Page 74 of The Laird who Craved her

Claire immediately covered her flushed face with both hands, groaning softly into her palms. "I cannae believe I said that aloud."

A delighted grin spread across Molly's weathered face. "I was wondering when ye would finally admit it."

"This conversation is over," Claire stated firmly, refusing to lower her hands.

"Oh, nay, I think we have only just begun," Molly teased.

"Molly..." Claire warned.

"Ye have been in love with the man for days," the maid pointed out simply.

Claire lowered her hands just enough to shoot a glare at her maid. "I have nay such…"

"Ye have," Molly interrupted.

"I daenae," Claire argued.

"Ye do," Molly insisted with a laugh.

Claire huffed in defeat, dropping her hands to her lap. "Ye are impossible."

"And yet I am right," Molly chuckled triumphantly.

Claire tried desperately to summon another denial, but absolutely none came to her defense. Instead, she looked back toward the window, a genuine smile tugging at her lips despite the lingering ache in her chest.

"I only wish..." Claire started, her voice trailing off.

"What, lass?" Molly asked gently.

"I wish we had more time," Claire whispered.

Molly's expression softened into deep sympathy. "So does he."

Claire swallowed the painful lump rising in her throat, but before she could answer, the heavy carriage lurched unexpectedly, pitching both women violently forward.

"What was that?" Molly gasped, gripping the wooden bench to steady herself.

Claire frowned, bracing her hands against the velvet cushions. The horses had stopped, and not gradually, but with a harsh, abrupt violence. Outside, unfamiliar voices drifted through the dense trees. She recognized one of their guards, but the other voice belonged to a man she had never heard before. The voices grew sharper in the freezing air.

"We werenae told there would be a change," the Rosewood guard argued defensively.

"There is now," the stranger replied briskly. "Lord MacSween's orders."

Claire straightened immediately, her pulse quickening. "A change?"

Molly pulled back the heavy velvet curtain just a fraction to peer outside. "I cannae see much," the maid whispered nervously.

Claire leaned in beside her, quickly counting the mounted men who had joined their escort. There were too many of them. One of the newcomers carried himself with the rigid discipline of a soldier, yet something about his presence felt deeply wrong. Histhick plaid bore no crest, and displayed no colors she recognized. He spoke to their escort as though he belonged there.

"I will nae hand the lady over without proper confirmation," one of Rosewood's men stated firmly, shaking his head.

The stranger smiled, though the cruel expression never reached his dark eyes. "Then perhaps ye should."

Claire's stomach tightened into a knot of pure ice as the terrible realization hit her. Something was terribly wrong. She reached instinctively for Molly's trembling hand.

"Stay behind me," Claire ordered fiercely.

"Me lady..." Molly protested, her voice shaking.