by Glenn, Laura
His jaw twitched in irritation. Why was she being so mule-headed? He offered her everything he had—his home, his land, his clan. He did everything he could think of to make her life comfortable and to repay the great debt he owed her for assisting his escape, but she still would not accept him as her husband.
Was it because she assumed that damned pendant would be able to take her home and away from him? He had refused to consider the possibility before, but now he could no longer deny the questions in her eyes whenever she stared at the box on the mantle in their chamber. His stomach churned at the thought she might not want to stay with him.
“Laird,” came Cal’s voice from beside him.
Galen lifted his eyes as a hush fell over the room. Cal sat on the bench, holding a rolled parchment.
“The boys are back from tailing the suspected Gowrie we caught,” Cal quietly said.
“And?” Galen prodded as his attention was drawn to the parchment in Cal’s hands. It bore the seal of the king.
“We were right. He is a Gowrie.”
“What the hell is the Gowrie up to now?” Geoffrey whispered, leaning in from across the table.
Galen shook his head, clenching his jaw, and extended his hand toward Cal, who quickly placed the missive in his palm. Galen tore open the seal and unfurled the parchment. He scanned the contents, hoping the issue was something minor so he could concentrate on figuring out the Gowrie’s next move.
His hopes were quickly dashed. The king requested his presence in negotiating with the jarl of Orkney for the return of Gunn warriors captured in a skirmish on the mainland. He would be away for several weeks.
He would have to leave her.
Anna’s gaze burned into him from across the room and he lifted his eyes to hers. The sea-blue orbs he loved so much were round with concern and she slowly twisted a knot in the fabric of her skirt as if she could tell he had unpleasant news to give her.
He stood from the bench and, without taking his eyes off Anna, announced in a tone devoid of emotion, “Geoffrey, Cal, Michael, prepare to leave for Orkney on the morrow. The king requests the presence of the MacAirths.”
“About how long do you expect we will be gone?” Geoffrey set his mug of ale on the table before standing.
“I cannot say for certain,” Galen answered. “Several weeks, at least.”
A brittle silence loomed over the great hall as if not a person present dared to interrupt the palpable tension stretching between him and Anna. Galen refused to break the sudden quiet, determined Anna have the chance to speak first.
Her throat rippled in a nervous swallow before she bit her lower lip. He sighed, tossing the missive onto the table. He had not been away from her once in the two weeks they had been together. Now he thought of nothing other than how he would not be able to hold her again for many, many nights.
“Several weeks?” Anna finally said. “Can’t you be more specific?”
Galen shook his head.
“How far is Orkney?” she asked, her voice ringing with fragility.
An unfamiliar tightness gripped his chest. “About a six-day ride and then we will have to take a boat,” he answered. “The negotiations will take some time though, Anna, and will require some stops along the way to speak with other clans. It is not something we can rush.”
She pursed her lips and nodded briefly before standing and turning toward the stairs.
“Anna,” he called as his fingers curled into his fists at his sides.
How dare she walk away from him? He was not certain what he expected, but the thought of her rushing to his side and touching him appealed greatly at that moment, and he found himself strangely vexed when she did not do just that.
She stopped at the foot of the stairs and stood motionless for a moment. An ever-so-slight resigned inclination of her head caused him to forget all about forcing her to come to him. He unclenched his fists and strode purposefully toward her.
Gently grabbing Anna by the arms, he turned her to face him and effectively blocked everyone’s view of her with his body so as to maintain their privacy. When she did not look at him, he lifted her chin with his index finger.
“I am duty-bound to my king,” Galen whispered.
She nodded, casting her watery eyes to his, and his chest tightened. “I will miss you.”
His lips parted to speak, but no words escaped. He stared down at her, surprised by her admission.
Her fingers danced with the fabric of his shirt, just above his belt. The butterfly-like touches quickly drove him daft and his cock hardened. He covered her fingers, gripping them tightly to stop them.
A cold, restless knot formed in his stomach at the thought of leaving her for so long without her becoming his by law. “Marry me,” he insisted with a whisper, suddenly obsessed with gaining her pledge to be his wife.
She sighed and shook her head. “Galen—”
“It is in your own best interest, for your own safety that you become my wife.”
A shadow of irritation crossed her face and her eyes hardened. “Those are not reasons to get married.” She tore her hands away from him and stepped back.
“You have no other ties here, lass,” he replied, no longer attempting to hide the irritation from his voice. “It is unfathomable to me why you would continue to resist my offer of protection.”
Anna rolled her eyes and her mouth opened, but then shut it as though thinking better of saying what was truly on her mind.
The woman was maddening. How was he to know what she wanted if she refused to share her thoughts with him? “What is it? I demand you tell me.”
She shook her head, pursing her lips together in obvious anger. “Marriage is different here than in my homeland, I know that. So I do not understand what on earth you think to gain from marrying me. I have nothing, Galen. Do you get that? Nothing.”
A flash of grief pierced his heart. Did she not understand? He did not care that she had nothing to offer him other than herself. In fact, he preferred it that way. He liked that she had no family to deal with, could not have cared less she brought no wealth to his coffers. He had never been one to desire more than what he needed to care for his clan.
Galen shook his head in confusion and reached for her. What else on God’s green Earth could the woman possibly want from him he had not already given to her? “Tell me how marriage is so different here. Tell me what it is you require and it will be yours.”
She stepped back and closed her eyes, inhaling deeply. When she finally met his gaze, she gave him a small, apologetic smile. “I’m sorry, Galen. I think I must need a little more sleep. I’m not thinking clearly.”
Anna’s shifting eyes told him she was attempting to hide something else from him. “Lass—” he warned.
“You won’t leave without saying goodbye, will you?”
The pain in her voice was not lost on him. Having the distinct impression that now was not the time to press her further, he nodded. After all, the battle was not yet over. One day she would confide in him and he would be able to get her to see the rightness of their union.
It was not easy for him to allow Anna to ascend the stairs without going after her. He was not a man used to being denied what he wanted. Despite allowing him access to her body, the woman had surrounded herself with some sort of wall and he had not yet found a way to breach her defenses to possess the whole of her.
“Laird MacAirth.”
Galen turned and found Father Andrew standing next to him. Annoyed he had been so distracted he didn’t even sense the approach of the priest, Galen clenched his jaw.
“I apologize, Laird, but I could not help but overhear a little of the conversation,” Father Andrew spoke in a low tone. “I will be staying on for two more days and I would be happy to counsel the lass while you are away. Perhaps I can gain an understanding of why she does not wish to marry.”
He resisted the urge to snort. He already knew the answer. The problem was, the woman refused to tell him wha
t she needed to get over it. “She does not trust men,” Galen answered in a clipped voice.
“Ah, I see.” The priest rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “Then maybe I can spend some time convincing her about how marriage could be a benefit to her.”
Galen nodded as he mulled over the suggestion. The white collar around Father Andrew’s neck drew his attention and apprehension quickly came over him. He knew all too well what such counseling from a priest could entail and Anna would not take kindly to a lot of pressure being placed on her. Besides, even if the priest’s advice did drive her into his arms, is that how he wanted her to become his wife? Because she feared for her soul and not because she wanted him?
“You may speak with her.” He eyed the priest carefully. “But you may not frighten her. I will not have you pressuring her with talk of sin and hell. I want her to come to me of her own free will.”
Astonishment touched Father Andrew’s brows and he regarded Galen with concern for several moments. “But, son, the two of you are sinning. Hell is the result of such a mortal sin. Unless you both repent and pledge yourselves to one another, you will be damned.”
Galen’s spine stiffened. He’d never taken kindly to others telling him what he should or shouldn’t do, either. He and Anna certainly shared that affliction.
He faced the priest, his eyes never wavering from Father Andrew’s. “Then we will face the fires of damnation together.”
He brushed past the priest and strode to the door of the keep.
* * * * *
Anna closed the door to Adam’s chamber and padded down the corridor to the room she shared with Galen. Adam was healing quite well and soon would be able to ease into his daily activities. Perhaps she would even let him venture into the great hall in the morning. Then Catriona wouldn’t have to sneak into his room so often.
She laughed to herself. Earlier today she caught Catriona stretched out beside Adam on the bed as they had kissed. Both of their faces had flushed when they noticed Anna standing in the doorway.
She pushed open the door to her chamber and slipped inside, the warm room aglow with light. Even after two whole weeks of being tended to by the household staff in Galen’s employ, she was still humbled and delighted by how Mary was always thoughtful enough to sneak into the room and light the fire before Anna went to bed.
She prepared for sleep, trying to avoid her thoughts of Galen’s latest efforts to get her to agree to marry him. With what little she knew of Medieval history, she understood the logical choice was to marry him. After all, marriage here was based on simple economics, and women usually had little choice about whom they married. To actually have the opportunity to marry a man she had come to care so deeply about was a Godsend in this time period. So, why could she not get past her twenty-first-century ideals of love and marriage? Why was she holding out for some grand declaration of love when the last time she received one it was followed by an act of violence?
Perhaps it was simply because marriage was about economics in the thirteenth century. She had nothing to give to him—no political alliances, no land, no wealth. If that was what marriage was about here, then what on earth could Galen gain from marrying her? Without his love as assurance, couldn’t she easily be tossed aside should the political need arise or if his king demanded it? Isn’t that what England’s Henry VIII did—toss women aside when his affections or desires for a male heir led him elsewhere? Sure, it was a different century, a different country and different circumstances, but with no legal rights and no family to take her in should Galen do the unthinkable, how would she survive if that happened?
But how could she not marry him? She was sleeping with him, after all, and if the past week of near-nightly lovemaking was any indication, she would end up pregnant in no time…if she wasn’t already. She simply could not say no to the man. Hell, she didn’t want to say no. Never had a man held her sexual attention for so long or left her wanting more of him each time.
Anna pinched the bridge of her nose and closed her eyes. Her brain spun its wheels and dug deeper and deeper into the mud while her body threatened to short-circuit at the very thought of what she could do to Galen right then if he would only come to bed.
Out of the corner of her eye, she caught the carved, wooden box sitting on top of the fireplace mantle and a flash of the quartz pendant flew through her mind. As if possessed by unseen forces, she dashed to the fireplace and threw the open hinged lid of the box. Snatching the pendant, she secured it in her hands as she took a deep, calming breath.
As she opened her palm, the light from the fire danced upon the surface of the amber quartz. Home. That’s where she needed to be. She needed to be away from all of this—away from Scotland, away from the thirteenth century and away from Galen.
That last thought drew a sharp, shooting pain straight through the center of her chest. Tears stung her eyes.
Anna angrily wiped them away with the back of her hand. This was ridiculous. She had known the man for barely two weeks and he had proven himself to be arrogant, condescending, tyrannical and demanding. Not to mention pigheaded, sexist and warmongering.
Thoughts of his kindness, both to her and his clan, his loyalty, protectiveness, bravery and his humor crept into her mind.
She shoved them away. He didn’t love her. She was just “his” woman—a mere possession.
Home was where she belonged and home was where she was going. The fantasy was over. It was time for her to face reality.
She closed her eyes and concentrated on one word—home—as she delicately cradled the pendant in her palms. Several moments passed and the stone seemed to warm. Excited, she concentrated even harder, willing the temperature to rise farther.
And then it went cold.
Anna opened her eyes and stared at the quartz. Shadows danced around Galen’s bedchamber as the fire reflected off the facets.
Desolation and relief simultaneously descended upon her. Her shoulders slumped and she placed the stone back in the box, flipping the lid down with a small bang.
Weariness crept into her bones and she made her way to the bed to slip under the covers. Closing her eyes, she surrendered to the thoughts of Galen leaving in the morning she had been attempting to avoid. Her eyes moistened and she moved to the center of the bed. Grabbing Galen’s pillow, she stuffed it under her head. With his scent surrounding her, she succumbed to sleep.
* * * * *
Galen hesitated for a moment before opening the door to his chamber. Relief cracked open his weary heart as his eyes landed on Anna’s still form in the middle of the bed, her back toward the fire. The fear she might not be there waiting for him had plagued him while he and Geoffrey finalized the plans for their departure.
The fire had consumed most of the wood in the hearth, but it gave him just enough light to prepare his clothing for the morning. He removed what he was wearing, tossed the items into a heap in the corner of the room, and then slid under the covers behind Anna. He hated to awaken her, but he hated even more the thought of not being with her one last time before he left.
He stretched out on his side, pressing the length of his body along the melting softness of hers. Smoothing the curls back from her face, he brushed several soft, slow kisses down her neck and over her shoulder. A low moan escaped her lips and she snuggled against him.
He smiled against her neck and kissed it. He loved how ready and willing his woman was for his touch now. Two weeks ago, she was more likely to stall, to ask questions even as her body betrayed her by opening to him. He never wanted to take her when she had doubts. He required her mind to capitulate to him as well as her body. No longer having to hold back and wait for the signs of her surrender freed his mind to simply enjoy the feel of her, to plunge his cock into her at will without coaxing, without convincing.
Pressing his erection against her soft backside, he rubbed her silken hip and thigh with his palm, back and forth. He skidded his tongue across her shoulder to her earlobe and flicked it before taking
it into his mouth and tugging it with his teeth.
Anna slid her smooth palm up his shoulder and caressed the side of his face before turning her head and offering him her soft, parted lips. He claimed them with a desperate urgency, slipping his hand around her waist to her stomach. Their tongues met and slowly intertwined, circling one another for several moments before she slowly dragged hers across his lower lip. He kissed her upper lip, reveling in its sweetness, before drawing his mouth along her jaw as she turned her face away from his.
Galen caressed her abdomen as he kissed and swirled his tongue along her neck, over her shoulder and back as goose bumps spread across her stomach. She reached toward his thigh, gripping it as she wriggled her creamy backside against him. His cock throbbed insistently, pressing against her flesh.
He drew his hand up to cup one soft, ample breast, kneading it with his fingers and dragging his thumb back and forth across her nipple. It swelled beneath his touch. She whimpered, arching her back and thrusting her breast into his palm.
He tugged on her nipple and thrust his hips forward, nestling his cock against her soft backside. She curved her neck up to him and whimpered, tilting her hips in an erotic rhythm that sent pulsations of hot need through his shaft.
Dragging his fingers across her waist, he bit her neck. The honeyed taste of her skin sent an intoxicating swirl of contentment though his blood. He smoothed his hand over her backside and kneaded her flesh.
“Make me come,” she whispered.
He smiled against her neck. Her juices coated his fingers as they slipped between her thighs. He dipped them into her hot, wet core and then up to her swollen clit.
A ragged groan fell from her lips and she bent her knees, pressing her ass against his aching cock. He grunted his approval and dragged his tongue across her shoulder as he plunged his thumb into her pussy. He dragged it out and drove it back in as his fingers moved back and forth on her clit.