Captured by the Pirate Laird (10 page)

Mara
stood. “I’ve got to get on with me chores.”

Anne
held up her hand. “Let this be our secret.” The last thing she needed was for
the entire clan to be gossiping about her making a keepsake for the laird.

***

Calum
had become accustomed to having Anne beside him during the evening meal, but
tonight he clamped his fingers around his tankard and ground his teeth. Mara
had invited the lady to sit in John’s stead, and the two women leaned their
heads together, chatting like a pair of hens. Mara’s glance shot toward him
time and time again. They had to be talking about him, damn them. Why the pair
just couldn’t sit up on the dais and talk about him to his face was
confounding.

He
kneaded the knot in the back of his neck. John would arrive soon then things
would return to normal. At least the work had been completed on his
chamber—temporary chamber. He wondered if Lady Anne had any idea he’d spent the
past week sleeping on the floor outside her door. He hoped not.

Working
with Mara and the children, the lady had already endeared herself to the clan in
so many ways. Losing her would leave a void. Of that he had no doubt. Was his
unmitigated attraction because he could never have her? Calum shook his head at
his stubbornness—always wanting that which could never be.

Friar
Pat blocked his view of the lady with his brown robes. He held up a ewer.
“Would ye care for a tot of me potent mead, m’laird?”

A
slow smile spread across Calum’s lips. He would indeed enjoy a tot of the friar’s
fine drink and he held up his tankard. “Ye are a saint among men.”

“Ye
over estimate me talents.” Pat glanced over his shoulder. “It seems ye are a
tad fixated on the baroness.”

Calum
ran his fingers through his hair. “She’s distracting—and she’s in me care. I’ll
not have one of our young bucks touching her.”

“’Tis
a slippery spot you’re in.” The friar saluted with the ewer. “But, God willing,
’twill all work out in the end.”

Calum
toasted him with his tankard and took a long swig. The honeyed liquid slid like
cream down his throat. His eyes returned to Anne but she was no longer there. He
took quick inventory of the hall. Many had headed for their beds, but Mara
remained talking and laughing as always. He caught her eye and beckoned her to
the dais with a wave of his hand.

Mara
skipped across the floor. “Yes, m’laird?”

“Has
Lady Anne retired?”

“Aye.”

“Who
saw that she made it safely to her chamber?”

“Oh
come now, Calum. Ye ken she’s safe with Norman on
The Golden Sun
. My oath. She comes and goes all day, but after
supper yer fretting over the lass like a mother hen, ye are.”

“Och,
woman, you’re too trusting.” Calum stood. “The lady is under
my
care. Not yers.”

Calum
pushed past her with a curl to his upper lip. Mara trusted everyone to a
fault—except Norman. Nonetheless, she shouldn’t have allowed Anne to leave the
hall without an escort. Not at night. Sure, Raasay was an island, but one
easily accessed by a small boat. And now the galleon had been plundered, his
clan had more enemies than ever before.

He
bounded up the stone stairs of the tower. In moments, he rounded the corner and
stood outside her door. Should he knock? There was rustling within. “Lady
Anne?”

“A
moment.” Her voice sounded clipped. It seemed an eternity before she opened the
door, her dressing gown clutched closed under her chin. “Is everything well, my
lord?”

She
obviously was going to continue to address him as lord and Calum had stopped
correcting her. “I wanted to ensure ye made it to yer chamber without
incident.”

“As
you can see, I am here.”

Calum
looked beyond her to the bed. If only he could lead her there now.

Lady
Anne eyed him with a demure smile. Did she have to bless him with those
irresistible dimples? Again? She lowered her lashes and moved to close the door.
“If there is nothing else…”

Holding
out his hand, he pushed the door open and walked inside. “Work on the other
chamber is complete.” He didn’t want to bid her goodnight. Not yet.

Lady
Anne hesitated a moment, but she closed the door behind her, leaving them alone
in her chamber. “My lord, ’tis late.”

He
strode to the adjoining door and opened it. “Ye see.” He gestured to the newly
appointed room. “We’ll have to keep this locked to ensure I don’t sleepwalk and
end up in bed beside ye.”

Calum
nearly stepped on her when he turned.

Anne’s
eyes opened wide, round as shillings. “You sleepwalk?”

“Nay,
but it could happen.” Improvising, he snuck his hand around her waist and
pulled her into his body. Warm, unbound woman molded against him. Though her
arms remained at her sides, she had the most delectable way of arousing him.

Calum
buried his face in her hair and inhaled. “Ye smell of honeysuckle and roses.
’Tis more than a lonely laird can bear.” He reached for her hands and placed
them on his waist. “Kiss me, Lady Anne.”

Her
arms slid to his back. She kneaded his aching muscles as their lips met with a searching
passion. This was a far cry from the timid maid he’d first kissed only days
ago. A raging fire ignited across every inch of his skin. Calum ran his hand up
to the neckline of her dressing gown as Anne arched against him. Their lips
intertwined, he slid his fingers under the soft red wool and found a velvety
smooth breast that yielded to his plying fingers. Her nipple erect, Calum fingered
it, longing to suckle her. His knee pressed against the bed. It would be so
easy to lay her down and slip between her legs.

Anne
threw her head back and emitted a throaty moan of pleasure. So seductive the
sound, in a blink of an eye, he was fully erect. But then she opened her sultry
eyes and grasped his wrist. “We mustn’t.”

Not
trusting his voice, Calum tried to breathe normally and then nodded. He glanced
at the bed. God, he’d never in his life desired a woman this much.

“We
should not be alone together. I cannot trust my flesh.”

Calum
closed his eyes and wrapped her in his embrace. “It appears ye were right. We
need a chaperone at all times.”

She
raised her face to him, those tempting eyes posing an unintended challenge—one
he dared not take now he’d returned to some level of sanity. He savored those
rose petal lips one last time and slipped into his new chamber, locking the
door behind him. Calum leaned against the warm wood and inhaled.

Where
was John? Calum picked up the poker and stirred the fire.

He
then slid his claymore from his belt and released the heavy silver buckle. In
an instant he’d undressed and filled the bowl with water. Standing in front of
the warm hearth, he lathered a bit of rosemary soap in his hands and made quick
work of washing the stench of the day’s work from his body.

Gooseflesh
rose across his skin as the cold cloth brushed over his flesh. His cock bounced
straight up when he swiped the cloth across its head. As of late, he was hard
more often than not. Calum closed his eyes. She slept so close, he could
practically smell her through the walls.

Forcing
his mind to think about anything but Anne, he ran the drying cloth across his
body, tossed it aside and slipped under the bedclothes. He loved the feel of
crisp linen sheets against his bare skin. It reminded him of his boyhood, of climbing
into bed without a care.

Something
thudded against the wall. Calum sat up. Holding his breath, he listened
intently. His—Anne’s bed creaked. Realizing the head of his bed butted up
against hers with only a wall between them, Calum groaned. He dropped onto the
pillows and stared at the ceiling.

What is she wearing?
Did she strip naked as did he? Calum slapped his hand to his forehead. Of
course a lady would never sleep raw, especially the daughter of an earl. But imagining
her that way sent shivers across his skin. He could never resist the urge to picture
her bare breasts as they teased him from under the square necklines of her
dresses. The touch he’d stolen this evening proved her breasts to be generous
and rounded. Calum imagined their taut rosy tips. A familiar thickening lifted
the bedclothes, torturing him.

Anne’s
bed creaked again. Had she rolled over? Was she on her side—on her back? Was
she thinking of him? Did those thoughts send a yearning deep inside, so hot
that it rained fire on her soul?

Calum
arched his back and willed his thoughts to focus on anything but Lady Anne, but
with every creak of her bed, his hunger returned. He vowed to exhaust himself
on the morrow with more work. He’d spar with his men, not with his own lust.

From
his study, Thomas Wharton watched the messenger’s horse trot up the path to the
manor. The clench in his gut told him the man either bore news from Master
Denton, still in London, or news as to the whereabouts of his bride.

Samuel
entered and cleared his throat. “A missive has arrived, my lord.”

“Good
God, man. Don’t hover. Show the messenger in.”

“Right
away, my lord.” Samuel beckoned with a wave of his hand. “Mr. Elliot from
Edinburgh.”

Wearing
a pair of leather breeches with a matching doublet and feathered cap, Elliot
looked to be an aspiring gentleman. “I was told to deliver this with haste, my
lord.”

Wharton
snatched the parchment and examined the note. By the crumpled edges, the missive
was well traveled. He held the seal up to the light.
Damn, a blank
. “How did you come by this?”

“A
rather gruff Highlander paid me quite handsomely. Said I was to return with
your reply.”

“You
hail from Edinburgh?”

“Aye.”

Wharton
ran his thumb under the seal and stared at the black scrawl—the terms of his
wife’s ransom. “Blast the bastards to hell.” He slammed the missive on his desk
and eyed the messenger.

Mr.
Elliot removed his cap and held it in both hands. “The…the Highlander told me
to pay an Englishman to deliver it to you, but I thought it would be expedient
to deliver it myself.”

Wharton
smirked.
A Lowlander, eh?
He’d probably
pocketed the money intended for the English runner. But that didn’t matter. Aside
from a few shillings, he’d have no loyalty to the man who paid him. Wharton
moved to his sideboard. “Would you care for a tot of brandy?”

“That
would be too kind, milord.”

“Not
at all.” Wharton gestured to the red velvet divan. “Please, have a seat. I’ve a
business proposition for you.”

***

Isabelle,
the little girl who Anne had picked up and carried into the keep the first day
she arrived, hung on Anne’s every word. She and a handful of other children sat
wide eyed at a table in the hall while Anne pointed to a parchment upon which
she’d drawn the alphabet.

“Repeat
after me. A is for apple.”

The
children repeated with a lilting Scottish burr.

“B
is for ball, and what does C stand for?”

“Calum!”

Bran
pushed through the oak doors and ran up to Anne, his brown curls jostling.
“Lady Anne, are ye ready to go falconing with the laird?”

“Bran?
You should be attending these lessons. It is important for a young squire to
read.”

Bran
glanced at the parchment. “Och aye, but no’ today. Calum’s waiting for ye in
the stable.”

“He’s
finally ready to go find a fledgling?”

“Aye,
and I’ll be yer chaperone.” His hands flew to his hips as freckles bunched around
his nose with his grin.

Anne
smiled at the boy’s exuberance. She wondered if he understood the importance of
his role. “Will you protect me from evil lurkers?”

“Evil
what?” Bran furrowed his brow. “I don’t think we’ve any evil lookers on
Raasay.”

She
opened her mouth to correct him, but changed her mind. “Very well, I’ll fetch
my cloak and be down momentarily.”

Anne
dismissed the children and skipped up the stairs, thrilled to be getting out of
the keep and into some fresh air. She bundled her hair into a forest green snood
which matched her dress, and donned a pair of brown leather gloves. At last she
would be able to see more of this isle in the wild north.

Calum
met them outside the stables with a devilish grin lighting up his face. “Would
ye like to see me island, milady?”

She
clapped her hands together. “I could think of nothing more invigorating on this
lovely day.”

He
even had a sorrel mare fitted with a sidesaddle, bridled and waiting. He
stepped up and placed a hand upon her waist. With a gasp, Anne scooted back.
The touch of his fingers sent sparks across her skin—right there in broad
daylight.

“Apologies,
milady. May I assist ye to mount yer pony?”

She
looked for Bran. The lad was already in his saddle and had started up the
trail. Fine chaperone he would be. “Yes, of course, but I’d prefer to use the
mounting block.”

Calum
held out his hand and she climbed the two steps. Once they were both mounted,
Calum led her to the trail head at a slow walk.

“What
about Bran? He’s lengths ahead.”

“The
lad kens where we’re going. If he doesna hold up, we’ll see him at the loch.”

She
should insist they catch up with him, but she wanted to enjoy the day. Following
Calum at a leisurely gait, Anne walked her pony up the rocky path that led
north and west of Brochel Castle. “My, ’tis rugged country.”

“Aye.
The growing season is short and we’ve no’ much in the way of good soil for
crops, but we’re making a go of it.”

Anne
thought of the
Flying Swan
. “Do you
think there will come a time when you no longer need to plunder English ships?”

“English?
Aye.” Calum arched an eyebrow. “I hope we dunna have to do that again,
honestly.”

“’Tis
good to hear.”

“I’ll
no’ give a promise for the Spaniards, though. Word has it Captain Hawkins is
the only one plundering the silver Spain’s taking from the Americas. I wouldn’t
mind a piece of that.”

Anne
smirked. “Is that the way of the world? The natives mine the silver, Spain
steals it, and England takes it from them?”

“Perhaps
so. Even the crusades were more about conquering people and pillaging their lands
than it was about freeing the Holy Land.”

“Hmm.
My father had a silver urn handed down through generations. He said our
ancestors brought it back from Tunis during the crusades.”

“It
must be something—growing up under the roof of an earl.”

“I
suppose. We never wanted for anything.” Anne ran the reins through her gloved
hands. “But Father’s death was a tragedy all the same.”

“I’m
sure it was.”

“A
year after I was born, King Henry appointed father principal secretary of state.
After, Mother said she would conceive every time he came home from court. He
was rarely around, but Mother always managed to be with child.”

“So
you have a large family?”

“Three
brothers and four sisters, though two of the boys died in infancy. I’m the
second sister. Elizabeth, the eldest, wed Thomas Radcliffe.” Anne looked at
Calum to see if he recognized the name. “He’s the third Earl of Sussex.”

Calum
let out a high-pitched whistle. “An earl for yer sister and a baron for you,
aye?”

The
same old musket hole stretched Anne’s heart again. “Elizabeth actually had the
pleasure of being courted.”

“And
why no’ you? Were ye no’ presented at court?”

“Alas,
no. Father passed before I came of age and then I was needed in Southampton.
Aside from Elizabeth, I am the eldest living child. My brother, Henry, was sent
to my uncle for his fostering and I remained behind to ensure the estate prospered.”

“Was
that the same uncle who arranged yer marriage?”

A
lump stuck in her throat. “Yes.” Anne tapped her heel against the pony, urging
the mare into a canter. With the wind in her face she let herself laugh. For
the first time in months, she felt free. She didn’t want to think about the
future and she didn’t want to think about pirates or barons or a sister who had
married a fetching young earl.

Calum
cantered up beside her. “Ye handle your mount well.”

“Did
you think I would not?”

“Nay.
Being born on the mainland, ye would have had a need to ride.” He pointed. “Bran’s
up ahead. There’s a clearing that looks over an inland loch.”

“I’ll
race you.” Anne grasped her riding crop and slapped it against the mare’s
hindquarters. She laughed as her mount lurched forward, giving her a head
start. Calum dashed up beside her on his bay stallion, but slowed his pace to
match hers. They pulled the ponies to a stop. “You let me win.”

Calum
ran his hand along the coarse neck of his Highland steed. “Did I?”

She
now understood why Bran had ridden ahead. He’d spread a blanket over the grass
and in the center sat a lovely basket, a flagon and three brass goblets. Beyond
it, the slope opened to a pool of water, edged by ferns and willow trees.

Calum
jumped down from his mount and raised his arms up to Anne. “May I help ye
dismount?”

His
eyes sparkled like blue crystals in the sunlight. Her tongue flicked out and
tapped her teeth. With a stutter of her heart, she reached out and placed her hands
on his shoulders.

Calum’s
fingers clamped around her waist and he drew her to him. Anne gasped when her
breasts pressed against his hard chest. He held her there for a moment while he
took in a deep breath, then slid her down his body until Anne’s feet touched
ground.

She
slipped her hands to his upper arms, as firm as granite under her grasp. Wanting
to touch more of him, she squeezed his muscles tighter.

Calum’s
hands tightened around her waist.

She
glanced at the blanket and food awaiting them. “If I didn’t know better, I
would guess you sent young Bran ahead so the luncheon would be ready when we
arrived.”

“Aye,
of course he did milady,” Bran said before Calum could defend himself.

Calum
released her and stepped back. “It made sense to me to have the picnic all
ready when ye got here—and who better to prepare it than the chaperone?”

Rather
than take issue with his specious reasoning, Anne sat on the blanket. It would
have been inconvenient for Calum to ask someone appropriate, such as Friar Pat,
to escort them. The friar wouldn’t bend to Calum’s whims. But Bran, on the
other hand, would do anything to find favor with his laird.

“How
old were you when you came to Raasay?” Anne asked.

Calum
reclined on his elbow while Bran found a seat on a nearby rock. “One and
twenty.”

“What
was it like? Did you strut onto the beach, stick your pennant into the ground,
and tell the clan you were their chieftain?”

“Something
like that, but I had an entourage from Lewis. Me da and me older brother were with
me.”

“Did
the people accept you or did you have to earn their trust?”

“Och,
I had to earn it right enough.” Calum uncorked the flagon and poured a goblet
of for Anne and then one for Bran and another for himself. “But me da’s gift of
the
Sea Dragon
softened them a bit.
Once we started rebuilding the keep, everyone came ’round.”

Anne
pulled the cloth off the basket, reached in for a parcel and unwrapped it.
Smoked herring—a staple for the MacLeod’s. She broke the bread and they ate.

As
daintily as possible, she swirled the herring in her mouth and muted the fishy taste
with a bite of bread. Anne fidgeted as Calum’s gaze never strayed from her face.
She needed a diversion from the yearning his attentions stirred.

Looking
up at the sky, she searched for birds and heard the screech before she spotted
its source. A magnificent golden eagle soared over the rocky terrain.
“Look—there’s an eagle.”

Calum
sat up and followed her line of sight. “I kent we’d see them.” He flicked his
wrist at Bran. “Go follow it lad, and see if ye can find its nest.”

Bran’s
face fell. “But I haven’t finished me luncheon.”

“Ye
can take it along.”

Bran
groused under his breath as he shoved a handful of herring in his mouth and
washed it down with a hearty gulp of ale. Then he headed off.

“There’s
a good lad,” Calum called after him.

Anne
tapped a finger to her lips. “You drive the boy awfully hard.”

“Aye?
With his da gone, someone has to ensure he grows up to be a MacLeod. No milk-livered
men will last in
this
clan.”

Anne
eyed his firm jawline and trailed her gaze down Calum’s sturdy neck. She had
little doubt his words rang true. Raasay was no place for the faint of heart.

He
inched toward her and ran a finger over the back of her hand. Anne’s skin
tingled. How could the hands of such a vigorous man be so gentle? She’d watched
him wield his claymore with forceful power, and no man on the island could best
him, yet with her he could be so tender. She closed her eyes, giving in to the
thrill of his touch. How she wished she’d never attended the queen’s
coronation.

“How
did yer uncle become mixed up with the likes of Wharton?” Calum asked, as if
he’d heard her thoughts.

Anne’s
eyes flew open. “I don’t pretend to know what goes on between the dealings of
men, but they’re both members of the House of Lords. I imagine they met there.”