Highlander's Beautiful Liar A Scottish Medieval Highlander Romance Historical Novel - Adamina Young Page 0,11

Soap and warm water? Occasionally Innes gave her a bowl and a sponge and ordered her to bathe. At first she’d resisted, thinking that it was the only thing that kept her virtue intact, but when he threatened to do it himself, she hastily cleaned herself. It turned out that he just wanted to see what his future bride would look like clean.

“I would appreciate that. Thank you,” she said stiffly. Part of her wondered if Alec was trying to lure her with comforts in order to get the truth from her, but the other part simply didn’t care.

“Verra well. We will speak again...Claire.” It was a dark promise, but it sent a thrill up her spine. She could see the hunger in his eyes, but it was different than the way Innes looked at her. It wasn’t as threatening.

And she wasn’t disappointed to see it.

So Alec Sinclair wanted her? Cora wasn’t above using that to her advantage if it meant finally getting out of Scotland.

* * *

.

3

True to Alec’s word, after a few days had passed and Cora could walk around without wincing, Alec ordered the guards to move her to the servants’ quarters. Her new room was much smaller than the guest chambers he’d had her staying in. It consisted only of a small bed, a table, and two chairs, but it didn’t bother her any. She would have been happy sharing a stall with a horse so long as it meant that she was no longer in the prison or guest chambers.

Despite telling Alec that she was fine, Cora was anything but. A few hours after breaking the morning fast, her entire body screamed for rest. After being trapped for six months, her body wasn’t used to moving at a fast pace, and it protested, but Cora wasn’t about to admit that anything was wrong. Although it was vastly better than the prison, her new position in the castle wasn’t all roses.

Despite her humble beginnings, Cora had never worked a day in her life. The Thistles were wealthy enough to employ a few servants, and Cora didn’t even begin to know how to cook, and the servants of the MacKay keep knew it. They scowled as they watched her attempt to peel potatoes and muttered behind her back.

“Lassie!” Louise, one of the cooks, yelled. “Yer butchering the potato. There’ll be nothing left to eat by the time yer finished with them. What are ye doing here anyway?”

Cora sighed and put the knife down. Louise wasn’t wrong. She was chopping off just as much potato as she was peeling. “Just following Mr. Sinclair’s orders.”

“Mr. Sinclair,” Lousie cackled. Her whole portly body shook as the woman bent over, clearly tickled pink by Cora’s statement. “Didya hear that, lassie? Ms.Claire is so verra polite.”

Mary, the young woman who was stirring the pot of boiling water, smirked. “Shouldn’t we be calling him Laird Sinclair? Or is it still Laird MacKay?”

“We’ll be calling him nothing of the sort,” Louise snapped. “He’s an imposter and the sooner he goes on about his business, the better.”

Cora narrowed her eyes. “Seth MacKay was an evil bastard, and I would think that you would be pleased to be rid of him.”

“Aye, that he was. A disgusting pig of a man, but that doonae mean that we need any help from the Sinclairs. Uppity bunch. Man thinks he’s a gift from God. That’s no better than Seth, if ye ask me,” Louise snorted.

“No one was asking ye, Louise,” Mary said calmly. “And I think the new laird might actually be able to help us. He’s quite handsome.”

Cora immediately bristled. Mary was a pretty girl. Unlike Cora, she wasn’t pale and gaunt. Curves in all the right places. Lucious shine in her hair. Full lips. She was probably just what Alec Sinclair would like in his bed.

Immediately, she banished the thought. Alec made it quite clear the night before that he was dangerous. She shouldn’t care who wanted to be in his bed.

“Where’s yer loyalty, Mary? Yer just as bad as Claire.”

“I’m not a MacKay,” Cora said immediately. “And I’m loyal to no one here. I’m simply happy to no longer be in the dungeon anymore.”

“Of course yer not a MacKay. Our Laird MacKay, Duncan, God rest his soul, would never have messed around with an English woman. What I doonae understand is what ye were doing in the prisons to begin with,” Louise said as she put her hands on her hips. When Cora didn’t answer right