by Glenn, Laura
“I am down here, lass,” he called, attempting to speak in the mildest tone he could muster.
The face of his angel suddenly appeared at the grate. He froze in momentary disbelief until a familiar hunger overtook his body as he took in her long red curls, creamy skin and the delicate turn of her jaw. Something glinted in the light spilling into the pit, distracting his attention from her face. A shiny, honey-hued pendant on a silver chain fell forward from her neck and dangled through the grate.
He froze as the reality of her presence dawned on him. Had his visions been true? Had God sent one of his angels to guide him out of the pit to wreak his revenge? Or was he still asleep and would only awaken when she moved the grate?
Her sea-blue eyes landed upon his and she gasped, throwing words at him he did not immediately understand.
“Are you all right?” she repeated, brushing her hair behind one ear in an ultra feminine gesture.
Galen’s eyebrows arched in surprise and indignation as the foreignness of her language sunk into his brain. It was, unfortunately, a language with which he was all too familiar.
He rolled his eyes heavenward and shook his head. The Lord certainly had a strange sense of humor.
His angel was English.
“Yes, I am all right,” he replied in her language, pushing aside the urge to spit.
“How on earth did you get stuck down there?” she asked.
The woman spoke with a strange accent unlike any English person he ever had the misfortune to meet. Galen stood and walked to the center of the dungeon, directly under the grate. “What are you called?” he asked, careful not to speak too loudly since he was not certain how easily his voice would carry to anyone who might be listening outside the room.
“Anna,” she replied with a soft grin.
He smiled back, his heart warming at the sight of that familiar smile from his dreams. “Anna, I need you to move the grate.”
She immediately nodded. “I’ll try, but I can’t make any promises.”
Anna grasped the bars with both hands and lifted, her muscles straining to secure even an inch of height. She tilted the grate to obtain some leverage and heaved it forward, finally getting the edge onto the stone. Her arms ached and the scraping of metal on stone echoed throughout the chamber as she threw her weight against the iron bars. Inch by inch the grate moved until finally the opening was halfway cleared.
“Good, lass!” the man below praised. “Now I believe there is a rope attached to the floor you can throw down.”
Anna stepped back and quickly spotted an iron loop attached to the floor and a rope coiled beside her right foot. Funny, she could have sworn it hadn’t been there when she originally entered the dungeon antechamber.
She dismissed the strange thought from her head and stooped to retrieve the rope. “Here you go.” She tossed the end over the side of the stone wall.
Anna marveled as the man jumped to grasp the rope and then pulled himself up using nothing but his upper body strength to reach the neck of the opening into the pit. Swinging his legs to the side, he caught the wall with the soles of his black leather boots and used his feet to climb the rest of the way up.
Her mouth dropped open as he ascended from the pit. Each of his muscles strained and rippled beneath his sun-bronzed skin. He must have been some sort of athlete.
“Do you need any help?” Anna asked, admiring the contours of his chiseled face as it came into full view. She bit her lower lip to ensure it wouldn’t drop again. Dark-brown hair nearly the shade of freshly ground coffee framed his harshly attractive features. He certainly wouldn’t be considered a pretty boy, especially with the long, jagged scar running from his right cheek to his jaw, but his high cheekbones, squared-off chin and piercing gray eyes fairly took her breath away. She always did prefer her men on the rugged side.
Her men. She stifled a laugh at the thought, barely able to recall the last time she was asked out on a date, let alone flirted with a guy.
His eyes caught hers as he hoisted himself up on top of the stones and over the side. She swallowed hard as an intense surge of wanting washed over her while her gaze swept over his massive, perfectly wrought form. Blood flushed through her veins and an ache formed between her thighs. It had been a long time since she had reacted so physically to the mere sight of a man.
Especially one who had more than a five o’clock shadow and needed a bath.
Anna shook her head. She was displaying the classic symptom of not having gotten laid in far too long. Sure, this guy standing in front of her was hot, but she did have certain hygienic standards after all.
His medieval-like clothing drew her attention. Perhaps he was one of the fair characters starting work a bit early. His long, off-white shirt had billowy sleeves, an open vee at the neckline and was belted around his trim waist. The tight brown pants under the long hemline of his shirt seemed to caress every muscled contour in his lusciously roped thighs.
As she dragged her eyes back to his face, he gave her the same perusal, though his eyes seemed to be raking her form rather than observing. A shudder of self-consciousness coursed through her, especially when his stare lingered upon her hips a little too long.
“How did you get down there?” she asked, her throat abruptly dry. She didn’t much care for the way her voice was shaking either.
“I was thrown,” he replied with a nonchalant shrug.
Horrified anyone would do such a thing, she turned toward the door. Just as soon as she could alert the authorities about this poor guy, she was going to find that damn tour guide and give him a piece of her mind. “Come on, let’s get out of here and call the police.” She reached for the cell phone in her purse. “People can be such assholes.”
His fingers grabbed her arm and he yanked her backward. She landed with a jolting thud against him. He wrapped his arm around her chest, locking her other arm down. A glint of steel blazed before her and a thin, sharp object was pressed into the tender flesh at the base of her throat.
Her heart seemed to stop mid-beat. This couldn’t be happening. Was this damn castle cursed?
The man leaned the side of his face against her head and she bit back a whimper.
“You will not be calling anyone, Anna,” he whispered.
His lips brushed her ear as he spoke, unleashing a strange mixture of fear and electricity through her veins. Her breath caught in her throat and her heart threatened to pound out of her rib cage.
“You are coming with me, lass. I cannot take the risk you will alert someone to my escape.”
She gulped, desperately attempting to pull together some coherent thoughts to get her out of this mess. “Just let me go. I swear I won’t tell anyone,” she pleaded in a hoarse whisper.
A disturbing heat emanated from his body and her muscles automatically relaxed, threatening to send her deeper into his arms. Shame and anger welled within her at her inexplicable reaction to this man holding her hostage. “Just let me leave and I’ll forget I ever saw you.”
“No.” He shoved her none-too-gently toward the door with his body. “You are not leaving my side until I have reached the safety of my holding.”
Anna’s mind whirled in angry confusion. This guy obviously deserved to be thrown in that damn pit. If only she could get his blade away from her neck, then maybe she could get away from him long enough to attract someone’s attention.
His fingertips dug painfully into her throat as he forcefully twisted her neck around until his face loomed over hers. His eyebrows lifted as he stared at her, evidently waiting for her agreement.
“Fine,” she spat, glaring at him through narrowed eyes. “Just get that damn blade away from me.”
A brief flash of amusement sparked in the man’s gray, foreboding eyes and the skin crinkled slightly at the corners. Her neck prickled with goose bumps. If he would just open the damn door then maybe, just maybe, someone might see them or she would, at least, get a chance to escape.
He dropped the knife fr
om her neck, securing the hilt in his palm as he grabbed the iron handle of the door and effortlessly pulled it open.
All thoughts of escape vanished the moment she was confronted with stone walls. A long, torch-lined corridor with a small window at the end lay before her, looking like something straight out of Braveheart. No grass. No sunlight. No river. Nothing she had expected lay anywhere in sight.
Where the hell am I?
“I would hate to mar that lovely neck of yours,” the man stated, his voice deep and resonant as his thumb lightly caressed the sensitive skin of her throat, sending thrilling shivers through her. “But one sound out of you and I will slit it. Is that understood?”
Anna nodded dumbly, only half hearing his threat. One thing was for certain. She had to find a way out of this place…wherever and whatever it was. And, as frightening as it was to admit, this half-crazed, dangerously hot man might be her only ticket to the outside world.
He released her neck and then squeezed her hand. When she turned her eyes up to him, she was taken aback by the change in his demeanor. Kindness radiated from his eyes, glowing brilliant silver in the torchlight.
“All you have to do is follow me and remain silent,” he whispered with all the authority of a five-star general. “As long as you obey my commands, you will not be harmed.”
She slowly nodded again. Dark smudges beneath his eyes called attention to the pallor of his skin and the weariness etched across his brow. An unexpected surge of sympathy welled within her. His horrid threat to kill her was nothing but a bluff to gain her cooperation in aiding his escape.
The nurse in her took over, but she resisted the urge to feel his forehead for a fever just in case the sudden move might set him off. “Are you all right?” she whispered, gently pressing her fingers into his hand to gauge how cold or clammy it was.
He jumped back, ripping his hand from hers as if she were on fire. “I am well enough. Now which way is best?” he snapped, strength quickly returning to his features.
“Hell if I know,” she replied, her ego bruised.
“Are you not a guest of the Graham?” His eyes darted up and down the corridor.
“The who?”
Footsteps echoed through the hall and the man grabbed Anna by the elbow, yanking her back into the dungeon antechamber. He shoved her against the wall and silently closed the door. Putting a finger to his lips, he moved in front of her, plastering his back against her chest. Every muscle in his body tensed against her like a wolf preparing to defend his pack from intruders.
Silence pounded in Anna’s ears as she stiffly clung to the wall, barely daring to breathe. Her shoulder blades burned where they had scraped against the roughly hewn stones. She silently cursed him. Her chances of pushing him away to get the attention of whoever was outside without him slicing her throat first were nearly zero.
But if she were very careful, she just might be able to reach her cell phone. If she were lucky, the voice of the emergency operator might take him by surprise and give her just enough time to get out of his reach and through the door. With her eyes carefully trained on the side of the man’s face, she slowly inched her hand into her bag.
As her fingers wrapped around the phone, he whispered from the side of his mouth, “What the hell do you think you are doing?”
She jumped, her nose bumping his back. “My back hurts,” she mumbled, quickly removing her phone from her bag and securing it within the folds of her skirt.
He grunted and shifted to allow her only about an extra inch of space in which to move.
Several moments passed before she was able to boost her confidence enough to attempt her escape. Without looking at her phone, she swiped the screen to unlock it, pressed the “call” button and dialed 9-9-9, the equivalent of her own country’s 9-1-1. With her thumb hovering over the button to change it to speaker phone as soon as someone picked up, she lifted the phone slightly and peered down at it from the corner of her eye.
Searching for service…
Anna’s brows knitted together in confusion and she pressed the “cancel” button. The screen did not change. She’d had no problems reaching a cell tower all week. Now she couldn’t even get the phone to register the time or date let alone make an emergency call.
She took a deep, silent breath to calm her racing thoughts. Just what the hell was going on here? No cell phone service and a rebuilt castle? Impossible.
After what seemed like an eternity, the man relaxed and stepped away from her. She slipped her cell phone back into her bag, her stomach twisting in knots.
“It is safe now,” he whispered. “We will stay here until nightfall and then make our escape.”
Anna slid down the wall in defeat and sat upon the cold stone floor, ignoring the pain in her shoulders. Her face fell into her hands as she struggled to remain calm. What she had seen outside the door was nothing short of real. If she were dreaming, then this man next to her wouldn’t be drawing her in with his warmth, away from the sharp, cold stones at her back. Her shoulders wouldn’t hurt and her cell phone would work. Dreams were convoluted, full of symbolism and absurdity, and this seemed real. Too real.
“You are trembling like a leaf. Are you all right, lass?” the man asked in a low tone as he sat beside her.
“No, I don’t think I am.” She shook her head, silently attempting to reconcile the kindness and concern her captor showed with the fact he had threatened to slit her throat just minutes ago. “I’m not supposed to be here,” she insisted, more to herself than to him.
He caressed her arm with the back of his hand, sending pleasant tremors down her spine. “You did the right thing by assisting me. I promise to keep the Graham from harming you.”
“Who is this Graham?” she whispered in frustration, fighting the tears stinging her eyes. “All I know is I was on a nice little tour of some castle ruins and now I’m stuck in a smelly room above a dungeon with a man threatening to kill me.”
Hysteria bubbled up within her as the tour guide’s story filtered back into her consciousness, eliciting a gasp from her mouth. Wait. When did the tour guide say the castle fell into disrepair?
When?
No, there was simply no way. It was not a sane question and there had to be some way to prove it. People simply did not travel through time.
She grabbed the man’s thigh, breathing deeply as she turned toward him. He would know something about what had happened. If he lied, then she’d know. After all, she had a lot of experience in detecting deception. Hospital patients were often notorious liars.
“Who are you?” she warily asked. “What’s your name?”
“I am Galen, Laird of the MacAirths of Glenverlochy,” he replied, laying his hand upon hers.
Panicked at the lack of deception in his voice, she searched his face. He stared back at her with open curiosity and she shuddered, unable to find even the slightest thread of deceit.
“I was taken prisoner unjustly by the Graham laird when—”
“It was your brother, Geoffrey.” The logical part of her brain threw alternative suggestions about what she had seen outside the door. As soon as she stopped struggling for some other wild explanation, however, the puzzle pieces fell into place. “You are here because of him. And I…”
I am Anna Campbell.
Nausea swept over her and she inhaled erratically, her breaths coming almost one on top of another. How? How could this have happened?
She grasped the pendant. It had threatened to overheat like a machine spinning out of control not long after her thoughts had turned to her thirteenth-century namesake. Anna had been thinking of how much she would like to experience the same sort of love and passion as this other Anna Campbell had with the imprisoned MacAirth laird.
Who just so happened to be holding her hand at this very moment.
“Lass, what is wrong?”
Her heart pounded and she gasped for air, shaking her head at the impossibility of it all.
He roughly grabbed her
by the shoulders and shook her. “Anna, look at me!” he ordered. “You must get a hold of yourself!”
She closed her eyes and several moments of silence passed as she concentrated on slowing her breathing before she hyperventilated or, worse, blacked out. When she finally opened her eyes, she avoided his face and stared past Galen’s shoulder into the dying light of the small room. It was just coincidence, wasn’t it? Certainly her mind was just playing tricks on her and she wasn’t actually sitting there with a deranged, albeit hot stranger. She couldn’t possibly have been hurtled nearly eight hundred years into the past.
Could she?
The warmth of Galen’s body pressed against hers drew her back to him again and she lifted her gaze.
His brow wrinkled in confusion and he stared at her for several moments. “So, you are aware of the circumstances of my imprisonment.”
“I am,” she whispered with a slow, careful nod, uncertain if she should trust this man with her ludicrous suspicions of how she had arrived here. “I just heard the story from a tour guide.”
“I do not understand.”
She took a deep breath, praying she wouldn’t regret telling him the truth. “Where I come from this castle is in ruins. Aside from a few walls, this dungeon is the only thing still intact.”
“But it is not in ruins, lass,” he patiently replied. “You saw it for yourself.”
Her shoulders slumped. It all sounded quite ridiculous when actually spoken out loud, but she had little choice other than to continue. “They’re in ruins in my time. The year 2013.” Her stomach churned nervously. “I honestly don’t know how I got here.”
Anna’s free hand wrapped around the pendant once more. She fought the urge to shake her head in denial, not wanting to look as crazy as she must have sounded.
He gave her hand a demanding squeeze. “Give me the truth,” he ordered with a mixture of exasperation and amusement. “You are acting honorably in assisting my escape. I care not to whom you might belong so long as you do not attempt to betray me.”