Claimed by a Laird

by Glenn, Laura

A confusing mixture of fear and anger swirled through her and she gripped Cal’s hand to steady herself as they moved forward. The dog moved with them, placing himself slightly ahead of Anna, almost as if to protect her.

  As they approached, a young, bloodied man kneeling before Galen came into view. Eyes widening in distress, Anna released her hold on Cal and dashed toward the prisoner.

  The dog darted in front of her, stopping her in her tracks, and growled through bared teeth at the kneeling man. The prisoner glanced up at the huge beast, fear flashing through his hazel eyes.

  Anna froze, unable to tear her stare away from the man before her. The color of his eyes were all too familiar. More golden than green or brown—just like James. His nose, the turn of his jaw and his body structure all whispered of a connection to her ex. Her stomach flipped in distress.

  But then there was his golden-brown hair, much lighter than James’ had been. Thankfully, other minor physical differences finally leaped out at her and she was able to breathe again.

  She shook her head to rid it of her thoughts of James. “Dog!” she commanded, walking around the animal to examine the prisoner’s injuries.

  The dog quieted and sat on his haunches, watchfully eying them.

  The young man suffered from a swollen eye and a nasty gash on his cheek just below. He held one wrist with his other hand, the knuckles torn and bleeding. He glanced up at her in relief before dropping his attention to the amber quartz pendant lying against her chest.

  Anna searched the room for someone to assist her and found Mary standing in the shadows near the corridor that led to the kitchen. “Mary, bandages, soap and hot water, please.”

  “Stay where you are, Mary,” Galen ordered.

  Anna turned toward him in exasperation, propping her hands on her hips. “You know very well I cannot leave him like this.”

  “It would be a simple waste of time, lass, since he is a dead man already,” Galen replied through gritted teeth, his blackened expression on the man before him.

  Anna bolted between Galen and the prisoner. “Not while he is in my care.”

  Galen menacingly stepped toward her, causing her to tilt her head back just to look him in the eye. His stormy countenance and twitch in his jaw were almost enough to shake her resolve.

  She swallowed hard. Galen would never physically hurt her. But, damn it all, the man was frightening when he was riled. “I will not let you intimidate me,” she whispered, steeling her will.

  “What is this obsession of yours with protecting men who do not deserve your concern?” he whispered back. “First the Graham guard and now this man whose friends nearly killed Adam.”

  Anna crossed her arms and matched his scowl. “I heal people, not hurt them. Revenge gets no one anywhere.”

  His jaw clenched, causing the scar on his cheek to twitch as a flicker of barely restrained fury crossed his face. “You forget, my sweet. You are in the Highlands. Revenge gets you everywhere.”

  His breath settled across her cheek like a caress. She shivered, tilting her head up in defiance. “Then at least let me heal him enough to make it a fair fight.”

  Their lips were only mere inches apart. His power radiated outward, seeping into her skin and shaking her to her core. Lightheaded, her lips parted slightly and she resisted the urge to lick them.

  His eyes glinted sliver, the corners crinkling slightly as a barely perceptible, arrogant smile quickly passed across his mouth and then disappeared as if it were only meant for her.

  “A fair fight?” one of the warriors behind her snapped. “That is not what Adam got.”

  With the spell broken, Galen stepped back and Anna turned toward the speaker, ready to lecture the young warrior on the concept of basic human rights.

  Then it hit her. She had been going about this all wrong. In order to get what she wanted, she had to quit using modern arguments and instead play the game with thirteenth-century ideals. “You are a MacAirth,” she retorted, confidence surging through her. “The Gowries may be dishonorable and underhanded, but you are not.”

  The young man averted his eyes from her admonishing stare. Satisfied, she turned around to deal with Galen. She opened her mouth—

  “Move away from him, woman.”

  Afraid she was quickly losing the battle, she grabbed Galen’s forearms. “Galen, you don’t know who sent them. If you kill him, you may never find out for certain,” she whispered.

  He stared at her for the briefest moment before grabbing her by the arms and lifting her off to the side.

  “No!” She reached for Galen to stop him as he moved toward the prisoner.

  Cal grabbed her from behind and pulled her back. “My lady, it is the laird’s right.”

  Stunned into silence and certain she was about to witness something for which she would never forgive Galen, a sickening wave of horror swept through her.

  He leaned down and grabbed the prisoner by the neck, digging his fingers into the man’s skin. “Saved by a woman,” he sneered as the young man sputtered, struggling for breath. “Lucky bastard. Remember this. Remember how your life was spared by the MacAirths, but never forget I might change my mind a few moments or a few days from now, depending upon my mood.”

  He shoved the wheezing man backward and ordered his men to take him out into the courtyard. “Mary, you may do as your lady wishes now.”

  Mary nodded and scurried out of the room.

  “You may treat him outside if that is still your wish.” Galen turned toward Anna. “I will not have his blood tainting my floor.”

  Anna nodded, twisting her skirt around her fingers. She breathed deeply in an effort to slow her erratic heartbeat.

  Galen jerked his head for Cal to step away from her. He did and followed Mary into the kitchen.

  Galen and Anna stared at one another for several moments before he reached for her. She stepped back. He grunted his disapproval and wrapped his fingers around her upper arms, yanking her toward him.

  “I am sorry to have used you like that, but it was necessary to make him both fear my retaliation and be grateful for your interference. I will send men to follow him and we will hopefully know who was behind this in a few days.”

  Her eyes widened in surprise. He had just played the classic good-cop/bad-cop game and it had worked beautifully. “You mean that I…that you…”

  He chuckled, bending his face toward hers. “God help me, but you make me hard when you act so defiant.”

  Anna’s face flushed. His lips barely brushed across hers and she whimpered.

  “If that bastard weren’t out there bleeding all over my courtyard, I would bend you over that table right now.”

  No man had ever spoken to her with such raw imagery and desire before. Surprised by the quick effect his words had on her, she slowly licked her lips, her skin tingling with anticipation. “Then why don’t you?” she challenged with a seductive smile as a deep ache spread between her thighs.

  He returned her smile. “Could you imagine Mary’s reaction when she found us?”

  “There would be hot water and bandages everywhere.” She laughed, glancing furtively toward the corridor leading to the kitchen.

  His laugh was throaty. He paused briefly and then his mouth slowly descended upon her lips as he pressed his body into hers. The slow, shivery kiss caused her knees to buckle and she wrapped her arms around his waist for support.

  Someone forced a cough behind them and Galen lifted his head. Anna turned to find Cal carrying a bowl of steaming water and a blushing Mary with an armload of bandages by his side.

  Anna bit her lower lip to keep from laughing and Galen released her from his arms.

  “The table will have to wait until another day,” he whispered, gently shoving her after them.

  She threw an impish smile at him over her shoulder and hurried along, out into the fading sunlight.

  Chapter Eleven

  Finally, Galen could breathe.

  He strode across the courtyard, his
wet hair dripping down the front of his leine. Surely the woman was finished with her bath by now.

  After they had finished their evening meal and two of his men had carried the tub up to his chamber and filled it, Galen could not stay in the keep knowing Anna would soon be slipping her naked body into the warm water. The visions of her creamy skin glistening in the firelight were enough to override his willpower. As soon as she ascended the stairs, he left the hall and made his way to the loch behind the keep so she could have a few moments of peace after her strenuous day.

  To say he was impressed with her was an understatement. She rivaled even him when it came to hurling orders, and his men responded without question. Nor did she shrink from the duty before her. He had seen the fear in her eyes, but her hands had remained steady and her attention to the tiniest detail was truly amazing. He did not think he had ever seen such even, perfect stitches in his entire life.

  But now it was finally time. Anna’s duties were done. She was feeling well. And he had her all to himself.

  The hall was quiet as he entered. Only Mary remained, cleaning off the tables in preparation for the next morning.

  “Has your lady finished her bath yet?” he asked, approaching the fireplace.

  “Not that I know of, Laird.”

  He nodded and tossed his belt over the back of the chair in front of which his dog was lying. He knelt and gave the animal a sound pat.

  “Do you need anything before I retire, Laird?”

  Galen glanced over his shoulder. “No, thank you, Mary.”

  He turned his attention back to the fire and sighed. “The woman is trying my patience, Dog.”

  The dog’s tail thumped against the floor for several moments and then abruptly stopped. His ears perked up and he lifted his head to stare past Galen.

  Galen stood and turned toward the door as footsteps echoed on the stone stairs outside. Within seconds, the door was thrown open and his brother, Geoffrey, stepped into the hall.

  Dog leaped up and bounded across the room. Geoffrey laughed as the animal hopped up on its hind legs, propped his giant paws on his shoulders and licked his face.

  “Dog!” Galen reprimanded.

  The beast hopped down and scampered back to his master. Sitting back on his haunches, he panted as Geoffrey joined his brother by the fire.

  “Father Andrew would have come around eventually, you know. There was no need for you to chase after him just to have him bless my union with Anna.” Galen crossed his arms.

  Especially since he still needed time to convince her that marrying him was the right thing to do.

  “It is not why I went,” Geoffrey answered, his voice low and secretive. “It is simply what I told Adam.”

  Galen eyed him with suspicion. “Out with it.”

  Geoffrey paused for several moments, uncertainty twisting his mouth. He pulled a small, flat rectangular object from behind his back and handed it to Galen. “When we were bringing Anna home, we stopped to rest for a few moments near the river. I found a brown, leather satchel caught on some branches overhanging the water. This was inside.”

  In an instant, Galen was drawn back to the cold, rushing river where he had almost lost Anna. Water roaring in his ears. Her delicate fingers slipping from his. Those dark, frantic moments searching for her until he was almost taken under by the current. And then slogging to shore, praying she was strong enough to at least make it to the surface so he could find her.

  Galen paused in uncertainty, the images fading from his mind as he stared at the small, shiny article in Geoffrey’s outstretched hand. A perfect, life-like rendering of Anna in one corner caught his eye and he finally took it from his brother.

  Amazed, he slowly rubbed his thumb over the glass-like surface of her likeness. “What is it?”

  “I do not know,” Geoffrey admitted. “It is the truth that Father Andrew did not know either.”

  Galen’s head snapped up, certain Geoffrey was withholding a key piece of information. “Then why did you take this to him? Why did you not wait for me to come home?”

  “He is the only person I know who can read English. I figured that is what those words are.”

  “And?” Galen prodded as a pit formed in his stomach.

  A pained expression passed across Geoffrey’s face as he took the object back and tilted it toward the fire. He pointed to one word.

  “This says Anna. And this…” Geoffrey slid his finger to the next word. “Says Campbell.”

  Galen could have sworn his heart had stopped beating. A Campbell? His Anna was a Campbell?

  “Are you sure?” he asked, his voice barely escaping his throat.

  Geoffrey nodded solemnly. “I asked Father Andrew several times and he assured me he was quite certain.”

  Galen shook his head. It simply could not be. The MacPhearson messenger had sworn no Campbell of Maree the laird or his sister knew of fit Anna’s description. Perhaps another Campbell clan to the south could claim her. Lord knew there were enough Campbells to go around in the Highlands. And if Anna were truly from the future, why wouldn’t she simply admit her family name to him? Why keep it a secret?

  From deep within his memory, an image of the current Campbell laird, Alec—the man who had killed his father and did the Gowrie’s dirty work for him—floated into his mind. The red hair, the deep blue eyes. Was he Anna’s ancestor?

  “Father Andrew could not understand what any of the rest of the words meant,” Geoffrey interrupted his thoughts. “Driver’s license. Then there are these random numbers. Oh, and this word here he thought might be French. Il-lin-wa. Or something like that.” Geoffrey shook his head in confusion.

  Galen grabbed the object and stared at the picture once again, just to reassure himself Anna was indeed looking back at him. “Did you instruct Father—”

  “Yes. He will not tell anyone about this.”

  Galen shook his head again. How could Anna have kept this from him? What kind of game was she playing?

  “I am sorry, Galen,” Geoffrey said. “I did not mean to—”

  “I know.” Galen’s heart weighed heavy in his chest. Just what was he supposed to do with her now?

  “I do not believe her intention is to harm you, though,” Geoffrey quickly offered.

  Galen stared at him, surprised by the change in his brother’s opinion of Anna.

  “While she was fevered, I asked her why she helped you and she told me because she could not let her future husband rot in some smelly dungeon.”

  The words were slow to penetrate Galen’s brain. They sunk in only when a crooked, teasing smile spread across his brother’s face. “Why did Adam not tell me this?” Galen’s heart finally began to beat again.

  “I did not ask her until after I had settled her in your chamber. Adam was not there,” Geoffrey answered. “I wanted to know what we were up against before I approached you or Adam with this.”

  Galen wrapped his fingers tightly around the object, the sharp sides cutting into his flesh with surprising force. What the hell kind of material was this thing made of? “Where is the satchel now?”

  “Hidden in the stables.”

  Silence fell between them as Galen mulled this new complication over in his mind. Taking a woman from a rival clan was tantamount to declaring war, even if she was some distant descendant currently unknown to them. Though Anna was not of his time, knowledge of her family name could be used as an excuse should the wrong person hear of it.

  Such as the Gowrie. That bastard would use every trick in the book to take Anna away from him under the guise of defending his subordinate clan, the Campbells.

  “She told me her parents were Scottish,” Galen quietly remarked. “That is why she speaks our tongue.”

  “And her father is apparently a Campbell. I do not believe I have ever heard of Alec Campbell having a daughter. Perhaps she was born out of wedlock.” Geoffrey rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “Or maybe her father was from one of the Campbell clans to the south.”
>
  Galen straightened his back and faced his brother squarely. “Do you stand with me or against me?”

  “With you, of course.” Geoffrey crossed his arms. “Anna is my sister now. Especially after hearing what she did for Adam.”

  Galen nodded in satisfaction and flicked the object into the fireplace. The fire coughed and sputtered, throwing sparks up the chimney. Galen paused, transfixed as the strange object oozed and appeared to melt like the ice on the banks of their loch during the spring thaw.

  “What the hell is that thing made of?” Geoffrey marveled.

  “Are there other things with writing in that satchel?” Galen asked.

  Geoffrey nodded.

  Galen turned and started toward the stairs. “Burn them.”

  * * * * *

  Anna shivered as she attempted to relax into the tepid water. Mary and Catriona had tried to heat the water for her bath but, even though they’d carried pot after pot upstairs from the kitchen, the water quickly lost its heat. Anna closed her eyes and leaned against the back of the tub, breathing slowly and silently thanking the two young warriors who had been thoughtful enough to place the tub next to the fire so she could a least have a modicum of warmth.

  The thought she may never have the luxury of a truly hot bath ever again flitted through her mind and she sighed in annoyance. She pushed the unpleasant notion aside and grabbed the soap Catriona left on a stool next to the tub. Though the bath may not have been ideal, the removal of all the grime that had accumulated over the past couple of days was enough to send her into a long, relaxed sigh of gratefulness.

  She set her fingers to scrubbing her scalp, dreading combing her hair since she had no access to conditioner. She put the soap back and leaned forward, shoving most of her head into the water and rinsing her hair clean.

  She flipped her hair over her head and it smacked her back with a wet thud. She smoothed the stray strands across her shoulders and wiped the water away from her face.

  A pair of heavily muscled thighs greeted her when she opened her eyes. She gasped and scrambled lower in the water, only allowing her head to remain above. She would know those legs anywhere.