by Glenn, Laura
Now that she had spoken the name “Campbell”, he knew why. He had not thought about the Campbell legend in ages. Supposedly, the Campbells were in possession of a honey-colored stone that had been enchanted by an old Graham woman who was reputed to have been a witch. They had inherited it through intermarriage with the Graham clan when Alec Campbell’s mother married his father. The pendant was said to ensure the success and wealth of the one who possessed it through drawing powerful alliances and good luck. In fact, once the pendant was in Campbell possession, the Graham’s regional power had faded and the Campbells, for a time, seemed untouchable.
Rumors that the sudden rise of the Campbells of Maree was due to the black magic of the pendant had spread through the Highlands like wildfire, attracting fortune hunters and jealousy from other clans. Over twenty-five years ago, the pendant was rumored to have been stolen and the Campbells faded from power. Since that time, the Campbells had been subjugated by the Gowries and forced to do their bidding or risk losing everything.
Galen had never put much stock in such stories. But could this one actually have some truth to it? Could it be that Anna had come into possession of that fabled stone nearly eight-hundred years from now? And why would the Campbells have given it to her?
She yawned and rubbed her cheek against his chest again. He pushed the thought of her pendant aside, determined to find out the answer to one last question before she fell asleep.
“Anna, have you been sent here to harm me or my clan?”
“I have sworn an oath to not harm anyone,” she muttered, her tone astringent. “I heal people.”
Her voice trailed off and Galen smiled as he placed a quick kiss on her head.
Chapter Eight
Something warm behind her coaxed Anna awake and she sleepily snuggled toward it. She struggled to open her heavy eyelids. Why didn’t she smell her uncle Ian’s freshly brewed coffee wafting in from the kitchen? She pried her eyes open halfway and they fell upon the cold ashes of a fireplace. Early morning light filtered around the window coverings and spilled onto the wide planks of a roughly hewn, wooden floor. She yawned loudly. She must still be dreaming.
But then memories of the fever filtered back into her consciousness. The headache and the chills had both finally subsided and she smiled gratefully, allowing her eyes to flutter closed. When she rolled onto her back, however, her weakened, aching muscles nearly groaned.
Anna breathed deeply and opened her eyes again only to find a very large, half-naked and dangerously handsome man staring down at her. A startled gasp escaped her throat, but, a split second later, recognition dawned on her. She gazed at him in amazement as a knot settled into her stomach.
None of what had happened was a dream, after all.
Unfortunately this also meant, much to her dismay, there would be no coffee.
Galen was propped on one elbow, peering down at her. His dark hair fell over half his face, giving him a rakish air. Wait, wasn’t he supposed to have fought in some stupid battle? Relief swept through her—he was safe.
Her heart skipped a beat as she got her first good, healthy look at his bare chest in the light of day. She couldn’t help her roaming eyes as they traced the contours of his pecs and abdomen. A smattering of dark hair led downward and disappeared under the blanket draped around his waist.
Her cheeks heated at the memory of their sexual encounter in the tent and she shifted her gaze to the sparse furnishings of the rustic room in an effort to distract her wandering thoughts.
“Madainn mhath,” he said, flashing a flirtatious grin.
Her stomach flipped in pleasure and she couldn’t help but smile back. “Madainn mhath.” She stretched her arms up behind her head, arching her back in the process, which pulled the blanket down her chest.
Galen groaned and yanked the blanket over her breasts. “You must stop torturing me like that.”
She drew in a surprised breath. “Why am I naked?”
“You were hot, so you disrobed.”
She shoved his hand away from her chest in embarrassment, but he captured her hand, threading his fingers through hers. He pushed her arm back until it was pinned against the mattress next to her head. Throwing one of his massive thighs across her hips, he rendered her nearly motionless.
“You speak my language,” he whispered.
Breathlessly, she glanced into his gray eyes. It had seemed so natural when he said “good morning” in Gaelic, she replied the same in return. Her blunder quickly fell from her thoughts, however, as his warm cock insistently pressed her thigh. Her lips parted and her tongue dashed out to moisten their sudden dryness.
He shook his head in seeming resignation as he lowered his lips to within a mere breath of hers. “You will explain why you did not reveal this to me.”
“I learned it from my grandparents,” she admitted, nervously holding her breath.
“You mentioned that while you were fevered,” he snapped, his eyes darkening as his gaze pierced her. “I want to know why you allowed me to continue speaking English when you could already understand me perfectly.”
Galen’s tone held a hard, accusatory edge. The words strained and every syllable enunciated with foreboding clarity. For the first time since he held that blade to her neck, she caught a glimpse of the warlord she knew him to be. Chills ran down her spine as the fear over her foreign and seemingly merciless new surroundings forced its way to the forefront of her thoughts. Dark images of recent events fell upon her all at once—the coldness in Galen’s eyes as he threatened her life if she did not assist him when they first met, the darkness of the river as she went under and the climb down the impossibly tall Graham castle wall.
Her eyes burned with tears as she thought of all the friends, family and comfort, not to mention the nice and safe, but utterly boring existence she had left behind. She pushed him away and sat up, covering her face with her hands as tears silently flowed down her cheeks.
“Do not do this to me woman,” Galen hoarsely commanded. “You will cease your weeping immediately.”
Anger and shock at his callous reaction to her tears welled within her. Was this even the same man who had taken such pains to ensure her safety and comfort? The very same man she couldn’t seem to wait to spread her legs for? She was a massive idiot to think he was any better than the other men she’d been with.
“All I wanted was to come home to Scotland and say goodbye to my grandmother,” she muttered from behind her hands. “And all I got was some asshole who kidnaps me at knife-point and orders me around.”
Galen stilled against her and remained motionless for several moments. “Did you just call me an ‘asshole’?”
Anna’s tears slowed as the curious wonder in his voice pierced her anger. “Yes,” she squeaked.
She parted her fingers and warily peered out at him. The kindness was, thankfully, back in his eyes.
“Are you done crying?” he asked in a wary tone.
She nodded pitifully and he pulled her hands from her face. He cupped her cheeks in his palms and wiped her tears away with his thumbs.
“Why did you not understand me when I initially spoke to you in Gaelic?” His voice was gentler this time, but the grim determination revealed by his thinned lips indicated he was not going to leave her alone without getting a satisfactory answer.
Anna shrugged. The man was a complete contradiction, moving from anger over her tears to tenderness as he wiped them away. “It’s been over ten years since I last spoke it,” she answered. “I didn’t think I still really knew how to.”
Galen’s shoulders relaxed and he dropped his hands from her face. “And when did you realize you could understand us?”
“Soon after you began speaking to your men at the encampment.”
“And this pendant you wear. A Campbell man gave it to you, correct?”
Anna froze. She couldn’t quite recall what his deal was with the Campbells, but they had something to do with his enemy clan, the Gowries.
His eyes were sharp and evaluating as they held her paralyzed. “Why do you fear that name so?”
“Um.” She searched anxiously for some plausible explanation he would not detect as a deflection of the truth. “It’s…it’s just that you seem to hate them so much.”
Galen paused for several, long moments before nodding, apparently satisfied with her answer. “Was there a reason why the man gave the pendant to you?”
“He said he had instructions to deliver it to me,” she whispered, turning her attention to her hands in her lap. “I had never seen him or the pendant before.” She inhaled slowly, thankful she had enough wits about her to leave out the fact she was a Campbell too.
“Who gave him these instructions?”
She blinked anxiously. Could she trust him to not lash out at her if she uttered the name of the man who had willed it to her? The sheer determination on Galen’s face, however, convinced her she had little choice in the matter.
“Someone named Alec Campbell,” she whispered, nervously fidgeting with the blanket. Her father had shared the same name.
He gripped her hands. “The Campbell of Maree laird?”
She froze, staring at his hands fearfully. Dear Lord, what was she doing here? She didn’t know this man. Was he violent? Would he hurt her if she didn’t give him the answers he wanted?
James’ face flashed before her eyes, causing her stomach to churn. How could she be so stupid as to allow herself to get involved with Galen? He talked of battles, threatened to kill people, and claimed more enemies than she could keep track of. Was he nothing more than a less manipulative form of James?
One of his hands flew to her face and she gasped, involuntarily wincing. When all he did was grab her chin and turn it toward him, she cracked one eyelid to peer at him.
“Look at me, woman,” he commanded.
Anna took a deep breath and forced both eyes open to meet Galen’s wounded expression. She immediately chided herself for assuming the worst about him. He had done nothing but protect her. He did not deserve this kind of distrust.
“Has someone hit you?” His eyes narrowed. The man was far too sharp and perceptive for her own good.
“I don’t wish to talk about it.” She shook her head and shoved James’ face out of her head. “Besides, it was a long time ago.”
“But you thought I was going to harm you,” he flatly stated. “You also stepped away from me last night when Geoffrey admitted his mistake and I became angry. Do you believe I will hurt you?”
Anna studied his face for a moment and a strange warmth wrapped around her heart. She wasn’t certain how, but she instinctively knew she had nothing to fear from this man. At last, she shook her head.
Galen grunted in satisfaction. “Now, about the Campbell laird. Were you given any instructions with this pendant?”
“No.” She furrowed her brow. “None of it made any sense to me. All I was told was that this guy died in 1233. I know it sounds ridiculous, but I don’t know anything else about this, Galen. I wish I could tell you more.”
She sighed, certain he wasn’t going to believe her, until Galen caressed the side of her face with his hand. She dared a glance at him and his lips curved into a tender smile.
Anna’s heart fluttered at the fire smoldering in his eyes and the tension left her shoulders. She smiled shyly as he withdrew his hand from her cheek. His attention dropped to the tops of her breasts peeking above the blanket she held tight to her chest. Her nipples immediately hardened.
An inexplicable emotion darted across his face and he turned from her. “You will speak Gaelic from now on,” he announced in a clipped tone as he threw the blankets off himself.
Anna’s gaze inadvertently fell to his fully erect cock. She inhaled sharply and averted her eyes. Its sheer size caused warmth to spread throughout her abdomen. Even in her weakened and upset state, she clenched her thighs together at the memory of Galen thrusting it inside of her.
“You are blushing like a virgin,” Galen quipped as he crossed the room.
“I-I-I can’t speak it, Galen,” she insisted, hoping he would forget about her reaction to his sudden nakedness.
Several minutes passed while Galen pulled on his clothing. She dropped her eyes to her hands as they fidgeted with the blanket in her lap.
The mattress sank beside her and his hand drifted up her bare back to her neck, sending a pleasant shiver through her spine. He gently massaged her with his thumb and fingers. “I heard you speak it. Adam and Geoffrey did too. Perhaps the fever prevented you from feeling nervous about your ability to converse in our tongue.”
Anna closed her eyes, simultaneously wishing for him to leave as well as drop those firm, commanding lips to her shoulder.
“We will assist you, of course,” he said. “But I will not have your tongue spoken on my land unless absolutely necessary. Do you understand?”
The vehemence with which he spoke caught her by surprise. “The English are really hated here, huh?”
“Most have good reason.”
She turned toward him to ask him to explain. Her lips bumped the corner of his mouth and she pulled back in astonishment at the sudden rush of heat leaping off him.
Galen wrapped his roughened hand around her neck and pulled her toward him. He captured her top lip, softly sucking before releasing it and moving to her bottom lip to do the same.
She sighed, leaning into the kiss as his other arm encircled her waist and hauled her against his hard chest. She slipped her arms around his neck and parted her lips. Her heart pounded in her chest as his tongue slid into her mouth, sending shivers of desire through her abdomen. Before she realized what was happening, her own tongue darted into his mouth, touching and teasing his tongue with increasing abandon.
He growled lowly, threading his fingers through her hair and twisting it around his fist. Gently pulling her head back, he dragged his mouth from hers to her exposed neck. Her eyelids shivered closed as Galen kissed and sucked a path down toward her shoulder. A soft, ragged moan fell from her lips as wetness gathered between her thighs.
He tensed against her. Raising his mouth from her neck, he peered into her face as though trying to solve a puzzle.
He released her and pulled her arms from his neck. “You need your rest,” he stated as he rose and turned his back on her.
She reached out and grazed his forearm with her fingertips, concerned about the abrupt change in his attitude. “I am fine.”
His muscles twitched beneath her fingers as he turned toward her. He tucked her hair behind her ear. “I should have believed you when you told me you were ill.”
Her eyes widened in surprise. Did the man actually feel guilty for seducing her? She leaned into his palm, her head swimming and lips still burning with fire. She should let him go. She shouldn’t encourage him to continue touching her, but she couldn’t seem to help herself.
His strength seeped into her, renewing her energy. “It’s not like I stopped you,” she whispered in reassurance as she turned her head and pressed her lips to his palm.
He dragged his thumb across her bottom lip. “I gave you little choice.”
“Trust me, Galen,” she replied with a small smile as she stared up at him. “I do not do anything I don’t want to do.”
He shook his head and dropped his hand from her cheek. “It is my duty to protect you and I failed.”
Galen appeared so solemn and his tone was so sincere, she forced the smile off her face just in case it might prick his feelings. “From whom? You?”
“And yourself.”
He was actually turning her down for her own good. Her lips parted in surprise as she gazed at him. Granted, she wasn’t some sex kitten who seduced a new man every other day, but no man had ever rejected her offer of sex before. It didn’t matter if she had bags under her eyes after pulling a double shift at the hospital or if she was in some obvious fragile, emotional state—they always jumped at the chance. But not Galen. He wanted her to get her r
est, to heal. He was actually sorry for not listening to her concerns in the tent.
Her eyes fell to the jagged scar on his cheek. How many battles had he seen and survived? She scanned him for any injuries he might have sustained during the fight with the Grahams but hadn’t mentioned. Seeing nothing, she breathed out in relief.
She lifted her eyes to his and her heart melted just a little over the concern written in his wrinkled brow. A deep ache grew between her legs. No, he wasn’t leaving her like this.
She rose to her knees and the bed covers fell away from her. “Come back to bed,” she whispered, trailing her fingers down his arm.
He groaned, reaching down to grab the blankets. “You are ill, woman. Go back to sleep.”
She shook her head, pulling the hem of his shirt from his breeches and slipping her hands underneath, flattening her palms against his abdomen. She nearly moaned at the rock-like hardness of stomach. “I am well enough,” she whispered, placing a soft kiss just below his neck.
Galen leaned the side of his face against hers, his lips brushing her ear. “If you do not stop, lass, soon I will not be able to stop myself.” He wrapped his arms around her waist, his palms smoothing down to cup her backside.
His heart thudded heavily against her chest and she whimpered, overwhelmed by how this man, who could probably have any woman he wanted with a simple snap of his fingers, could barely control himself with her. Her core throbbed. She rubbed her cheek against his and pressed an unhurried kiss below his earlobe.
“So, don’t stop,” Anna breathed into his ear.
Galen squeezed her buttocks and pressed his hard cock against her stomach, dropping his lips to her shoulder and kissing a path up to her neck.
What was this woman thinking, baiting him like this while she was ill? She was weakened and he shouldn’t take advantage of that.