Claimed by a Laird (10 page)

“Take Michael and Lachlan with you,” Galen instructed. “I
want Anna protected. And resting comfortably in my bed when the rest of us
arrive back at the keep.”

Geoffrey’s jaw flexed as resignation fell across his face.
He nodded curtly, straightening his back. “Godspeed, brother.”

Galen smacked him on the back. “And you.”

He rode like hell to get to her.

The light of the full moon fell across the fallow fields
near the MacAirth clan’s southern border. His muscles ached as he goaded his
stallion into a full gallop. Soon he would be able to make sure Anna was all
right. A couple of clans to the north had good healers. If her condition had
not improved, he would send Geoffrey to fetch them.

He pulled ahead of his men, crossing meadows, streams and
valleys alone. Never before had the journey back home from a battle dragged out
for so long. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, the thatched cottages
of his clan came within sight and his keep rose in the distance.

Relief settled upon him as he rode through the gateway into
the courtyard. Adam stood in the middle, his legs braced and arms crossed. Word
of their imminent arrival had obviously preceded him.

Galen reined his horse next to his friend and a young stable
boy dashed toward him from the shadows.

“How are the Grahams doing?” Adam called.

Galen grinned. “Licking their wounds, of course. The laird
got away, unfortunately.” He tossed the reins to the stable boy. “How is she?”

Adam flashed him a knowing smile. “She is doing well.
Catriona is sitting with her and says Anna’s fever has definitely lessened
since we arrived.”

Galen nodded and dismounted, giving his tired stallion an
affectionate pat before allowing the stable boy to lead him away. He walked
past Adam and headed toward the keep.

Adam grabbed his arm. “Galen, she speaks our tongue. Quite
well, in fact.”

Galen stopped, his feet seemingly rooted into the ground.
“What did she say?” he asked, clenching his jaw.

Adam shrugged, his brow gravely furrowed. “We could make
sense of little of it other than when she asked for you. There was something
about dreams, the Graham castle and a necklace, not to mention some utter
nonsense about flying in some sort of contraption and a dead grandmother. I did
not understand most of it.”

Galen inhaled deeply and shook his head. Not having answers
to satisfy his questions was driving him completely daft. “I do not know what
to make of it,” he finally admitted, the weight of his burden easing as he
confessed his doubt out loud. “I spoke Gaelic when I first saw her, but she did
not understand me. When the fever took over this morning, she could suddenly
speak in our tongue.”

Adam eyed him for several silent moments. “Forgive me for
saying this since I know you do not wish to hear it, but Geoffrey might have a
point about her. Do you really know anything about Anna for certain? To be
honest, her story does not sit right with me.”

Galen’s anger swiftly arose. “You are right. I do not wish
to hear it.” He attempted to brush past his friend once again.

Adam stepped in front of him, clearly undaunted by Galen’s
chilly demeanor. “You need to consider she might not be who you think she is.”

Galen glared at him, one fist clenched at his side. He had
not hit his friend since they were teenagers and had gotten into a brawl over
some barroom wench on their first trip to Edinburgh to see the king, but his
fist was itching to throw a punch Adam’s way now.

“Should she prove to be untrustworthy,” Galen replied
through gritted teeth, “I will take the fall, not the clan.” He shoved Adam
aside and strode toward the steps leading into the keep.

“I am not worried about the clan. I am worried about you,”
Adam called from behind.

Galen stopped in his tracks, pausing for the briefest of moments
before turning back to his friend. Crossing his arms, he waited for Adam to
explain.

Adam walked toward him. “Have you forgotten what your
mother’s death did to your father?” he stated in a low, steady voice.

Galen snorted, simultaneously surprised and disgusted by the
turn of the conversation. “I am not my father.”

“Your father was not what he eventually became either,” Adam
insisted. “Love does strange things to a man.”

Galen threw back his head and laughed in relief. His friend
certainly had a strange way of jumping to conclusions. “Is that what this is
about? You think I am in love with Anna?”

Adam tilted his head questioningly.

“I barely know the lass. It is not like it was with you and
Janet,” Galen remarked with certainty, though he softened his tone at the name
of Adam’s long-dead wife.

A brief, melancholy flash passed through Adam’s eyes as he
determinedly stared at Galen. “You forget, friend, I have known you your whole
life. I saw how you looked at Anna. It is different than with other women.”

Galen shook his head, more than ready to be done with this
absurd conversation. “I am grateful to Anna. I owe her a comfortable existence
for the rest of her days. That is all.” Spinning on his heel, he strode back
toward the keep. “She is just a woman. Nothing more,” Galen muttered loudly,
more to himself than to Adam.

“Better not let Anna hear you say that,” Adam called after
him. “Women do not take kindly to that notion.”

Galen’s shoulders stiffened, but he brushed off Adam’s
warning. As he reached the top of the steps, he came to a standstill once
again, his hand resting on the handle of the door to the keep. “Where is
Geoffrey? I thought to send him to the MacBains to request the services of
their healer.”

“He left soon after we arrived to fetch Father Andrew,” Adam
answered.

“Why would he do such a daft thing?”

Adam grinned lazily. “He said a laird should have the
Church’s blessing sooner rather than later.”

Galen rolled his eyes. “He knows as well as I all that truly
matters is the oath itself. The priest’s blessing is not needed immediately.”

“He is concerned no one has heard Anna pledge herself to
you. Not to mention, I think he believes Father will be able to determine if we
can trust her,” Adam responded. “Do you wish me to go the MacBains in his
stead?”

Galen sighed and threw the door open before stepping over
the threshold. “If Anna is not better by morning, then I will send you to
them.”

The warmth of his great hall beckoned him forward as the
heavy door fell closed behind him. Due to the late hour, all was quiet as he
strode through the room and up the stairs. He pushed aside all thoughts of his
daft brother and equally daft friend as he shoved open the door to his chamber.

The young housekeeper’s assistant, Catriona, jumped from
where she sat next to his bed with a startled gasp. “Laird Galen, I did not
know you were home.”

He nodded and swept past her on his way to the still form
lying beneath his bedcovers. The flames from the nearby fire threw shadows
across Anna’s sleeping face. A strange sense of relief surrounded his heart and
he fought back the smile threatening to split his face.

Galen’s breath caught in his throat as his eyes roved over
her delicate features. How on earth had the woman become even more beautiful
since she left his side this morning?

“She is doing quite well,” Catriona stated behind him as he
ran the back of his hand over Anna’s flushed cheeks and forehead. “The fever
has lessened.”

He frowned at the dark shadows under Anna’s eyes. Her face
was peaceful, though, and her breathing even, for which he was grateful. It was
not until that moment he realized he had been holding his breath since entering
the chamber.

“Do you wish for me to make up the bed for you in the next
chamber, Laird?”

Galen shook his head as he turned to the young woman, oddly
wringing her hands in uncertainty just like Anna had a habit of doing. He was
annoyed Catriona still had not gotten over her unfounded fear of him since
coming into his household this past spring. “You may go now, Catriona. I will stay
with Lady Anna for the night.”

Catriona nodded. “As you wish. Shall I check on your lady in
the morning?”

“Yes, thank you.” Once the door latched, Galen sat on the
bed next to Anna and caressed the side of her face.

Throughout the battle with the Grahams her face had haunted
him, driving him to punish the Grahams for their treachery as quickly as
possible so he could assure himself she was safe. He shook his head at his
sudden obsession over this mere woman. Up until this point, he had done just
fine with the occasional wench to bed. Now he could not stop thinking about
Anna’s safety and how easily she may or may not settle into the role of a
laird’s wife…if he could get her to accept it.

“What the hell have you done to me, lass?” he murmured.

He stared at her lovely face for another moment, half
expecting her to answer. Her rosy, plump lips drew his attention and he longed
to taste them, to recapture them for his own and to force those sweet little
whimpers of pleasure from her lips.

He clenched his jaw in guilt as he worriedly eyed the pallor
of her skin. He should have listened when she claimed she was becoming ill. At
that moment in the tent, however, relieving the sexual tension that had built
between them was all that mattered. She had no idea the effect her little
touches on his hand and thigh or his healthy view of her cleavage in the Graham
dungeon antechamber had on him. And when she confidently stood before him and
pulled her shirt down even farther, revealing the soft, creamy tops of those
luscious breasts in order to better distract the unsuspecting Graham castle
guard, he knew he would take her to his bed the first chance he got.

Galen’s eyes flitted of their own accord down to her chest.
He nearly salivated as they traced her nipples peaking against the strange,
formfitting cloth of her shirt. His shaft stiffened at the thought of the
honeyed taste of those peaks and how quickly she would become wet for him.

“Damn it,” he muttered, turning away to remove his boots.

He had to maintain his focus. He stood and discarded his
clothing, which he tossed into the corner of the room before walking around to
the other side of the bed. He pulled back the covers and slipped in beside Anna
whose back now faced him.

Folding his hands on his stomach, Galen closed his eyes,
preparing to do battle with his most formidable enemy—himself. He was a warrior
to be reckoned with, after all. Surely he was capable of resisting this mere
woman’s charms and could force her into giving him the whole truth once she had
finally awakened.

He deliberately slowed his breathing in an effort to calm
his racing thoughts, but sleep evaded him. Anna’s rhythmic breaths cut through
the silence of his chamber. At one point, she stirred next to him, pulling him
away from the dream-like, shifting images of the battle and the moment she had
disappeared into the river.

Her portion of the blankets flew across his thighs and she
whimpered, kicking his leg. “It’s too damn hot in here,” she muttered in
Gaelic.

“I know, lass,” he replied with a yawn. “Settle down. You
need your rest.”

He rolled to his side and reached for her forehead. He
grumbled at the heat still emanating from her skin.

“Galen?”

“Yes, Annie. It is I.”

“You’re alive?”

He smiled at the wonder in her voice. “Go back to sleep now.
I will stay with you.”

Anna scooted toward him. “I do hope you didn’t kill anyone,”
she murmured, pushing him onto his back and climbing on top of him.

Bare breasts with erect nipples brushed his chest before she
settled against him. He inhaled sharply and grabbed her hips. Not just her
shirt, but all of her clothing was missing.

“What the devil?” he shouted, his cock hardening beneath her
hips.

“Why are you always yelling?” She rubbed her cheek across
his chest.

Damn it, the woman’s brain was still muddled by fever.
“Where are your clothes?”

She shrugged and lifted her head as she slipped her smooth
fingers though his chest hair. “I thought you liked me naked.”

Her silken hair fell against his cheek as she lowered her
lips, softly pressing them against his jaw. His face twitched.

He sighed in frustration and prepared to roll her off him.
But then she dragged her lips down his neck and his skin prickled under her
breath. The soft flesh of her backside yielded under his palms. Both grateful
and annoyed by the layers of blanket between her hips and his, he gritted his
teeth.

“Annie, you do not want to do this. Not now.”

“I like how you taste.” She nibbled her way across his jaw
and up to his mouth. Slowly, she traced his bottom lip with her tongue and took
it between hers.

He groaned as blood surged painfully through his cock. The
woman was going to be the death of him. He dragged his hands up her back and
settled them on the sides of her face to draw her away. “You are ill.”

“Don’t you want me?”

Her pained, nearly whispered question tugged at both his
heart and his willpower. If he were a lesser man, he would have rolled her onto
her back by now and buried himself between her thighs. He brought her face
toward him, gently pressing his lips against hers in a hot, languid kiss.

He somehow found the strength to pull away. “I want you more
than any other woman, but we have to wait until you are well.”

“Okay, but it had better not take another two years,” she
snapped. “I shouldn’t have to wait so long between men.”

He could not help but chuckle at her unexpected confession.
“Two years, eh?”

“It’s too long.”

“Yes, lass, it certainly is.”

Strange, but her admission that she had not recently been
with another man pleased him. He cared not that she was not a virgin, but he did
like that she did not throw herself at just any man.

Anna laid her head on his chest and sighed.

“Tell me, lass,” Galen rubbed her heated back, “where did
you learn to speak Gaelic?”

“My grandparents.”

His hands stilled against her. He dared not make any sudden
movements for fear of startling her into silence. “But you told me English was
spoken in your homeland.”