my right at every meal. ‘Tis my dagger you use to cut your meat, the dagger that marks me as laird. ‘Tis your company I seek each day and every night. You wear the best I have to offer. I heed your council in all matters. We spend our evenings together before the fire sharing and enjoying one another. I love you, Claire, and I ken that you love me.”

“And somehow that isn’t enough.” With all of the pain and anguish carried in her, Claire cried out, “It would kill me, Ian. She is going to be your wife. I know full well she will give you a family, the heirs you need. It would kill me to be waiting for you, knowing you were with her. Even if you despise her, it would tear me up inside.” Ian’s brow wrinkled as he absorbed her words, and she saw her meaning take hold. “I’m not that person, Ian. I can’t be that person. And if you love me, you won’t ask me to live like that.” Not waiting for more, afraid he would try to change her mind and that she would let him, Claire grabbed her skirts in hand and finally ran.

Chapter 15

Claire stood outside the front door of the keep in the afternoon sun. The wait was finally over. Tavis, his men, and his daughter had arrived. Hagan had told her to stand by his side with Aliana and Cerwyn. Most of the household was present and waited anxiously to greet the woman who would become the lady of the clan. Claire stood by, certain this was the end. Her dreams of love had died hard last night. The dawn had come with heartache and a nasty headache.

Ian stood apart from them. She had not spoken with that morning, both avoiding any further conflict. Claire had taken refuge in the kitchens all morning, knowing he would not seek her there.

Ian’s voice disrupted her thoughts, “I bid you welcome, Laird Tavis, and trust your journey was a peaceful one.” The formal words of greeting Ian offered were no real welcome, only obligation. When the older man dismounted his horse, Claire could swear she heard the horse breathe a sigh of relief.

She took measure of this other laird. The thin, graying hair gave away his age as his girth led her to believe he was not a man of action. Tavis was fat and out of breath simply from getting off his horse. His features held nothing attractive to her eye, dark beady eyes, an upturned large nose, and thin lips stood out on his blotchy skin. A scraggly beard completed his face.

Claire counted fifteen men dismount and waited for her first look at Mairi, the bride. A cart was in the bailey. She held her breath as Ian went to help the bride out.
Why isn’t she on a horse, too?
Hagan’s quiet curse caused Claire to look away. “What was that for?”

Not looking at Claire, Hagan answered, “Ian will blame me for this. My hand is the only one he will see in this business.” Noting Aliana attempting to soothe him, she looked back at the woman rising from the cart.

Feeling her heart beat a bit too loudly, she took a first look at the woman Ian would wed. If Claire was dressed in the best, the bride exemplified the worst. The bride’s gown was more of a sack, with no shape or style evident. The material seemed rough and dirty even over the distance. The woman was no better. Built like her father, the bride was short and heavyset with the same facial features, which were not any better on a feminine face. Mairi’s dark hair was bound in a simple braid. What struck Claire most was the fear visible on this poor woman’s features. Her head was bowed as her hands wrung themselves, her shaking evident for all to see.

So fixated was she on the bride, she barely noticed the men approaching their gathering. Hagan’s voice intruded on her observations. “And this is my cousin, Claire. She is responsible for the accounts and helps to care for my son, the current heir.”

Mimicking the small curtsy Aliana made, Claire offered, “Greetings to you.”

Ignoring the leer from Laird Tavis, she noted the men in his company. These were his strength; that much was obvious. All of them were built and in shape like the warriors of the Draig clan. Tavis’s voice had a nasal tone as he introduced one of them to Hagan. “This is Nolen, first among my men. He has full authority to act on my behalf should a need arise.”

Hagan and Nolen grasped hands in a strained greeting, and then Aliana offered her hand. As Nolen moved to Claire, her mind took him in instantly: nice looking, light brown hair, clear skin, clean shaven, attractive features, pristinely clean—unlike the rest of them—and blue eyes, very cold blue eyes. As Nolen’s hand reached for hers in greeting, she stepped backward, her body immediately reacting with distrust.

Nolen’s voice was smooth as he grasped her hand. “As always, Hagan, the women of your clan are lovely.”

Thankful to pull her hand away, Claire stepped aside as the men moved into the keep. The bride had been given to Neala to get settled. It was her place as Hagan’s cousin to join Aliana in seeing her welcomed and settled into her chamber. Following the women upstairs, she listened to the housekeeper talk of the keep and how all looked forward to meeting their laird’s bride.

The bride had yet to make a sound until they entered her chamber. A small gasp was audible as the woman sank to her knees. Grabbing Neala’s hands, Mairi’s voice was panicked, “Why have you brought me here? Please, anywhere but here.”

Neala stared at the woman on her knees. “Why, this is your chamber. ‘Tis the finest we have. If something here is amiss, speak it, and I will see it corrected.”

Still with panic, Mairi whispered in a nasally voice, “I was told I would not have to share the laird’s chamber, not yet.”

Neala rose to her feet and pulled the woman up with her. “‘Tis your chamber, prepared for you only. The laird’s chamber is across the corridor.”

Moving back to her knees, Mairi’s hands pressed together before her as if praying, and she stayed like that. The three women stood mutely as the other prayed, for what they couldn’t understand from her mumbling.

Several things became evident. As her things were brought up by one of the men, it was clear that Mairi had brought little with her, only one sack containing everything she owned. The girl wore a dirty gown, very dirty. Her body and hair were in the same state of filth. The fresh ocean breeze and the fire burning with herbs were no match for the foul aroma coming from the woman. The bride was filthy, and she stank.

The color drained from Aliana’s face. Leaning into Claire, she whispered, “I cannot stay in here, I will lose my meal if I do. Forgive me, cousin.” She hurried from the chamber after a weak excuse about seeing to her son.

Not quite sure what to do now, Claire stood, waiting for Neala to provide a hint of what was next.

“My lady, this keep boasts the finest bathing chamber I have ever seen. Mayhap you would like to,” Neala stumbled over her words, “like to wash off the dust of travel and change into a clean gown?” Neala moved to stand in front of the woman and repeated her offer.

Finally moving to stand and look at them, Mairi spoke, “There is no need. The flesh is weak and matters not.” She squinted to gaze around the chamber. “‘Tis a fine chamber. I have never seen one like it.”

Concern filled Neala’s next inquiry. “But you are a laird’s daughter. Surely the convent gave you fine rooms and much consideration.”

“What?” Mairi shook her head. “There is no consideration of the flesh when one works for salvation. The sins of vanity and comfort lead only to temptation. I need to go back. Can you not make them see I need to go back?” Mairi’s voice rose to an almost hysterical volume, and her eyes darted everywhere and nowhere all at once.

Neala’s voice was calm as she worked to reassure her. “My lady, if you wish for some things to be removed, we can do so. We only sought to make your chamber ready for a woman of your rank. All here will do as you ask, so tell me what you wish done.”

“I wish to leave and return to the convent to take my final vows. My place is there, nay here.” Mairi’s voice trailed into incoherent mumblings, and she paced erratically throughout the room.

Taking up the bag containing her belongings, Neala’s head shook in disbelief as she removed two equally filthy gowns, a few shifts, and some type of half-finished needlework. “Where are the rest of your things, my lady?”

Mairi grabbed the bag. “‘Tis all I need.” Moving to shove them into the trunk at the foot of the bed, Mairi once again paced and muttered.

Neala stepped to Claire’s side. “There is something verra wrong with her.”

Attempting to keep her voice low, Claire replied, “I don’t know what to make of her. Do you think maybe she’s just nervous?”

“I have seen nervous, and this is not it. Her mind, child . . . I believe she is a bit lost in her mind.”

Mairi paced. Seeing her crazy pattern of movements and listening to the mutterings, Claire could only agree. “What do we do now?”

With a heavy sigh, Neala replied, “We make her comfortable, as much as she will allow. Mayhap a wee bit of kindness will help. I have heard stories of some convents. Most are fine places where a lass can grow in safety, taught all she will need, and given comfort with religious guidance. Then there are others, and these places are cruel and hard. ‘Tis my fear this is where she came from.”

Claire jumped as she heard Neala’s name called from the corridor. Turning to her, Neala said, “Forgive me this, but I need to go. Can you stay with her until I return?”

“Sure, just hurry back please.” With a squeeze of her hands, Neala left Claire alone with Mairi. Walking to the chairs before the fire, she removed all of the cushions.

“My lady, will you sit with me? There is wine if you are thirsty.” She was surprised as Mairi came to join her at the chairs by the fireplace. Claire nodded when Mairi silently questioned taking a seat. A sigh of relief left her when the fidgeting woman stilled in her chair.

Mairi took a loud slurp of the wine and then wiped her mouth on her sleeve. She looked at Claire and asked, “Who are you?”

Claire knew they had been introduced at least twice. “I’m Claire, Hagan’s cousin. I am in charge of the accounts and help to take care of Cerwyn, Hagan and Aliana’s son.” Hoping the woman’s eyes would focus on something, she continued, “I haven’t been here long, but it’s a very nice place to live. Everyone has been kind to me, and I know they will treat you the same.”

A quiet Mairi responded, “Do you truly believe that?”

Offering a small smile, she continued, “Of course I do, you will see for yourself. There is to be a special meal tonight prepared for you, to welcome you.”

“To welcome me?” Mairi’s voice held only the question. “I don’t understand.”

“Everyone is glad you are here, that is all I meant,” she offered with a smile.

“Oh.” Mairi’s gaze darted back and forth as she barely acknowledged the comment.

Not sure what to do with so little to work with, Claire offered, “Would you like to see your new home? I could show you the keep or the grounds, whatever you prefer.”

Mairi stood and then fell to her knees. “I would pray, Claire. Leave me.”

Guilty and grateful for the dismissal and surprised to hear her name again, Claire stopped her progress to the door. “Are you the woman the laird keeps?”

Shocked to hear this, Claire quickly retorted, “No.”

Mairi’s head was still bowed. “I meant no insult. I would meet her, give her my thanks, and pray for her soul even though she lives with sin.”

“There is no one for you to meet, my lady,” Claire answered.

It could have been me, but I denied him to give both of you a chance at a happy marriage.

Mairi answered sadly, “I had hoped and prayed there was. Now I must pray even more, pray for deliverance from his evil lusts. Leave me, Claire.”

She stood then shook her head and walked to the door. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Mairi kneeling in a corner, praying with a crazy fervor. Closing the door behind her, Claire went in search of Neala.