Page 36 of The Laird who Craved her

Finn blinked, his chest expanding with a sharp intake of breath. He tore his gaze away from Claire, forcing his attention back to the housekeeper.

"See that the inventory is updated," Finn commanded roughly, his voice noticeably thicker than it had been a moment ago. He turned on his heel without another word, his dark plaid snapping around his knees as he strode quickly out the door.

Douglas offered a bewildered shrug to the room before hurrying after his Laird.

The heavy oak door shut with a loud, resounding thud.

The women slowly returned to their work, the clacking of the looms resuming their steady rhythm.

Claire sat frozen on her bench, her heart hammering wildly against her ribs. Her skin was flushed, and her hands were trembling so badly she had to set her teacup down on the floor to avoid spilling it.

Violet took a very slow, very deliberate sip of her tea. She set her cup down on her lap and looked at Claire with an expression of pure, unadulterated triumph.

"Beneficial," Violet said softly, repeating Claire's excuse from the previous night. "A purely beneficial, political arrangement."

"Violet, please," Claire whispered, pressing a cool hand to her burning cheek.

"I rest me case," Violet declared, picking up her dark thread once more with a highly satisfied smirk. "The man looked ready to throw ye over his shoulder and carry ye up the stairs. If that is what ye call a mistake, Claire Abbot, then I highly suggest ye make a few more of them."

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Claire walked through the muddy pathways with Violet at her side, fascinated by the chaotic life of the MacRae stronghold. Molly trailed a few steps behind them, engaged in a passionate, highly dramatic argument with a local merchant over the price of a small wooden comb.

"I am telling ye, the wood is chipped!" Molly declared loudly, waving the comb in the air. "I wouldnae use this to brush the knots out of a hound's tail, let alone me lady's hair."

The merchant, a burly man with a thick red beard, crossed his arms and scowled. "It is fine ash wood, woman. And it is two coppers. Take it or leave it."

"One copper," Molly countered stubbornly. "And ye should throw in a ribbon for the insult."

Violet watched the exchange with a highly amused smile, her blue velvet cloak contrasting sharply with the rough-spun woolworn by the villagers. She leaned closer to Claire, keeping her voice low over the noise of the market.

"Yer maid possesses the negotiating skills of a battlefield commander," Violet noted lightly. "Leo could use a woman of her talents on the clan council."

"Molly takes her duties very seriously," Claire laughed, pulling her own crimson cloak tighter around her shoulders against the biting wind. "She has been arguing with that poor man for ten minutes. I am half tempted to give him a silver coin just to end his suffering."

"Daenae do that," Violet advised smoothly. "It would ruin her fun."

They continued their walk past the blacksmith's forge. The rhythmic, ringing strikes of a heavy hammer against glowing iron provided a steady heartbeat to the market's noise. Several villagers bowed their heads respectfully as they passed. A few women offered bright, welcoming smiles, calling out greetings to the "future Lady MacRae."

Claire returned their smiles, offering polite nods, but every time she heard that title, a strange, heavy knot tightened in her stomach.

It is all a performance.They look at me and see their Laird's bride. They see a future for their clan. They daenae realize I am only a temporary shield, bound to leave them before the winter snows even begin.

"They like ye," Violet observed, her sharp blue eyes missing absolutely nothing. "The people here. They look at ye with genuine affection. It is quite a rare thing for a clan to accept an outsider so quickly."

"They are good people," Claire replied softly, looking around at the worn, resilient faces of the MacRaes. "They have suffered through famine and war. Finn built this stability for them with his bare hands. They trust his choices completely. Because he chose to bring me here, they accept me."

Violet stopped walking. She turned to face Claire, her expression turning surprisingly serious. The playful, teasing light in her eyes vanished, replaced by a quiet, calculating focus.

"I am leaving tomorrow morning, Claire," Violet announced plainly.

Claire froze, the bustling noise of the market fading into a dull, distant hum.

"Tomorrow?" Claire repeated, her voice sounding incredibly small to her own ears. "But ye only just arrived. Ye cannae leave so soon."

"I must," Violet said gently, reaching out to take Claire's hands in her own. "I brought Leo's message, and I have seen with me own eyes that ye are safe."

"But what am I to do?" Claire whispered, panic rising hot and fast in her throat.