by Glenn, Laura
Claimed by a Laird
Laura Glenn
Anna has had little luck in love. After a long string of heartaches and an abusive relationship, she doesn’t let her guard down. But when a family legacy rips her through the fabric of time, she finds herself in the arms of Galen MacAirth, a thirteenth-century warlord who tugs at something deep within her shielded heart as he stakes his claim on her body.
Galen has been imprisoned by a rival clan. When Anna appears, offering him a chance at escape, he seizes both his freedom and the fiery redhead. Her opinions are strange, but her courage, beauty and passion stoke a possessiveness within him he has never known.
Though Anna surrenders her body to Galen, her heart is harder for him to capture. When a dark figure from her past emerges to reclaim her, she must decide if she can trust her newfound love, and Galen must fight to protect a woman with a history more complex and dangerous than he ever imagined.
A Romantica® time travel erotic romance from Ellora’s Cave
Claimed by a Laird
Laura Glenn
Prologue
1213, Castle Graham, Scotland
Light filtered through her red curls, throwing a halo-like glow around her head. Swaying about her neck on a delicate, silver chain was an amber-colored quartz pendant. It dangled above him, glinting in the sunlight from the window above. She cast her sweet, reassuring smile down to him as she studied him for a brief moment before lifting the grate off the dungeon opening. The ear-bending din of metal scraping against stone reverberated throughout the damp and dim chamber.
Galen awoke with a start, his heart thudding inside his chest. It was the fifth dream in two days he’d had of the angel who came to save him. He pushed himself up off the dank, dirt floor and leaned against the slimy stone wall, wearily rubbing his eyes with his thumb and middle finger. The image of the woman with the remarkable blue-green eyes flitted through his mind once again, causing a deep, all-too-familiar ache to spread through his groin.
He nearly laughed out loud at the absurdity of his reaction to her image. She was a bonny lass to be sure, but she was not real. Perhaps lack of proper water and food was beginning to addle his brain.
If only his brash, younger half brother, Geoffrey, had taken the time to plan before he had acted. Maybe then Galen, laird of the MacAirth clan, would not have had to come to his rescue only to end up at the bottom of the Graham dungeon.
Geoffrey was hotheaded, to say the least—a typical young man still stuck between full manhood and the tumult of adolescence. When the pale-faced Graham messenger cowered before Galen and told him of his brother’s bungled attempt to steal Graham cattle, Galen had half a mind to let Geoffrey wallow in the Graham dungeon for a few days before going to negotiate his release.
The only thing that made him reconsider was the knowledge that the Graham was cousin to Alec Campbell—the man who had killed Galen’s father on the battlefield nearly a dozen years ago. That alone, however, would not have concerned Galen were the Campbells not also the paid henchmen of the Gowries, the MacAirth clan’s greatest enemy.
Relations had been strained between the MacAirths and the Gowries for a few generations, ever since one of Galen’s great-great-uncles had become enamored with a daughter of the Gowrie laird. The woman had already been betrothed to a son of the then king, but the young MacAirth did not care. He simply stole her away to marry her in secret. Though his actions may have been borne out of lust for a pretty lass, the marriage was the best thing to have happened in their part of the Highlands at the time as far as Galen was concerned. A union between the power-hungry Gowries and the crown surely would have caused much more bloodshed over succeeding generations than did the Gowries’ feud with the MacAirths.
But that was not the greatest sin of the Gowries. They killed Galen’s mother when he was but a small child. True, not with their bare hands, but if they had not chased her for sport while she was out riding, she would not have been thrown from her horse and broken her neck.
But the MacAirths were not feuding with the Grahams in whose dungeon Galen now sat. Or, at least, they had not been before this. Galen had been assured the Graham was an honorable man, despite his questionable family connections to the Campbells, and so he had assumed payment in exchange for his brother’s life would suffice.
He was wrong. The Graham thought he could double cross Galen by ransoming him back to his clan for more gold than Geoffrey could ever bring, and so the Graham ordered five of his warriors to take Galen into custody.
Galen had little doubt he could’ve overcome five inept Graham warriors under normal circumstances. He had left most of his weaponry, however, with his small entourage waiting across the Graham border. Such was the custom in the Highlands, done as an act of good faith. The only thing left on his person was a small dagger that was hidden in his right boot. He could have attempted an escape, but it would not have been nearly as entertaining as an all-out battle where the Graham could be exposed and humiliated for his treachery.
At that moment Galen’s clan was raising an army to retrieve their laird. He had no doubts about that. It would not be much longer he would be subjected to the indignity of the Graham castle dungeon.
The war hammer of the MacAirths was about to fall.
Chapter One
2013, Village of Fannich, Scotland
Anna Campbell tossed her long hair over her shoulder as she rested her chin on her upturned palm and stared out the window of her grandparents’ pub. She had tried to avoid looking in the direction of the old castle all week, but her eyes traveled up the ancient road leading from the pub up to the crumbling ruins of Graham Castle. The once imposing fortress silently hugged the top of a craggy hill high above the village her mother and generations of Grahams before her had called home. It dominated village life, greeting her weary jet-lagged body as the bus rolled into town, overshadowing her as she assisted her family in making last-minute arrangements for the funeral of her grandmother, and standing like a silent sentry while she said goodbye and the casket was lowered into the ground.
“Doing a bit of remembering?”
Anna jumped, turning toward her uncle, Ian Graham. She smiled warmly, enjoying every moment he spoke to her just so she could listen to the gentle burr of his Scottish accent. Now that he was older, he was beginning to sound more and more like her grandfather who had passed away only a year after she had last visited from the States ten years ago.
“I guess so,” she replied with a shrug.
“Are you thinking of going to the fair tomorrow, then?”
She shook her head emphatically. Though it had been nearly a decade since she had met her ex-husband, James Gowrie, at the fair, that particularly painful chapter of her life still seemed like it had happened yesterday. Romantically starved and getting all her notions of love from romance novels for so many years, she was easy pickings for James. Within two days, she’d lost her mind and her virginity, in that order, and agreed to marry him in secret.
So stupid. Anna sighed, running her fingertips along the smooth grain of the nearly century-old windowsill. Whispers of the past swirled around her and she couldn’t help but recall her cousin Helena’s sing-song voice the day Anna met James.
“He’s staring at you!”
Anna rolled her eyes and stifled a giggle, too shy to admit she found the tall, handsome young man attractive. Helena recognized him from his stints as one of the characters at Fannich’s annual Medieval Fair held up at the old Graham Castle ruins.
The fair “Romeo” is what Helena called him. Anna was convinced he was totally out of her league. Having always had her nose in schoolwork or a silly romance novel, she didn’t have much experience with boys.
Helena squeezed Anna’s h
and. “Alex and I are gonna grab a bridie. You want one?”
Anna shook her head, having filled up on her grandmother’s version of the meat-stuffed pastry back at the family’s pub, and smiled wistfully as Helena’s pretty, heart-shaped face turned up to look lovingly at her boyfriend, Alex. A crooked, goofy grin spread across his face and he swiftly planted a kiss at the corner of Helena’s mouth.
“All right, then,” Helena said with a giggle as she turned back toward Anna and shoved her none too gently. “Don’t just stand there. Go talk to the man!”
Before Anna could protest, her cousin and Alex disappeared into the crowd. She dared a quick look where the man in question had been standing, only to find he, too, had vanished.
She cast a wide gaze at the scene before her, hoping to catch a glimpse of the young man, but was instead mesmerized once again by the enchanting celebration surrounding her. The ruined castle and courtyard she had admired from her bedroom window had been transformed into a medieval fair complete with burly, kilted clansmen, bosomy wenches, knights and ladies and court jesters. It was an enthralling celebration of the beginning of fall that had been taking place for the past one hundred years in this little community east of Ullapool in northwestern Scotland. Anna had never seen anything quite like it before, though she had imagined such scenes hundreds of times. Many times she had begged her mother to take her to one of the many medieval and Renaissance festivals back home in Illinois, but her mother always refused.
“Are you having fun?” a male voice with a strangely thick Scottish accent asked from behind her.
Startled out of her daydream, she whirled and came face-to-face with the young man who had been staring at her. His hazel eyes twinkled as he smiled down at her.
She nodded, shyly glancing at her shoes before daring a look back up at him. His shoulder-length, light-brown hair fluttered in the breeze. He wore an off-white, long shirt with billowy sleeves, belted around his waist, and brown, wool pants tucked into his brown boots.
She forced herself to smile back, hoping to hide her disappointment that he wasn’t wearing a kilt. Helena had explained to her that the kilt wasn’t really worn until the later Renaissance and so only visitors to the fair tended to wear them, unlike the workers who always dressed with the utmost attention to historical accuracy. But, Lord, did she love a man in a good kilt.
“What is your name, lassie?” he asked.
She also loved being called “lassie”.
“Anna Campbell,” she replied, her lashes fluttering nervously against her brows.
Surprise flashed across his face. “I know many a Campbell from up north. What is your father’s name? Mayhap I know of him.”
She shrugged daintily. “Alec. But I doubt you’ve met him. I’ve never seen him myself.”
A brief, sly smile of satisfaction crossed his face. “Ah, now that is a sad story,” he crooned. ”I am heartily sorry for it. Such a pretty young thing should never be left to the wilds of the world unprotected.” He gently lifted her hand to his mouth, lightly brushing his lips across it.
Her breath caught in her throat as she gazed at him, entranced by the sweet, romantic gesture. Her mother’s warning voice echoed in her head, but she immediately dismissed it. Just because her mother always picked the wrong men, didn’t mean Anna would. Besides, her mother was nearly four thousand miles away and there was not a damn thing she could do to stop Anna right now.
“Well, what say you, Lady Campbell?” He clasped her hand in both of his. “Shall we talk a bit o’er some ale? And mayhap you will honor me with a dance later?”
Her smile broadened and her belly warmed. She had nearly forgotten she was allowed to drink beer in Scotland at only eighteen years of age. A flash of rebellion coursed through her as the thrill of freedom washed away any inhibitions.
Wedded bliss was short-lived. Anna’s cheek involuntarily twitched as she remembered James striking her when she refused to leave with him on the last night of the fair without telling her grandparents goodbye. No one had ever hit her before and a temper she never knew existed within her had unleashed itself. She tried to run and then fight back when he caught her, but he was too strong. If it had not been for Helena and Alex stumbling into them, Anna may have been hurt worse than she had been. James had turned on Alex, and Helena’s screams caused fair workers and attendees to rush toward them. James took off running with Alex on his heels, disappeared into the castle ruins and was never seen again.
Anna drew in a deep breath, shaking her head as though she could dislodge and leave behind the memories of meeting James Gowrie.
Ian affectionately patted her shoulder. “Well, I’m sure you learned your lesson. The memory of your grandmother shouting in your ear as she held that frozen steak to your cheek should be a good reminder.”
Anna snorted. “It was years before I could stand the smell of raw beef.”
He laughed, the cautiousness in his eyes shifting to a deep sadness. “You could hardly blame her, though, seeing you beaten like you were and after everything she’d gone through with your mother and that fair.”
She nodded. It wasn’t until she’d endured an hour of her normally quiet grandmother’s banshee-like fury about her secretly marrying James had Anna learned how her parents met. As she sat there in the pub’s kitchen with the partially-thawed steak against her black eye, she had listened to the heartbreaking tale of her sixteen-year-old mother, Karen, meeting Alec Campbell, a costumed fair worker, the night of the fall equinox when the fair began. Seven days later, on the final night of the fair, he disappeared, leaving her alone and pregnant.
Much to everyone’s surprise, Alec did eventually come back—one year later on the fall equinox when Anna was almost three months old. Unfortunately, he disappeared again seven days later, just as he had one year before. But, thankfully, someone had the presence of mind to snap at least one photograph of Alec before he left.
Anna’s stomach tensed as she recalled the blend of panic, excitement and dread that fell upon her when her grandmother had handed her that photo. She’d never seen one of her dad before and her mother had always refused to talk about him. Though the photo was now carefully tucked away in a box in her bedroom closet back in the States, Anna could recall every detail as though she were holding it in her hand. Standing at the bar in her grandparents’ pub—only ten feet from where she now stood—wearing his historical costume for the fair, her father held her tiny infant body in front of him, cradling her in his massive palms as he tenderly stared at her.
The shocking red hair and vivid sea-blue eyes in that photograph proved to have been a revelation. The disgust glowing in her mother’s eyes now and then when she looked at Anna must have been because she resembled her father. Karen had been petite with straight golden-brown hair, soft brown eyes and a pert, upturned nose. Anna, on the other hand, was tall with a long, straight nose, a mass of long, curly red hair and greenish-blue eyes—quite obviously her father’s daughter.
“It was good you got away from James when you did, lass,” Ian stated with an angry shake of his head. “I still remember the body of that young man we found whose ID James used to marry you.”
She nodded, burying the guilt over the murdered young man as deeply as she could within her psyche. If it hadn’t been for her—if it hadn’t been for James—that young man would most likely be alive today.
She sighed, glancing at the castle through the window. As much pain as that place held for her, she was still inexplicably drawn to it. Yes, it was where she went through something heart-wrenching and frightening, but it was also where her parents had met. A strange, urgent need propelled her to go there one last time before flying back to Chicago in a couple of days. Who knew when she would ever actually get the chance to return to Scotland?
“It was good of you to come all the way here,” Ian commented. “Your grandmother would have appreciated it.”
Tears filled Anna’s eyes. Lord, but she missed her grandmother. After the incident w
ith James, her mother cut her off financially and Anna was not able to return to Scotland. She’d worked two jobs while attending college to become a nurse. Once she was employed full-time, her crazy schedule always seemed to conspire against any sort of extended vacation to the place that was once her home. It took her grandmother’s recent death to finally get her back.
“I am sorry we were not able to come to you when your mother died last year.” Ian eyed her with sympathy. “Your grandmother was so ill I was afraid to leave her.”
Anna nodded and squeezed his hand. “It’s all right. Mom didn’t want a funeral anyway. Besides, we weren’t exactly on speaking terms.”
Ian shook his head in obvious distress. “I just wish I had been around for you. For Karen. If only I’d not been gone in the army when that American oil man came through here and took the two of you home with him. You were such a wee little thing you probably don’t even remember your life here.”
Anna shrugged. “No, not too much, I guess.”
She glanced around the empty pub as tiny snippets of memories floated back to her. Her mother waiting on tables. Sitting on her grandfather’s knee and petting his beard as he laughed with his friends. Her grandmother bringing her toasted cheese sandwiches cut into little bites at the same time she brought her grandfather his nightly dram of whisky.
She couldn’t have been more than three years old when she and her mother moved to the States. That was when things went downhill and the days and nights filled with familial warmth and love had twisted into loneliness and strife. Her mother and stepdad fought constantly and, within two years, they had separated. Then came the long string of boyfriends and marriages her mother went through all the while dragging her daughter throughout the Midwest, following one man after another.
“Helena’s making supper tonight,” Ian commented. “The twins were asking for you when I stopped by there.”