Claimed by a Laird

by Glenn, Laura

  “Thank you for coming, my lady,” He bowed his head toward Anna. “Lizzie will be most grateful.”

  “This is Gabriel, my brother,” Lachlan announced.

  The uneasiness in both of the men’s voices was not lost on Anna. She darted a look between the brothers as Lachlan shifted uncomfortably while worry creased Gabriel’s brow.

  She forced a confident smile onto her lips. “I am pleased to meet you, Gabriel. Is the midwife here?”

  He nodded. “Lizzie’s aunt is rubbing a salve on her hands right now, but the old woman does not think it is helping much.” He paused and glanced furtively at Catriona and Lachlan before leaning toward Anna. “Lizzie thinks she is going to die,” he whispered. “You cannot allow that to happen. Please.”

  That last word, spoken with such anguish, shrunk the large, intimidating warrior into a helpless little boy right before her eyes. Anna’s heart ached to tell him all would be well.

  “I will do everything in my power to ensure that doesn’t happen.” She silently prayed for a textbook birth.

  He nodded, trust filling his eyes, which did little to ease her nervousness. Stepping aside, he pushed the door open and bade her to enter.

  Catriona moved away from the door toward Lachlan.

  “Aren’t you coming?” Anna asked.

  Catriona shook her head. “It is not allowed, my lady.”

  “She is not yet married,” Gabriel explained.

  Anna resisted the urge to snort. Of course young women wouldn’t be allowed to watch a birth. Men might not be able to get them to marry if they knew what was in store for them in nine months or so.

  “You are our laird’s woman so it is fine for you to attend to Lizzie.” Gabriel obviously thought she was slow to understand his meaning.

  Great. Now she was being pressured by the clan into becoming Galen’s woman too.

  Images of her recent dream haunted her. She did not want to be in a relationship with a man who didn’t truly love her.

  “I am not his anything,” she snapped. Regret instantly washed over her and she shook her head at her inability to filter her thoughts before they spilled out of her mouth. “I am so sorry, Gabriel. I didn’t mean to sound angry with you.”

  “No, no. It is fine, my lady. Lachlan said you have been having a difficult transition—”

  Lachlan loudly cleared his throat.

  Anna glanced at him and he offered her a sheepish smile. Was her reticence really that obvious?

  A whimper from inside the house broke through her preoccupation. Anna shook her head in exasperation, determined to put the matter aside for the moment, and stepped inside the cozy, one-room dwelling.

  Centered on the far wall was a rubble stone mantle, a fire blazing in the hearth. In the middle of the room was a wooden table with long benches on either side that held two middle-aged women who introduced themselves as Lizzie’s and Catriona’s aunts. To the right of the fireplace was a large bed covered in a patchwork quilt with furs tossed across the foot. Lizzie lay in the middle. Clumps of brown hair hung in front of her face and her features were etched with exhaustion.

  The midwife, who had surely seen the fall of Rome with her own two eyes, eased to her feet and greeted Anna by extending a bony hand. “Thank you for coming, my lady. I am Katherine.”

  Anna gently took her hand in both of hers and smiled, pushing her fears aside. “Pleased to meet you. I am happy to assist in any way I can.”

  She released Katherine’s hand and sat on the bed next to Lizzie. Anna brushed Lizzie’s hair away from the side of her face and tucked it behind her ears.

  Lizzie thanked her in a whisper, barely looking Anna in the eye.

  “The pain has been most intense for the lass,” Katherine offered, patting Lizzie’s foot through the blankets. “But the pains are not coming closer together as they should.”

  Anna nodded. Walking the halls of the maternity ward at the hospital had helped women with stalled labors. “Shall we take a walk around the house, then?” She stood and held out her hands to Lizzie. “I know you are tired, but a little exercise sometimes helps the laboring go faster.”

  Katherine nodded. Lizzie glanced at the midwife and threw the blankets back. She grabbed Anna’s hands and Anna helped pull her to standing.

  Moving to Lizzie’s side, Anna took her by the forearm and supported it with both of her hands. Gently leading her around the perimeter of the room, Anna instructed, “Let me know when a pain comes and we’ll pause so you can lean against the wall or a table. Squatting may also help.”

  Lizzie offered Anna a shy, but frightened smile.

  “Don’t worry,” Anna replied, buoyed by a sudden and inexplicable confidence. “We’ll coax that wee little one out yet.”

  * * * * *

  It was a textbook perfect birth—once Lizzie’s labor finally kicked into gear. Katherine was an excellent teacher and quite hilarious, much to Anna’s surprise. Anna learned a lot and actually contributed with her detailed knowledge of the female anatomy. She even got to “catch” the baby—one of the most thrilling and sobering experiences of her life—something no obstetrician had ever allowed her to do.

  The village was well into its morning routine by the time Lizzie and the baby were cleaned and settled into bed. The aunts chatted excitedly as they tidied the cottage. Anna couldn’t help but smile as she half listened to the joyful women, despite her dark thoughts about the fate of this little infant in such a bloody, harsh time period. When they finished, Anna said goodbye to the ladies and Lizzie, promising to check in on her later in the day.

  She sighed and walked into the sunshine of late morning, her back stiff and her hair falling into her eyes. She was followed by one of Lizzie’s and Catriona’s aunts, who cheerfully announced to a very anxious, pale-faced Gabriel that Lizzie was ready to see him.

  Looking toward the keep, Anna spotted Galen, casually leaning against a tree several yards ahead. He smiled and her heart leaped. A sudden need to feel his strong, roped arms encircling her as she drank in his warmth overwhelmed her.

  She smiled shyly as she walked toward him. Her nipples immediately responded to the mere memory of his flesh pressed into hers.

  Shouldn’t what she just witnessed, as beautiful and life-affirming as it had been, be enough to make her never want him to touch her again? Especially considering she had no access to any sort of birth control?

  Flashbacks of Galen towering over her, leaning down to kiss her and wrapping his arms around her, assailed her senses. She squeezed her eyes shut briefly to rid herself of the images.

  Lord, was she ever in trouble.

  Galen grinned lazily as she slowly approached. “What were you thinking of back there?” he asked, eyes twinkling as if he could read her thoughts.

  She scowled at just how much of an open book she was to this guy. “Nothing in particular.” She adopted a casual tone and crossed her arms to put a protective layer between them.

  “Did it go well?”

  She nodded. “Really well.”

  “Good.”

  “It’s a boy,” she offered as an awkward silence threatened to fall upon them. “I’m sure you’ll be happy to hear that.”

  He shrugged. “A boy is a blessing to any family.”

  Anna rolled her eyes. “And another warrior to add to your clan.”

  He raised his eyebrows and thoughtfully stroked his chin. “I suppose.”

  “You suppose?”

  Her stomach twisted over the thought such a perfect, helpless little being could someday grow up only to be attacked and nearly killed as Adam had the day before. If she stayed with Galen, became his wife like he wanted her to, would she be facing the same fate as Lizzie? Doomed to be the mother of warriors and to bury them as well?

  She shook her head and turned to walk to the keep. No way would a warlord like Galen understand her fears and she had no intention of standing there, trying to explain them when she was this bone-tired.

  “Anna?”r />
  She ignored him, determined to go to bed and hopefully not dream of him, Adam’s injuries or childbirth.

  Galen’s large hand grabbed her arm and spun her around. “Do not walk away from me when I am speaking with you.”

  Anna shrugged his hand off her arm, staring past his shoulder to the mountains behind him.

  “Now.” His voice took on an even, straightforward tone as he clasped his hands behind his back. “Tell me why you are angry with me.”

  “It’s not you, I’m just angry at all of this.” She threw her hands into the air. “That baby. That innocent, precious—”

  Exhaustion smacked into her as tears stung her eyes. Her face fell into her hands and she breathed deeply in an attempt to regain her composure.

  A warm, comforting hand gripped her shoulder.

  She squeezed her eyes shut. “I’m just having a hard time with the idea such an innocent little being could grow up only so he can die for you on the battlefield.”

  Galen leaned closer and she dropped her hands to her sides as she lifted her head, daring to take in his reaction. To her surprise, he didn’t seem angry about her accusation. Just confused.

  “I do my best to prevent conflict, lass. But to die in battle is an honorable end to an honorable life. A warrior accepts this. The child will accept it as well when he grows to manhood.”

  She bit her lower lip as tears threatened to roll down her cheeks. “And what of his mother? What of Lizzie? She spent many excruciating hours giving him life and now she’s just supposed to stand idly by while this world cruelly rips him from her? Is that what I am supposed to do if I marry you? Just watch as my son follows you into battle?”

  A strange, inscrutable expression danced across his face and he tilted his head down toward her, placing a tentative kiss upon her forehead. “I do not know what you wish for me to say,” he whispered with a shake of his head.

  Anna’s shoulders slumped. She hadn’t expected any other answer from him, but his admittance to being just as helpless as everyone else tore the last ounce of strength from her body. Tears spilled from her eyes.

  “Woman,” Galen warned as he dropped his hand from her shoulder.

  The stress and lack of sleep caught up with her. She pushed against his chest in frustration, her ire heightened by the fact he didn’t even flinch. “What the hell is wrong with you? Haven’t you ever seen a woman cry before?”

  “Of course, but—”

  “Then stop acting like an ass and let me cry.” She crossed her arms once again.

  He paused for the briefest of moments and then encircled her tightly in his arms. She sniffled, pressing her cheek against his chest as the tears continued to fall.

  His warmth seeped into her skin, soothing her aching heart, and her tears subsided, leaving her with nothing but Galen’s heartbeat pounding steadily in her ear. A soothing wave of comfort washed over her, but then her heart snapped shut. She hated crying in front of people, especially men. It made her too vulnerable. Too open to further pain.

  “Take me home,” she whispered, averting her eyes from his intense stare. “I need to sleep.”

  He nodded and placed a quick kiss on her brow before engulfing her hand in his.

  “Laird MacAirth!” a voice called behind them.

  They stopped and turned as a tall, thin man with gray streaks running through his brown hair huffed up the hill toward them.

  “Good morning, Laird! Is it not a fine one?”

  “It is, Father,” Galen answered. “I trust your journey here went well.”

  “That it did. That it did indeed.”

  The priest, who wore a long black coat with a white collar, stopped in front of them and pulled his leather satchel off his shoulder, allowing it to slip to the ground. Smiling broadly, he propped his hands on his hips.

  “Father, this is Anna,” Galen said, squeezing her hand. “Anna, this is Father Andrew MacIntosh. He is the priest for this area of the Highlands.”

  “Ah, so this is the lass I have heard so much about!” The man warmly took Anna’s hand. “It is a pleasure to finally meet you.”

  Anna returned his smile. He radiated warmth and kindness, vaguely reminding her of her Uncle Ian.

  Father Andrew released her and clasped his hands together in a prayerful pose, looking at Anna and then Galen. “Forgive me for bringing this up so quickly, but since I have the both of you alone, there is something I would like to speak to you about. Geoffrey mentioned your situation when he saw me a few days ago. I would like to offer the Church’s blessing on contracting your marriage.”

  Anna dropped Galen’s hand like a hot coal, her eyes widening in astonishment. “Contracting what?” she asked, hoping she had misheard the priest.

  “Your marriage,” Father Andrew repeated, raising one eyebrow. “Geoffrey told me the laird was taking you as his wife. I assumed you had exchanged oaths…” He furrowed his brow in concern.

  An urge to escape settled into the pit of her stomach. As if sensing her panic, Galen draped his massive palm around the back of her neck.

  “You are living with one another, are you not?” Father Andrew asked.

  “Yes, we are,” Galen answered.

  “As if I had much of a choice,” Anna muttered, giving him a sideways glance.

  Galen cocked his head at her. “You have never mentioned you found our arrangement distasteful.”

  “Oh, so I could move into an empty cottage in the village if I wanted to?” she countered, knowing full well what his reaction would be.

  “Over my cold, dead body,” he growled, squeezing her neck.

  Anna yanked on his hand, the weight of it suddenly suffocating her. “Galen, let go of me.”

  “Now, now, I did not mean to cause an argument between the two of you.” Father Andrew’s voice was rough with anxiety.

  “Why not tell Father the real reason you are picking a fight with me?” Galen drawled, his stormy eyes boring into hers.

  “What?” She crossed her arms. “You think I have a problem admitting to a priest the thought of marriage scares the bejesus out of me?”

  “Lass,” Father Andrew admonished.

  Anna resisted the urge to roll her eyes and instead turned the conversation in another direction. “I’m sorry. I have been up all night attending a birth, so I’m not really feeling like myself at the moment.”

  “Oh!” The priest’s face broke into a wide smile. “And to whom does this newest blessing belong?”

  “Gabriel and Lizzie.” Galen motioned toward the cottages behind them. “It is the third one on the right.”

  “Well then, Anna, I shall let you get your rest.” Father Andrew patted her gently on the arm. “I am sorry for upsetting you. Perhaps the three of us can talk later?”

  When Anna didn’t immediately respond, Galen jabbed her in the back.

  “Of course, Father.” She forced a serene smile onto her face. “I am sorry for snapping.”

  He waved away her apology and stooped to retrieve his satchel. “Think nothing of it. Have a good rest, my dear.”

  Galen fiercely latched onto her hand with his and nearly dragged her toward the keep.

  Tension bounced between them, pressing on her chest.

  Galen bent his head toward hers. “Does living with me make you unhappy?”

  The strangely vulnerable tone in his voice gave her pause. She glanced up at him while they walked. A slight crinkle creased his brow as he stared down at her. Her heart warmed and she wove her fingers into his.

  “No,” she whispered, shaking her head. Lord, help her, but at that moment she couldn’t think of another place she would rather be—including her own time.

  She leaned the side of her face against his bicep, grabbing onto his forearm with her free hand. He placed a soft kiss on top of her head.

  “I am not the Gowrie man you were married to.” His voice was a bare whisper she almost missed.

  She nodded against his arm. “I know.”

 
; “Then what is it that you fear?”

  She smiled over the gentleness in Galen’s voice despite his obvious confusion. Tears stung her eyes, but she fought them back. She shrugged. “I don’t know. Everything, I guess. My parents’ relationship didn’t work out. I had a string of four stepfathers and several almost-stepfathers. I married a psycho. Take your pick. They’re all equally valid reasons for not wanting to get married again.”

  “And what is it, exactly, that I have in common with any of these men?”

  “Me,” she whispered.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Galen trailed Anna with his eyes throughout the evening. The laughter and conversations in the great hall after supper barely registered in his ears any longer. It had been nearly a week since Father Andrew had arrived. At Galen’s request, the two of them had not spoken of marriage again, despite the priest’s growing discomfort with Galen and Anna’s living arrangement.

  Anna had been called in to attend another birth the previous night and dark smudges remained below her eyes despite her nap earlier in the day. It was the first time in a week they had not been able to spend the night entwined in one another’s arms before succumbing to sleep, and a desperate need to touch her roared within him. The only thing that stopped him from throwing her over his shoulder and dragging her up to his chamber was her strangely pensive mood. She was not speaking much to the others around her this evening, which was unusual. She appeared lost in her thoughts, yet content, though he could tell her past preyed on her mind.

  It irked him something fierce that no matter what he did or how well he treated her, she did not ultimately see him as any different than the other men in her life who had treated her so poorly. How could a woman who had so bravely assisted his escape from the Graham dungeon and who had faced a new life in foreign surroundings with all of the grace and dignity of a queen, allow her fear of men to prevent her from accepting him as her husband? What woman in her right mind would prefer the status of mistress to that of a wife?

  Yes, they were essentially married in the eyes of his clan. He had told them she was his woman, which was tantamount to publicly declaring his marriage oath. They shared a household and, more importantly, they shared a bed. No one questioned him about the fact he never mentioned whether or not Anna had given him her pledge, but he did want her to at least give her oath to him. He needed to hear the words, much to his confusion and annoyance.