Claimed by a Laird (11 page)

Her cheek rubbed against his chest as she nodded. “I was
born in Scotland. My grandmother died and I came for the funeral, but then this
stupid necklace did some weird magical thing and took me to you in the dungeon.
So, I guess I’m stuck here.”

“Your necklace brought you here?”

Anna nodded again and lightly pressed her heated mouth
against his chest, drawing another frustrated moan from Galen’s lips. It was
all he could do to not grind his hips into hers.

“A Campbell man gave it to me, you know.” She lifted her
head and stared at him. “But I suppose you hate all Campbells so I shouldn’t
have told you that.”

“Who was he?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know. Just some guy who worked at
Maree Castle.”

He stiffened. The Campbells of Maree had once been friendly
to the MacAirths—in fact his father, Malcolm, and the current Campbell laird,
Alec, had been friends in their youth. All that changed the moment Alec
Campbell’s father sold out his desperate clan to the Gowrie, who offered
protection from the clans raiding the Campbells from the east.

Anna’s pendant rested upon his chest from where it hung
around her neck. It had been a central image in his visions of her in the
dungeon and had fairly glowed above him when she actually appeared in the
flesh. Something familiar about the amber stone had been tugging at him ever
since he peered at it while they had sat on the floor in the dungeon
antechamber.

Now that she had spoken the name “Campbell”, he knew why. He
had not thought about the Campbell legend in ages. Supposedly, the Campbells
were in possession of a honey-colored stone that had been enchanted by an old
Graham woman who was reputed to have been a witch. They had inherited it
through intermarriage with the Graham clan when Alec Campbell’s mother married
his father. The pendant was said to ensure the success and wealth of the one
who possessed it through drawing powerful alliances and good luck. In fact, once
the pendant was in Campbell possession, the Graham’s regional power had faded
and the Campbells, for a time, seemed untouchable.

Rumors that the sudden rise of the Campbells of Maree was
due to the black magic of the pendant had spread through the Highlands like
wildfire, attracting fortune hunters and jealousy from other clans. Over
twenty-five years ago, the pendant was rumored to have been stolen and the
Campbells faded from power. Since that time, the Campbells had been subjugated
by the Gowries and forced to do their bidding or risk losing everything.

Galen had never put much stock in such stories. But could
this one actually have some truth to it? Could it be that Anna had come into
possession of that fabled stone nearly eight-hundred years from now? And why
would the Campbells have given it to her?

She yawned and rubbed her cheek against his chest again. He
pushed the thought of her pendant aside, determined to find out the answer to
one last question before she fell asleep.

“Anna, have you been sent here to harm me or my clan?”

“I have sworn an oath to not harm anyone,” she muttered, her
tone astringent. “I heal people.”

Her voice trailed off and Galen smiled as he placed a quick
kiss on her head.

Something warm behind her coaxed Anna awake and she sleepily
snuggled toward it. She struggled to open her heavy eyelids. Why didn’t she
smell her uncle Ian’s freshly brewed coffee wafting in from the kitchen? She
pried her eyes open halfway and they fell upon the cold ashes of a fireplace.
Early morning light filtered around the window coverings and spilled onto the
wide planks of a roughly hewn, wooden floor. She yawned loudly. She must still
be dreaming.

But then memories of the fever filtered back into her
consciousness. The headache and the chills had both finally subsided and she
smiled gratefully, allowing her eyes to flutter closed. When she rolled onto
her back, however, her weakened, aching muscles nearly groaned.

Anna breathed deeply and opened her eyes again only to find
a very large, half-naked and dangerously handsome man staring down at her. A
startled gasp escaped her throat, but, a split second later, recognition dawned
on her. She gazed at him in amazement as a knot settled into her stomach.

None of what had happened was a dream, after all.

Unfortunately this also meant, much to her dismay, there
would be no coffee.

Galen was propped on one elbow, peering down at her. His
dark hair fell over half his face, giving him a rakish air. Wait, wasn’t he
supposed to have fought in some stupid battle? Relief swept through her—he was
safe.

Her heart skipped a beat as she got her first good, healthy
look at his bare chest in the light of day. She couldn’t help her roaming eyes
as they traced the contours of his pecs and abdomen. A smattering of dark hair
led downward and disappeared under the blanket draped around his waist.

Her cheeks heated at the memory of their sexual encounter in
the tent and she shifted her gaze to the sparse furnishings of the rustic room
in an effort to distract her wandering thoughts.

“
Madainn mhath
,” he said, flashing a flirtatious
grin.

Her stomach flipped in pleasure and she couldn’t help but
smile back. “
Madainn mhath.”
She stretched her arms up behind her head,
arching her back in the process, which pulled the blanket down her chest.

Galen groaned and yanked the blanket over her breasts. “You
must stop torturing me like that.”

She drew in a surprised breath. “Why am I naked?”

“You were hot, so you disrobed.”

She shoved his hand away from her chest in embarrassment,
but he captured her hand, threading his fingers through hers. He pushed her arm
back until it was pinned against the mattress next to her head. Throwing one of
his massive thighs across her hips, he rendered her nearly motionless.

“You speak my language,” he whispered.

Breathlessly, she glanced into his gray eyes. It had seemed
so natural when he said “good morning” in Gaelic, she replied the same in
return. Her blunder quickly fell from her thoughts, however, as his warm cock
insistently pressed her thigh. Her lips parted and her tongue dashed out to
moisten their sudden dryness.

He shook his head in seeming resignation as he lowered his
lips to within a mere breath of hers. “You will explain why you did not reveal
this to me.”

“I learned it from my grandparents,” she admitted, nervously
holding her breath.

“You mentioned that while you were fevered,” he snapped, his
eyes darkening as his gaze pierced her. “I want to know why you allowed me to
continue speaking English when you could already understand me perfectly.”

Galen’s tone held a hard, accusatory edge. The words
strained and every syllable enunciated with foreboding clarity. For the first
time since he held that blade to her neck, she caught a glimpse of the warlord
she knew him to be. Chills ran down her spine as the fear over her foreign and
seemingly merciless new surroundings forced its way to the forefront of her
thoughts. Dark images of recent events fell upon her all at once—the coldness
in Galen’s eyes as he threatened her life if she did not assist him when they
first met, the darkness of the river as she went under and the climb down the
impossibly tall Graham castle wall.

Her eyes burned with tears as she thought of all the
friends, family and comfort, not to mention the nice and safe, but utterly
boring existence she had left behind. She pushed him away and sat up, covering
her face with her hands as tears silently flowed down her cheeks.

“Do not do this to me woman,” Galen hoarsely commanded. “You
will cease your weeping immediately.”

Anger and shock at his callous reaction to her tears welled
within her. Was this even the same man who had taken such pains to ensure her
safety and comfort? The very same man she couldn’t seem to wait to spread her
legs for? She was a massive idiot to think he was any better than the other men
she’d been with.

“All I wanted was to come home to Scotland and say goodbye
to my grandmother,” she muttered from behind her hands. “And all I got was some
asshole who kidnaps me at knife-point and orders me around.”

Galen stilled against her and remained motionless for
several moments. “Did you just call me an ‘asshole’?”

Anna’s tears slowed as the curious wonder in his voice
pierced her anger. “Yes,” she squeaked.

She parted her fingers and warily peered out at him. The
kindness was, thankfully, back in his eyes.

“Are you done crying?” he asked in a wary tone.

She nodded pitifully and he pulled her hands from her face.
He cupped her cheeks in his palms and wiped her tears away with his thumbs.

“Why did you not understand me when I initially spoke to you
in Gaelic?” His voice was gentler this time, but the grim determination
revealed by his thinned lips indicated he was not going to leave her alone
without getting a satisfactory answer.

Anna shrugged. The man was a complete contradiction, moving
from anger over her tears to tenderness as he wiped them away. “It’s been over
ten years since I last spoke it,” she answered. “I didn’t think I still really
knew how to.”

Galen’s shoulders relaxed and he dropped his hands from her
face. “And when did you realize you could understand us?”

“Soon after you began speaking to your men at the
encampment.”

“And this pendant you wear. A Campbell man gave it to you,
correct?”

Anna froze. She couldn’t quite recall what his deal was with
the Campbells, but they had something to do with his enemy clan, the Gowries.

His eyes were sharp and evaluating as they held her
paralyzed. “Why do you fear that name so?”

“Um.” She searched anxiously for some plausible explanation
he would not detect as a deflection of the truth. “It’s…it’s just that you seem
to hate them so much.”

Galen paused for several, long moments before nodding,
apparently satisfied with her answer. “Was there a reason why the man gave the
pendant to you?”

“He said he had instructions to deliver it to me,” she
whispered, turning her attention to her hands in her lap. “I had never seen him
or the pendant before.” She inhaled slowly, thankful she had enough wits about
her to leave out the fact she was a Campbell too.

“Who gave him these instructions?”

She blinked anxiously. Could she trust him to not lash out
at her if she uttered the name of the man who had willed it to her? The sheer
determination on Galen’s face, however, convinced her she had little choice in
the matter.

“Someone named Alec Campbell,” she whispered, nervously
fidgeting with the blanket. Her father had shared the same name.

He gripped her hands. “The Campbell of Maree laird?”

She froze, staring at his hands fearfully. Dear Lord, what
was she doing here? She didn’t know this man. Was he violent? Would he hurt her
if she didn’t give him the answers he wanted?

James’ face flashed before her eyes, causing her stomach to
churn. How could she be so stupid as to allow herself to get involved with
Galen? He talked of battles, threatened to kill people, and claimed more
enemies than she could keep track of. Was he nothing more than a less
manipulative form of James?

One of his hands flew to her face and she gasped,
involuntarily wincing. When all he did was grab her chin and turn it toward
him, she cracked one eyelid to peer at him.

“Look at me, woman,” he commanded.

Anna took a deep breath and forced both eyes open to meet
Galen’s wounded expression. She immediately chided herself for assuming the
worst about him. He had done nothing but protect her. He did not deserve this
kind of distrust.

“Has someone hit you?” His eyes narrowed. The man was far
too sharp and perceptive for her own good.

“I don’t wish to talk about it.” She shook her head and
shoved James’ face out of her head. “Besides, it was a long time ago.”

“But you thought I was going to harm you,” he flatly stated.
“You also stepped away from me last night when Geoffrey admitted his mistake
and I became angry. Do you believe I will hurt you?”

Anna studied his face for a moment and a strange warmth
wrapped around her heart. She wasn’t certain how, but she instinctively knew
she had nothing to fear from this man. At last, she shook her head.

Galen grunted in satisfaction. “Now, about the Campbell
laird. Were you given any instructions with this pendant?”

“No.” She furrowed her brow. “None of it made any sense to
me. All I was told was that this guy died in 1233. I know it sounds ridiculous,
but I don’t know anything else about this, Galen. I wish I could tell you more.”

She sighed, certain he wasn’t going to believe her, until
Galen caressed the side of her face with his hand. She dared a glance at him
and his lips curved into a tender smile.

Anna’s heart fluttered at the fire smoldering in his eyes
and the tension left her shoulders. She smiled shyly as he withdrew his hand
from her cheek. His attention dropped to the tops of her breasts peeking above
the blanket she held tight to her chest. Her nipples immediately hardened.

An inexplicable emotion darted across his face and he turned
from her. “You will speak Gaelic from now on,” he announced in a clipped tone
as he threw the blankets off himself.

Anna’s gaze inadvertently fell to his fully erect cock. She
inhaled sharply and averted her eyes. Its sheer size caused warmth to spread
throughout her abdomen. Even in her weakened and upset state, she clenched her
thighs together at the memory of Galen thrusting it inside of her.

“You are blushing like a virgin,” Galen quipped as he
crossed the room.

“I-I-I can’t speak it, Galen,” she insisted, hoping he would
forget about her reaction to his sudden nakedness.

Several minutes passed while Galen pulled on his clothing.
She dropped her eyes to her hands as they fidgeted with the blanket in her lap.

The mattress sank beside her and his hand drifted up her
bare back to her neck, sending a pleasant shiver through her spine. He gently
massaged her with his thumb and fingers. “I heard you speak it. Adam and
Geoffrey did too. Perhaps the fever prevented you from feeling nervous about
your ability to converse in our tongue.”

Anna closed her eyes, simultaneously wishing for him to
leave as well as drop those firm, commanding lips to her shoulder.

“We will assist you, of course,” he said. “But I will not
have your tongue spoken on my land unless absolutely necessary. Do you
understand?”

The vehemence with which he spoke caught her by surprise.
“The English are really hated here, huh?”

“Most have good reason.”

She turned toward him to ask him to explain. Her lips bumped
the corner of his mouth and she pulled back in astonishment at the sudden rush
of heat leaping off him.

Galen wrapped his roughened hand around her neck and pulled
her toward him. He captured her top lip, softly sucking before releasing it and
moving to her bottom lip to do the same.

She sighed, leaning into the kiss as his other arm encircled
her waist and hauled her against his hard chest. She slipped her arms around
his neck and parted her lips. Her heart pounded in her chest as his tongue slid
into her mouth, sending shivers of desire through her abdomen. Before she
realized what was happening, her own tongue darted into his mouth, touching and
teasing his tongue with increasing abandon.

He growled lowly, threading his fingers through her hair and
twisting it around his fist. Gently pulling her head back, he dragged his mouth
from hers to her exposed neck. Her eyelids shivered closed as Galen kissed and
sucked a path down toward her shoulder. A soft, ragged moan fell from her lips
as wetness gathered between her thighs.

He tensed against her. Raising his mouth from her neck, he
peered into her face as though trying to solve a puzzle.

He released her and pulled her arms from his neck. “You need
your rest,” he stated as he rose and turned his back on her.

She reached out and grazed his forearm with her fingertips,
concerned about the abrupt change in his attitude. “I am fine.”

His muscles twitched beneath her fingers as he turned toward
her. He tucked her hair behind her ear. “I should have believed you when you
told me you were ill.”

Her eyes widened in surprise. Did the man actually feel
guilty for seducing her? She leaned into his palm, her head swimming and lips
still burning with fire. She should let him go. She shouldn’t encourage him to
continue touching her, but she couldn’t seem to help herself.

His strength seeped into her, renewing her energy. “It’s not
like I stopped you,” she whispered in reassurance as she turned her head and
pressed her lips to his palm.

He dragged his thumb across her bottom lip. “I gave you little
choice.”

“Trust me, Galen,” she replied with a small smile as she
stared up at him. “I do not do anything I don’t want to do.”

He shook his head and dropped his hand from her cheek. “It
is my duty to protect you and I failed.”