Captured by the Pirate Laird (11 page)

Calum
straightened the blanket, and gazed to the dark blue loch that pooled at the
bottom of the hill.

Anne
leaned into him. “I thought Uncle had forgotten about me—at least I hoped he had.
I assumed myself too valuable to the estate. And Mother needed me. I-I could
have died when I was called to the parlor and he presented me with the decree.”

“Ye
weren’t even consulted?”

“No.
Upon my father’s death, the king granted my uncle full power over me—all the
children. The same plight could befall my younger sisters.”

“But
couldna ye say no?”

“And
suffer the wrath of my queen…Put in jeopardy my family’s name?”

His
finger resumed its light caressing. “’Tis an unsettled world in which we live.”

Anne
bent forward and pressed the heel of her free hand against her forehead. “Yes,
and it seems a mere maid is of no significance in it.”

Calum
sat up and cupped her face in his hands. “Ye cannot say that. Ye are no
mere
lass. Ye are tender hearted—Look
how ye’ve helped with the keep and the children. You’re the most beautiful and caring
woman I have ever laid eyes upon.”

His
gaze bore through to her soul, the connection so intense, a yearning swelled
from her breasts to her core. In a blink, Calum’s eyes lowered to her lips.

Anne’s
breath quickened. Oh how deeply she wished to feel his mouth over hers. “I
cannot sleep at night, for the memory of your lips upon mine is burned into my heart.”

Calum
brushed his lips across hers. Anne moaned as his tongue entered her mouth. Tasting
spicy male, her heart raced. She laced her fingers through his silken hair, and
Calum leaned into her. Heart thundering in her ears, Anne pushed into his
kisses with unbridled passion. This could be the only chance she would ever
have to feel the caress of a young, virile man, to be held by conditioned arms
that could fight for her, protect her.

With
his hand supporting her back, he laid her down. “Nor can I sleep for the memory
of ye, milady.”

Anne
relaxed into the blanket. Calum’s feathery kisses cascaded down the length of
her neck. Then lower. Anne arched her back. He parted her cloak and swirled his
tongue over the flesh above her bodice. Her breathing ragged, her heart racing,
all that existed was Calum’s seducing lips. Her breasts filled with longing, then
his finger dipped below her bodice and stroked a taut nipple. She wanted to cry
out with the tingling that rippled across her skin.

“No,
Calum.” Somehow she forced an ill-timed, throaty whisper.

An
unwanted tickle in the back of her mind chimed a warning. Kissing, yes, but she
should not allow
this
. She took in a
deep breath and pressed against his chest. “We cannot.”

Calum
pulled away, his brow furrowed and his eyes dark and drawn as if she’d plunged
her father’s dagger into his heart. “But why? I ken ye like it by the way ye
respond.”

She
sat up and scooted away. “’Tis not a question of how my body responds.” If only
he would understand. “I want to kiss you and lock away the memory in my heart
for all the years I’ll be cloistered with a man old enough to be my
grandfather.”

He
fingered her veil. “I promise I will no’ take your innocence, but let me show
you love.”

Anne
stared into his eyes. The honesty there assured her his words were true. She
wanted this—wanted him more than she’d ever wanted anything in her life. She
let him pull her into his embrace and met his lips while the raging storm in
her loins coiled with a fire so intense, she feared restlessness had taken up
permanent residence.

Bran
crashed through the woods and skidded onto the blanket. “I found the nest—but
we’ll have a difficult time reaching it. I think we need wings.”

Calum
quickly pulled away, and Anne brushed her fingers across her mouth looking
anywhere but at their chaperone. The memory of Calum’s lips singed her flesh as
if they were still upon her. She closed her eyes and wished they did not have
to stop. Whatever it was that continually sparked between them stirred a desire
neither could resist. But Calum had vowed not to take her innocence, and she
fully trusted the laird to honor his word.

***

Calum
never should have kissed her breasts. Every time they were alone, he lost control.
If Bran had not arrived when he did, Calum would have had Anne’s skirts up
around her waist. His wayward urgings be damned. How often did he need to
remind himself she was never meant to be his?

“Bran—Help
Lady Anne mount her pony.”

Both
the lad and Anne gaped at him, but Calum turned his attention to adjusting his
stallion’s girth. “Me saddle was slipping a bit.” It was a fib, but a necessary
one to regain his composure.

Calum
couldn’t bring himself to place his hands on the lady’s waist just now. Images
of her stuttered breathing and flushed skin beneath his lips were too vivid and
raw. His lips still burned with the sensation of her silken skin, ripe and
yielding to his kisses.

He
watched Bran try to lift her by the waist. Though a strapping lad, he had
nowhere near enough strength, and Anne caught herself on his shoulders before
they both sprawled over backwards. Calum resisted his urge to dash to her side
and sweep her into his arms. Red as a cherry, Bran brushed himself off. He
resorted to cupping his hands while he bent down to give her a leg up—like he
should have done in the first place.

Once
in the saddle, Anne shot Calum a look that cut his heartstrings. She snapped
her head forward and whipped her cloak over her shoulder. Calum clamped his fist
around his reins and held his pony back. “Lead on, Bran.” He’d bring up the
rear for a time until his blood cooled.

With
the wind at his face, it wasn’t long before the lump in his stomach eased. He
hoped they would find this fledgling. It would provide amusement for Lady Anne,
and with so many birds nesting on the island, using raptors to hunt would offer
yet another source of food for his clan.

Bran
trotted his horse faster and pointed to a rocky crag. “Up there.”

The
rock was high and jagged. Calum could see the white excrement staining the
cliff, a telltale sign of a nesting bird. He rode in beside Bran and studied
the cliff. “If we can climb to that ledge, ye might be able to reach it if ye
stand on me shoulders.”

Anne
let out a soft whistle. “It looks rather dangerous to me.”

“Bran
and I can do it, but ye’ll need to stay with the ponies.”

“What
if you fall?”

Calum
couldn’t resist a wink. “Well now, I’ll no longer have cause to be dragging
meself through a bog of guilt every time me wayward eyes glance yer way.”

Bran
gave him a crooked smile. Anne looked at her hands. He didn’t think she’d come
up with a quick rebuke—but she did. “I’ll not have you risk your neck for me or
for a fledgling.”

“Very
well, I’ll risk my neck for
me
then.”
Calum hopped off his mount and took a step to help Anne, but she slid off her
mare on her own. He hobbled the ponies and started up toward crag. “Come, Bran.”

With
Calum’s first step, rocks crumbled beneath his foot. He stood back and examined
his intended path. “Mayhap if we circle around the side, we’ll find better
footing.”

They
hiked over to the spot Calum had seen. Unfortunately, the ancient rock crumbled
there too. He glanced down the hill toward Anne. She shaded her eyes with her
hand and watched them.

Calum
ground his back molars. He was going to climb this rock if it took the rest of
the afternoon.

Once
they got started, Calum found footholds with relative ease but they ran into an
impasse once they climbed to the ledge. The lip jutted out, feet from his
grasp. Calum drummed his fingers as he teetered on a boulder. He reached for
his dirk. “The rock’s soft enough, I can chip out a few notches for me feet.
I’ll climb the wall and hoist meself up on the ledge, then I’ll hang over and pull
ye up.”

“Are
ye sure, Calum?” Bran looked up at him from below, his face smudged with dirt.
“Ye could fall.”

Calum
palmed his dirk. “Yer like a fat, lazy MacKenzie with yer bellyaching. Och, ye
climb the rigging up to the crow’s nest. ’Tis no’ much different to this bit ‘o
rock.”

“Beg
yer pardon. The stone just doesna seem as forgiving as a netted rope.”

Calum
slammed the dirk into the stone. “Silence yer tongue. I’ll catch that fledgling
if I have to do it alone.”

“Given
all this effort, I hope the wee bird hasn’t flown the nest.”

Calum
shot the boy a glare. With the little naysayer below and the sharp-tongued
lassie watching, he must find a way up to that ledge, no question.

When
Calum jumped for the ledge and missed, Anne squeezed her arms tight against her
body. Far above his head, there was no chance they’d reach it. She wished she’d
never mentioned falconry. It took months to train a fledgling. What would
happen to the bird once she left? Would Calum assign someone to care for it? Perhaps—yes,
if she asked and
if
he was serious
about hunting with raptors.

Anne
looked at the sky. Teaming with birds, falconry would be another way the clan
could help stave off hunger.

Calum
had left his claymore sheathed to his saddle, but he pulled out his dirk and
started chipping at the rock. Was he actually going to attempt to mount the
ledge? Anne paced, wishing the men would just come down and forget this whole
thing.

An
eternity passed while Calum chipped and Bran clung to the rock below him. Finally,
Calum put away his dirk and motioned to the boy. Anne held her breath. Calum
looked like a spider climbing up a vertical wall. He launched himself onto the
ledge and held on with his arms, his legs dangling over the side. Her feet
tingled as if she were hanging in the sky along with Calum.

He
swung his leg over the edge and pulled himself up. Anne clapped her hand over
her mouth. The man must be part squirrel.

He
motioned to Bran. Oh no, he couldn’t expect the boy to do the same. But Calum
lay on his stomach and reached his arms over the side. Bran balanced on a rock
and jumped up, grasping Calum’s hands.

Bran
swung there for a moment, and Calum used brute strength to pull the lad over
the ledge. Anne held her hands against her chest and exhaled. They were safe.
She had no idea how they’d get down, but at the moment, both appeared
unscathed.

An
eagle screeched overhead. Calum knelt and Bran climbed on his shoulders. They
teetered a bit while Calum stood. The eagle swooped at Bran’s head. He swatted
it away and wobbled. Anne drew in a gasp, but Bran reached out his hands and
steadied himself against the rock wall. Calum eased closer to the cliff. Reaching
up, Bran seemed to catch something. He drew his hands back to his chest. Did he
have a fledgling? The eagle dove, but Bran slid his legs down and sat between
Calum’s shoulders. He waved at her. He
did
have one.

Anne
glanced at his pony. Drat. Bran had left the cage behind. She dashed over and
untied it from his saddle. She could climb up and meet them half way. She only
hoped Bran wouldn’t crush the bird before she reached them.

Anne
held up the cage so they could see it. Calum hollered something, but she
couldn’t discern it. No matter, he’d tell her just as soon as she could reach
them. She made her way around to the place where Calum had started to climb and
stepped up. Steadying herself on a rock, she pulled up her heavy skirts.
Women’s clothing could be ridiculously cumbersome. But, the men’s climb had looked
as if it had been easy until they reached the ledge.

Anne
held up the cage while she slid her doeskin boots over the big rocks.
Unaccustomed to climbing, her legs burned. The weight of her riding skirts made
the ascent all the more difficult. But she could see them now. Looking up the
hill, straining to see Calum, she took a step. The stone beneath her foot
crumbled. She flung out her foot to find traction. It dropped into a hole and twisted.
Anne fell to her knees. The rubble below her gave way. Out of control, she
tumbled down the crag with a landslide of rock and dirt in her wake.

***

When
the rubble gave way and sent Anne careening down the hill, Calum forgot the
bird and barreled after her. He feared the worst when she lay in a heap against
a huge boulder. His heart flew to his throat, but then she moved. Anne had her
back to him when she first tried to stand. She wobbled and dropped back down.
His heart beat faster. Just as he reached her, she looked up, blood streaming
down her face.

His
gut seized. “Lord in heaven, you’re bleeding.”

She
shaded her eyes then studied the blood on her hand. “’Tis my ankle that hurts.
It twisted a bit.”

“Just
yer ankle?” He tore a makeshift bandage from the hem of his shirt and held it
to her head. “Ye’ve had a nasty blow.” He bent down and inspected the gash,
just under her hairline.

“I
dropped the cage. I hope I didn’t break it.”

Calum
held the cloth to her head. “Ye cannot be serious. Ye’ve just tumbled down a
rocky crag and you’re worried about a wee cage?”

Bran
skidded to a halt behind him. “Lady Anne, are ye all right?” Bran took one look
at her bloody face. “Och, you’re bleedin’ like a stuck pig.”

She
pushed Calum’s hand away. “’Tis only a scratch. How about my fledgling? Did the
poor thing make it down the hill?”

Calum
reapplied the bandage, slipping his arm around her back to give her support. “Hold
still. That fly-bitten bird is the least of our concern.”

Anne
persisted. “Bran?”

The
lad stepped forward and revealed the eagle cradled in his hands. “’Tis still a
chick—no’ quite ready to fledge.”

Anne’s
face lit up with an enormous smile. “Oh, look at that sweet little thing. He’s
beautiful. Thank you, Bran. Thank you both.”

It
was as if the bird was all that mattered to her. She rested against Calum’s arm
and closed her eyes. “I’m afraid I need some help getting back to the ponies.
My ankle’s awfully sore.”

Calum
raised the hem of her dress and revealed the swelling. She wouldn’t be walking
anywhere. “Dunna ye worry, milady. We’ll have Friar Pat to tend ye.” In one
motion, he stood with Anne cradled tight in his arms. “Bran, put the bird in
the cage. We’ve got to take Lady Anne back to Brochel quickly.”

He
hated to see her bleeding. This was his fault. He should have brought Mara so Anne
wouldn’t have had to stand alone while he and Bran climbed the crag. How could
he have bounded up there just to impress her?

With
one arm, he cradled Anne against his chest, led the horse to a boulder and mounted.
Her tiny frame felt so small, so vulnerable. “Lead the mare,” he called over
his shoulder.

Anne’s
eyes opened and closed as he rode, as if she were having trouble staying awake.

He
gave her a squeeze with his fingers. “Are ye all right? Am I holding ye too
tight?”

She
turned her head toward him and closed her eyes again, mumbling something he
couldn’t understand.

He
rode hard and fast, supporting her so she would not jostle overmuch. “We’re
nearly there. ‘Twill be all right.”

His
gut twisted in knots, Calum cantered the pony through the bailey and headed
straight for the great hall. The arm supporting Anne burned, but he tightened
his grip and held her steady while he kicked free of his stirrups and slid off.
In the blink of an eye, he was surrounded by worried faces. He pushed his way
into the hall. “Someone call the friar. Mara! I need ye now!”

He
cradled Anne against his chest and bounded up the steps.

“Calum?”
Anne’s sweet voice asked.

“We’re
nearly there, love.” Did he just say “love”? He hoped she hadn’t noticed. His
emotions had run on the edge of raw for too long. He repeated “milady” in his
head until he reached the second landing.

Her
fingers brushed against his chest. “Why are you so beautiful?”

Now
he knew the knock to her head had made her delusional. Him? Beautiful? He’d
been called a lot of things, but never beautiful. But Calum’s heart fluttered when
he glanced at her eyes. They were half cast, her lips parted, as if she were
dreaming. Even with blood caked in her hair, she looked an angel.

He
pushed through the door and propped her against the pillows on the bed. Heaving
a sigh, he pressed his lips to her forehead. “How are ye feeling, milady?”

“Better.
My head’s throbbing a bit.”

“And
your ankle?”

“I
think it will be fine.”

She
tried to lean forward to look at it, but Calum placed his hand on her shoulder
and encouraged her to lay back. “Rest.”

Friar
Pat barreled through the door with Mara right behind. She carried a basket full
of bandages and bottles of herbs.

The
friar rushed to Anne’s bedside, wheezing from exertion. “What happened?”

“She
had a nasty fall.” Pat shot him an accusing look and Calum spread his palms. “I
told her to stay by the ponies.”

“I
wanted to help. ’Twas very clumsy of me,” Anne said, again trying to sit up.
“I’m so sorry to cause such a stir.”

The
friar patted her shoulder. “There, there, lass. Ye mustn’t exert yerself until
I’ve had a chance to look at ye.” He turned to Calum. “Ye best take yer leave
while we see to the baroness.”

Calum
moved to the end of the bed. He wasn’t about to depart the chamber until he
knew Anne would be well.

Friar
Pat and Mara paid him no notice. The holy man leaned over and inspected the
gash on her head. “And how are ye feeling now, milady?”

“My
head hurts, but otherwise, I think I’m well.”

He
stretched the skin of her temple with his fingers. “It doesna look too bad.”

“Her
ankle is swollen too,” Calum said, grasping the footboard and leaning forward.

The
friar’s brows formed a straight line across his forehead. His gaze darted
toward Calum with a silent admonishment. Calum pursed his lips and folded his
arms. If he didn’t keep his mouth shut, Pat would usher him out and lock the
door.

“We’ll
apply a honey poultice to keep the head wound from turning putrid, and then
I’ll have a look at yer ankle.” The friar patted her hand and smiled. “How does
that sound?”

“Just
give me a moment to rest, and I’ll be up and around.”

Calum
ran his fingers through his hair. “Ye were unconscious. Ye cannot just spring
up out of bed and traipse around the keep as if nothing happened.”

Anne
pushed herself forward, a flush rising to her face. “Pardon me, but I know my
own body.” She swung her legs over the side of the bed and swooned.

Mara
caught her before she fell forward and helped her back upon the bed.

The
friar pointed at the door. “Calum MacLeod, ye need to let us tend to the lady
in peace. Go stable yer pony and I’ll send word as soon as she’s ready to see
you.”

He
headed for the door, but Anne’s voice stopped him. “I want to see the eagle.”

He
glanced over his shoulder. She looked so frail resting atop the huge bed. His
heart twisted into a knot. This was his fault. If only he could hold her in his
arms while the friar tended to her. He could protect her, mayhap even take some
of the pain away. “I’ll bring him shortly, milady.”

***

Anne
choked back the pain as Friar Pat gently flexed her ankle and determined
nothing was broken. She examined it over her skirts. The swelling had already
gone down some and aside from a little bruising, it didn’t look too bad. After
applying a honey poultice to her head and rubbing a soothing salve into her
ankle, the friar offered Anne a warm cup of willow bark tea. “This will help the
pain. I’ll have Mara bring up a draught to help ye sleep, but ye must rest for
three days.”

She
cupped the tea in her hands. “Three days? That will drive me mad. I should be
fine by the morrow.”

“We
cannot take any chances with yer health, milady. Do as I say and ye’ll be
walking on your ankle pain free in no time.”

Anne
bit down upon her objection. There was no use arguing, but she would give it a
fair test once she was alone.
Stay in bed
for three days? He must be daft.

As
Mara and the friar took their leave, Calum tapped on the door and cracked it
open. “I have the fledgling, milady.”

Thank
heavens he’d returned so quickly. Calum’s brows pinched together and he held up
the eagle. Sitting up, the bedclothes neatly tucked around her waist, Anne beckoned
him forward. “Thank you, thank you. Bring him here, please.”

Calum
grinned like a boy on Christmas morn. The downy eagle chirped and stretched its
wings. Anne held out her arms. “Aw, what a sweet little biscuit.”

Calum
set the cage beside her and dragged a chair over to the bed. “I think he’s
hungry.”

“We
must feed him. Have the cook grind up some meat and mix it with a bit of
water.” Anne made kissing sounds. “Hello, little darling. We’re going to turn
you into a fierce hunter.” He chirped back at her as if he liked the idea. Anne
opened the cage and stroked his feathers.

“What
should we call him?” Calum asked.

“It
could be a girl.”

“Can
ye tell?”

Anne
lifted one of its little legs. “Not yet.” She smiled at Calum. “How about Swan,
since we met on the
Flying Swan
?”

“I
wouldn’t think ye’d want to be reminded of that.”

“Why
not?” She studied his face and smiled at his worried frown. The feared laird
was not so fierce now she’d come to know him. The thought that their time
together would not last tugged on her heart. She allowed her eyes drift down
with a sigh.