by Glenn, Laura
Was she a witch? Is that how she had gained access to his dreams?
Geoffrey approached him, unable to meet his brother’s gaze. “Galen, I am sorry. I had not realized you felt anything for the woman.”
Galen shook his head dismissively and turned away, hoping his brother would allow the matter to drop. For all of Geoffrey’s youthful blundering, the young man was unfailingly loyal and only ever attempted to act in his laird’s best interests.
Galen had been thirteen years old when he discovered he had a younger brother nearly eighteen years ago. Unfortunately for Geoffrey, Galen’s father, Malcolm, hadn’t been married to Geoffrey’s mother, who was a maid in keep. Malcolm refused to acknowledge Geoffrey and he and his young mother were quickly shunned by many in the clan.
But Galen could never stomach the idea of his own flesh and blood treated as an outcast when Geoffrey had as much right to sit at the laird’s table as Galen. He kept a close watch on Geoffrey as he grew, even going so far as to secretly lay several young boys flat a time or two for picking on Geoffrey. Galen provided for Geoffrey and his mother in secret as best he could, but once their father died, Galen openly drew them back into the clan fold and claimed Geoffrey as his brother. In truth, Galen had been the only father Geoffrey had ever known.
Geoffrey grabbed Galen’s shoulder. “I am sorry your woman overheard my words, but stop and think for one moment as a laird and not a man. How is it she happened to make her way into the Graham holding and to then release you? How could she have been in the right place at the right time considering she is not a Graham?”
“That was already explained to you,” Galen gruffly answered as flashes of his dreams of her played in his mind’s eye.
“Fine, but did you not hear her impeccable Gaelic last night?” Geoffrey pressed. “If she knows naught but English, how could her pronunciation have been so perfect?”
Galen attempted to dismiss his brother’s fears until he could find out for himself exactly how Anna had learned his native tongue. “All she said was ‘thank you’. It is not difficult. She must have picked it up from the men.”
Geoffrey emphatically shook his head. “I also heard her say ‘good night.’ No one said it to her beforehand. She knew it. There was understanding in her eyes, I would stake my life on it.”
Galen remained expressionless. He could not allow Geoffrey to see the doubt about Anna that had already been planted in his own mind. God forbid but if, in the end, Anna somehow ended up fooling him, it would be his burden, alone, to carry. Regardless of her motives, she had released him from his imprisonment. He owed her the benefit of the doubt until she was found not to deserve it.
“Take Michael and Lachlan with you,” Galen instructed. “I want Anna protected. And resting comfortably in my bed when the rest of us arrive back at the keep.”
Geoffrey’s jaw flexed as resignation fell across his face. He nodded curtly, straightening his back. “Godspeed, brother.”
Galen smacked him on the back. “And you.”
Chapter Seven
He rode like hell to get to her.
The light of the full moon fell across the fallow fields near the MacAirth clan’s southern border. His muscles ached as he goaded his stallion into a full gallop. Soon he would be able to make sure Anna was all right. A couple of clans to the north had good healers. If her condition had not improved, he would send Geoffrey to fetch them.
He pulled ahead of his men, crossing meadows, streams and valleys alone. Never before had the journey back home from a battle dragged out for so long. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, the thatched cottages of his clan came within sight and his keep rose in the distance.
Relief settled upon him as he rode through the gateway into the courtyard. Adam stood in the middle, his legs braced and arms crossed. Word of their imminent arrival had obviously preceded him.
Galen reined his horse next to his friend and a young stable boy dashed toward him from the shadows.
“How are the Grahams doing?” Adam called.
Galen grinned. “Licking their wounds, of course. The laird got away, unfortunately.” He tossed the reins to the stable boy. “How is she?”
Adam flashed him a knowing smile. “She is doing well. Catriona is sitting with her and says Anna’s fever has definitely lessened since we arrived.”
Galen nodded and dismounted, giving his tired stallion an affectionate pat before allowing the stable boy to lead him away. He walked past Adam and headed toward the keep.
Adam grabbed his arm. “Galen, she speaks our tongue. Quite well, in fact.”
Galen stopped, his feet seemingly rooted into the ground. “What did she say?” he asked, clenching his jaw.
Adam shrugged, his brow gravely furrowed. “We could make sense of little of it other than when she asked for you. There was something about dreams, the Graham castle and a necklace, not to mention some utter nonsense about flying in some sort of contraption and a dead grandmother. I did not understand most of it.”
Galen inhaled deeply and shook his head. Not having answers to satisfy his questions was driving him completely daft. “I do not know what to make of it,” he finally admitted, the weight of his burden easing as he confessed his doubt out loud. “I spoke Gaelic when I first saw her, but she did not understand me. When the fever took over this morning, she could suddenly speak in our tongue.”
Adam eyed him for several silent moments. “Forgive me for saying this since I know you do not wish to hear it, but Geoffrey might have a point about her. Do you really know anything about Anna for certain? To be honest, her story does not sit right with me.”
Galen’s anger swiftly arose. “You are right. I do not wish to hear it.” He attempted to brush past his friend once again.
Adam stepped in front of him, clearly undaunted by Galen’s chilly demeanor. “You need to consider she might not be who you think she is.”
Galen glared at him, one fist clenched at his side. He had not hit his friend since they were teenagers and had gotten into a brawl over some barroom wench on their first trip to Edinburgh to see the king, but his fist was itching to throw a punch Adam’s way now.
“Should she prove to be untrustworthy,” Galen replied through gritted teeth, “I will take the fall, not the clan.” He shoved Adam aside and strode toward the steps leading into the keep.
“I am not worried about the clan. I am worried about you,” Adam called from behind.
Galen stopped in his tracks, pausing for the briefest of moments before turning back to his friend. Crossing his arms, he waited for Adam to explain.
Adam walked toward him. “Have you forgotten what your mother’s death did to your father?” he stated in a low, steady voice.
Galen snorted, simultaneously surprised and disgusted by the turn of the conversation. “I am not my father.”
“Your father was not what he eventually became either,” Adam insisted. “Love does strange things to a man.”
Galen threw back his head and laughed in relief. His friend certainly had a strange way of jumping to conclusions. “Is that what this is about? You think I am in love with Anna?”
Adam tilted his head questioningly.
“I barely know the lass. It is not like it was with you and Janet,” Galen remarked with certainty, though he softened his tone at the name of Adam’s long-dead wife.
A brief, melancholy flash passed through Adam’s eyes as he determinedly stared at Galen. “You forget, friend, I have known you your whole life. I saw how you looked at Anna. It is different than with other women.”
Galen shook his head, more than ready to be done with this absurd conversation. “I am grateful to Anna. I owe her a comfortable existence for the rest of her days. That is all.” Spinning on his heel, he strode back toward the keep. “She is just a woman. Nothing more,” Galen muttered loudly, more to himself than to Adam.
“Better not let Anna hear you say that,” Adam called after him. “Women do not take kindly to that
notion.”
Galen’s shoulders stiffened, but he brushed off Adam’s warning. As he reached the top of the steps, he came to a standstill once again, his hand resting on the handle of the door to the keep. “Where is Geoffrey? I thought to send him to the MacBains to request the services of their healer.”
“He left soon after we arrived to fetch Father Andrew,” Adam answered.
“Why would he do such a daft thing?”
Adam grinned lazily. “He said a laird should have the Church’s blessing sooner rather than later.”
Galen rolled his eyes. “He knows as well as I all that truly matters is the oath itself. The priest’s blessing is not needed immediately.”
“He is concerned no one has heard Anna pledge herself to you. Not to mention, I think he believes Father will be able to determine if we can trust her,” Adam responded. “Do you wish me to go the MacBains in his stead?”
Galen sighed and threw the door open before stepping over the threshold. “If Anna is not better by morning, then I will send you to them.”
The warmth of his great hall beckoned him forward as the heavy door fell closed behind him. Due to the late hour, all was quiet as he strode through the room and up the stairs. He pushed aside all thoughts of his daft brother and equally daft friend as he shoved open the door to his chamber.
The young housekeeper’s assistant, Catriona, jumped from where she sat next to his bed with a startled gasp. “Laird Galen, I did not know you were home.”
He nodded and swept past her on his way to the still form lying beneath his bedcovers. The flames from the nearby fire threw shadows across Anna’s sleeping face. A strange sense of relief surrounded his heart and he fought back the smile threatening to split his face.
Galen’s breath caught in his throat as his eyes roved over her delicate features. How on earth had the woman become even more beautiful since she left his side this morning?
“She is doing quite well,” Catriona stated behind him as he ran the back of his hand over Anna’s flushed cheeks and forehead. “The fever has lessened.”
He frowned at the dark shadows under Anna’s eyes. Her face was peaceful, though, and her breathing even, for which he was grateful. It was not until that moment he realized he had been holding his breath since entering the chamber.
“Do you wish for me to make up the bed for you in the next chamber, Laird?”
Galen shook his head as he turned to the young woman, oddly wringing her hands in uncertainty just like Anna had a habit of doing. He was annoyed Catriona still had not gotten over her unfounded fear of him since coming into his household this past spring. “You may go now, Catriona. I will stay with Lady Anna for the night.”
Catriona nodded. “As you wish. Shall I check on your lady in the morning?”
“Yes, thank you.” Once the door latched, Galen sat on the bed next to Anna and caressed the side of her face.
Throughout the battle with the Grahams her face had haunted him, driving him to punish the Grahams for their treachery as quickly as possible so he could assure himself she was safe. He shook his head at his sudden obsession over this mere woman. Up until this point, he had done just fine with the occasional wench to bed. Now he could not stop thinking about Anna’s safety and how easily she may or may not settle into the role of a laird’s wife…if he could get her to accept it.
“What the hell have you done to me, lass?” he murmured.
He stared at her lovely face for another moment, half expecting her to answer. Her rosy, plump lips drew his attention and he longed to taste them, to recapture them for his own and to force those sweet little whimpers of pleasure from her lips.
He clenched his jaw in guilt as he worriedly eyed the pallor of her skin. He should have listened when she claimed she was becoming ill. At that moment in the tent, however, relieving the sexual tension that had built between them was all that mattered. She had no idea the effect her little touches on his hand and thigh or his healthy view of her cleavage in the Graham dungeon antechamber had on him. And when she confidently stood before him and pulled her shirt down even farther, revealing the soft, creamy tops of those luscious breasts in order to better distract the unsuspecting Graham castle guard, he knew he would take her to his bed the first chance he got.
Galen’s eyes flitted of their own accord down to her chest. He nearly salivated as they traced her nipples peaking against the strange, formfitting cloth of her shirt. His shaft stiffened at the thought of the honeyed taste of those peaks and how quickly she would become wet for him.
“Damn it,” he muttered, turning away to remove his boots.
He had to maintain his focus. He stood and discarded his clothing, which he tossed into the corner of the room before walking around to the other side of the bed. He pulled back the covers and slipped in beside Anna whose back now faced him.
Folding his hands on his stomach, Galen closed his eyes, preparing to do battle with his most formidable enemy—himself. He was a warrior to be reckoned with, after all. Surely he was capable of resisting this mere woman’s charms and could force her into giving him the whole truth once she had finally awakened.
He deliberately slowed his breathing in an effort to calm his racing thoughts, but sleep evaded him. Anna’s rhythmic breaths cut through the silence of his chamber. At one point, she stirred next to him, pulling him away from the dream-like, shifting images of the battle and the moment she had disappeared into the river.
Her portion of the blankets flew across his thighs and she whimpered, kicking his leg. “It’s too damn hot in here,” she muttered in Gaelic.
“I know, lass,” he replied with a yawn. “Settle down. You need your rest.”
He rolled to his side and reached for her forehead. He grumbled at the heat still emanating from her skin.
“Galen?”
“Yes, Annie. It is I.”
“You’re alive?”
He smiled at the wonder in her voice. “Go back to sleep now. I will stay with you.”
Anna scooted toward him. “I do hope you didn’t kill anyone,” she murmured, pushing him onto his back and climbing on top of him.
Bare breasts with erect nipples brushed his chest before she settled against him. He inhaled sharply and grabbed her hips. Not just her shirt, but all of her clothing was missing.
“What the devil?” he shouted, his cock hardening beneath her hips.
“Why are you always yelling?” She rubbed her cheek across his chest.
Damn it, the woman’s brain was still muddled by fever. “Where are your clothes?”
She shrugged and lifted her head as she slipped her smooth fingers though his chest hair. “I thought you liked me naked.”
Her silken hair fell against his cheek as she lowered her lips, softly pressing them against his jaw. His face twitched.
He sighed in frustration and prepared to roll her off him. But then she dragged her lips down his neck and his skin prickled under her breath. The soft flesh of her backside yielded under his palms. Both grateful and annoyed by the layers of blanket between her hips and his, he gritted his teeth.
“Annie, you do not want to do this. Not now.”
“I like how you taste.” She nibbled her way across his jaw and up to his mouth. Slowly, she traced his bottom lip with her tongue and took it between hers.
He groaned as blood surged painfully through his cock. The woman was going to be the death of him. He dragged his hands up her back and settled them on the sides of her face to draw her away. “You are ill.”
“Don’t you want me?”
Her pained, nearly whispered question tugged at both his heart and his willpower. If he were a lesser man, he would have rolled her onto her back by now and buried himself between her thighs. He brought her face toward him, gently pressing his lips against hers in a hot, languid kiss.
He somehow found the strength to pull away. “I want you more than any other woman, but we have to wait until you are well.”
“
Okay, but it had better not take another two years,” she snapped. “I shouldn’t have to wait so long between men.”
He could not help but chuckle at her unexpected confession. “Two years, eh?”
“It’s too long.”
“Yes, lass, it certainly is.”
Strange, but her admission that she had not recently been with another man pleased him. He cared not that she was not a virgin, but he did like that she did not throw herself at just any man.
Anna laid her head on his chest and sighed.
“Tell me, lass,” Galen rubbed her heated back, “where did you learn to speak Gaelic?”
“My grandparents.”
His hands stilled against her. He dared not make any sudden movements for fear of startling her into silence. “But you told me English was spoken in your homeland.”
Her cheek rubbed against his chest as she nodded. “I was born in Scotland. My grandmother died and I came for the funeral, but then this stupid necklace did some weird magical thing and took me to you in the dungeon. So, I guess I’m stuck here.”
“Your necklace brought you here?”
Anna nodded again and lightly pressed her heated mouth against his chest, drawing another frustrated moan from Galen’s lips. It was all he could do to not grind his hips into hers.
“A Campbell man gave it to me, you know.” She lifted her head and stared at him. “But I suppose you hate all Campbells so I shouldn’t have told you that.”
“Who was he?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know. Just some guy who worked at Maree Castle.”
He stiffened. The Campbells of Maree had once been friendly to the MacAirths—in fact his father, Malcolm, and the current Campbell laird, Alec, had been friends in their youth. All that changed the moment Alec Campbell’s father sold out his desperate clan to the Gowrie, who offered protection from the clans raiding the Campbells from the east.
Anna’s pendant rested upon his chest from where it hung around her neck. It had been a central image in his visions of her in the dungeon and had fairly glowed above him when she actually appeared in the flesh. Something familiar about the amber stone had been tugging at him ever since he peered at it while they had sat on the floor in the dungeon antechamber.