Claimed by a Laird

Laura
Glenn

Anna has had little luck in love.
After a long string of heartaches and an abusive relationship, she doesn’t let
her guard down. But when a family legacy rips her through the fabric of time,
she finds herself in the arms of Galen MacAirth, a thirteenth-century warlord
who tugs at something deep within her shielded heart as he stakes his claim on
her body.

Galen has been imprisoned by a
rival clan. When Anna appears, offering him a chance at escape, he seizes both
his freedom and the fiery redhead. Her opinions are strange, but her courage,
beauty and passion stoke a possessiveness within him he has never known.

Though Anna surrenders her body to
Galen, her heart is harder for him to capture. When a dark figure from her past
emerges to reclaim her, she must decide if she can trust her newfound love, and
Galen must fight to protect a woman with a history more complex and dangerous
than he ever imagined.

A
Romantica®
time travel erotic romance
from Ellora’s Cave

1213, Castle Graham, Scotland

Light filtered through her red curls, throwing a
halo-like glow around her head. Swaying about her neck on a delicate, silver
chain was an amber-colored quartz pendant. It dangled above him, glinting in
the sunlight from the window above. She cast her sweet, reassuring smile down
to him as she studied him for a brief moment before lifting the grate off the
dungeon opening. The ear-bending din of metal scraping against stone
reverberated throughout the damp and dim chamber.

Galen awoke with a start, his heart thudding inside his
chest. It was the fifth dream in two days he’d had of the angel who came to
save him. He pushed himself up off the dank, dirt floor and leaned against the
slimy stone wall, wearily rubbing his eyes with his thumb and middle finger.
The image of the woman with the remarkable blue-green eyes flitted through his
mind once again, causing a deep, all-too-familiar ache to spread through his
groin.

He nearly laughed out loud at the absurdity of his reaction
to her image. She was a bonny lass to be sure, but she was not real. Perhaps
lack of proper water and food was beginning to addle his brain.

If only his brash, younger half brother, Geoffrey, had taken
the time to plan before he had acted. Maybe then Galen, laird of the MacAirth
clan, would not have had to come to his rescue only to end up at the bottom of
the Graham dungeon.

Geoffrey was hotheaded, to say the least—a typical young man
still stuck between full manhood and the tumult of adolescence. When the
pale-faced Graham messenger cowered before Galen and told him of his brother’s
bungled attempt to steal Graham cattle, Galen had half a mind to let Geoffrey
wallow in the Graham dungeon for a few days before going to negotiate his
release.

The only thing that made him reconsider was the knowledge
that the Graham was cousin to Alec Campbell—the man who had killed Galen’s
father on the battlefield nearly a dozen years ago. That alone, however, would
not have concerned Galen were the Campbells not also the paid henchmen of the
Gowries, the MacAirth clan’s greatest enemy.

Relations had been strained between the MacAirths and the
Gowries for a few generations, ever since one of Galen’s great-great-uncles had
become enamored with a daughter of the Gowrie laird. The woman had already been
betrothed to a son of the then king, but the young MacAirth did not care. He
simply stole her away to marry her in secret. Though his actions may have been
borne out of lust for a pretty lass, the marriage was the best thing to have
happened in their part of the Highlands at the time as far as Galen was
concerned. A union between the power-hungry Gowries and the crown surely would
have caused much more bloodshed over succeeding generations than did the
Gowries’ feud with the MacAirths.

But that was not the greatest sin of the Gowries. They
killed Galen’s mother when he was but a small child. True, not with their bare
hands, but if they had not chased her for sport while she was out riding, she
would not have been thrown from her horse and broken her neck.

But the MacAirths were not feuding with the Grahams in whose
dungeon Galen now sat. Or, at least, they had not been before this. Galen had
been assured the Graham was an honorable man, despite his questionable family
connections to the Campbells, and so he had assumed payment in exchange for his
brother’s life would suffice.

He was wrong. The Graham thought he could double cross Galen
by ransoming him back to his clan for more gold than Geoffrey could ever bring,
and so the Graham ordered five of his warriors to take Galen into custody.

Galen had little doubt he could’ve overcome five inept
Graham warriors under normal circumstances. He had left most of his weaponry,
however, with his small entourage waiting across the Graham border. Such was
the custom in the Highlands, done as an act of good faith. The only thing left
on his person was a small dagger that was hidden in his right boot. He could
have attempted an escape, but it would not have been nearly as entertaining as
an all-out battle where the Graham could be exposed and humiliated for his
treachery.

At that moment Galen’s clan was raising an army to retrieve
their laird. He had no doubts about that. It would not be much longer he would
be subjected to the indignity of the Graham castle dungeon.

The war hammer of the MacAirths was about to fall.

2013, Village of Fannich, Scotland

Anna Campbell tossed her long hair over her shoulder as she
rested her chin on her upturned palm and stared out the window of her
grandparents’ pub. She had tried to avoid looking in the direction of the old
castle all week, but her eyes traveled up the ancient road leading from the pub
up to the crumbling ruins of Graham Castle. The once imposing fortress silently
hugged the top of a craggy hill high above the village her mother and
generations of Grahams before her had called home. It dominated village life,
greeting her weary jet-lagged body as the bus rolled into town, overshadowing
her as she assisted her family in making last-minute arrangements for the
funeral of her grandmother, and standing like a silent sentry while she said
goodbye and the casket was lowered into the ground.

“Doing a bit of remembering?”

Anna jumped, turning toward her uncle, Ian Graham. She smiled
warmly, enjoying every moment he spoke to her just so she could listen to the
gentle burr of his Scottish accent. Now that he was older, he was beginning to
sound more and more like her grandfather who had passed away only a year after
she had last visited from the States ten years ago.

“I guess so,” she replied with a shrug.

“Are you thinking of going to the fair tomorrow, then?”

She shook her head emphatically. Though it had been nearly a
decade since she had met her ex-husband, James Gowrie, at the fair, that
particularly painful chapter of her life still seemed like it had happened
yesterday. Romantically starved and getting all her notions of love from
romance novels for so many years, she was easy pickings for James. Within two
days, she’d lost her mind and her virginity, in that order, and agreed to marry
him in secret.

So stupid. Anna sighed, running her fingertips along the
smooth grain of the nearly century-old windowsill. Whispers of the past swirled
around her and she couldn’t help but recall her cousin Helena’s sing-song voice
the day Anna met James.

“He’s staring at you!”

Anna rolled her eyes and stifled a giggle, too shy to
admit she found the tall, handsome young man attractive. Helena recognized him
from his stints as one of the characters at Fannich’s annual Medieval Fair held
up at the old Graham Castle ruins.

The fair “Romeo” is what Helena called him. Anna was
convinced he was totally out of her league. Having always had her nose in
schoolwork or a silly romance novel, she didn’t have much experience with boys.

Helena squeezed Anna’s hand. “Alex and I are gonna grab a
bridie. You want one?”

Anna shook her head, having filled up on her
grandmother’s version of the meat-stuffed pastry back at the family’s pub, and
smiled wistfully as Helena’s pretty, heart-shaped face turned up to look
lovingly at her boyfriend, Alex. A crooked, goofy grin spread across his face
and he swiftly planted a kiss at the corner of Helena’s mouth.

“All right, then,” Helena said with a giggle as she
turned back toward Anna and shoved her none too gently. “Don’t just stand
there. Go talk to the man!”

Before Anna could protest, her cousin and Alex
disappeared into the crowd. She dared a quick look where the man in question
had been standing, only to find he, too, had vanished.

She cast a wide gaze at the scene before her, hoping to
catch a glimpse of the young man, but was instead mesmerized once again by the
enchanting celebration surrounding her. The ruined castle and courtyard she had
admired from her bedroom window had been transformed into a medieval fair
complete with burly, kilted clansmen, bosomy wenches, knights and ladies and
court jesters. It was an enthralling celebration of the beginning of fall that
had been taking place for the past one hundred years in this little community
east of Ullapool in northwestern Scotland. Anna had never seen anything quite
like it before, though she had imagined such scenes hundreds of times. Many
times she had begged her mother to take her to one of the many medieval and Renaissance
festivals back home in Illinois, but her mother always refused.

“Are you having fun?” a male voice with a strangely thick
Scottish accent asked from behind her.

Startled out of her daydream, she whirled and came
face-to-face with the young man who had been staring at her. His hazel eyes
twinkled as he smiled down at her.

She nodded, shyly glancing at her shoes before daring a
look back up at him. His shoulder-length, light-brown hair fluttered in the
breeze. He wore an off-white, long shirt with billowy sleeves, belted around
his waist, and brown, wool pants tucked into his brown boots.

She forced herself to smile back, hoping to hide her
disappointment that he wasn’t wearing a kilt. Helena had explained to her that
the kilt wasn’t really worn until the later Renaissance and so only visitors to
the fair tended to wear them, unlike the workers who always dressed with the
utmost attention to historical accuracy. But, Lord, did she love a man in a
good kilt.

“What is your name, lassie?” he asked.

She also loved being called “lassie”.

“Anna Campbell,” she replied, her lashes fluttering
nervously against her brows.

Surprise flashed across his face. “I know many a Campbell
from up north. What is your father’s name? Mayhap I know of him.”

She shrugged daintily. “Alec. But I doubt you’ve met him.
I’ve never seen him myself.”

A brief, sly smile of satisfaction crossed his face. “Ah,
now that is a sad story,” he crooned. ”I am heartily sorry for it. Such a
pretty young thing should never be left to the wilds of the world unprotected.”
He gently lifted her hand to his mouth, lightly brushing his lips across it.

Her breath caught in her throat as she gazed at him,
entranced by the sweet, romantic gesture. Her mother’s warning voice echoed in
her head, but she immediately dismissed it. Just because her mother always
picked the wrong men, didn’t mean Anna would. Besides, her mother was nearly
four thousand miles away and there was not a damn thing she could do to stop
Anna right now.

“Well, what say you, Lady Campbell?” He clasped her hand
in both of his. “Shall we talk a bit o’er some ale? And mayhap you will honor
me with a dance later?”

Her smile broadened and her belly warmed. She had nearly
forgotten she was allowed to drink beer in Scotland at only eighteen years of
age. A flash of rebellion coursed through her as the thrill of freedom washed
away any inhibitions.

Wedded bliss was short-lived. Anna’s cheek involuntarily
twitched as she remembered James striking her when she refused to leave with
him on the last night of the fair without telling her grandparents goodbye. No
one had ever hit her before and a temper she never knew existed within her had
unleashed itself. She tried to run and then fight back when he caught her, but
he was too strong. If it had not been for Helena and Alex stumbling into them,
Anna may have been hurt worse than she had been. James had turned on Alex, and
Helena’s screams caused fair workers and attendees to rush toward them. James
took off running with Alex on his heels, disappeared into the castle ruins and
was never seen again.

Anna drew in a deep breath, shaking her head as though she
could dislodge and leave behind the memories of meeting James Gowrie.

Ian affectionately patted her shoulder. “Well, I’m sure you
learned your lesson. The memory of your grandmother shouting in your ear as she
held that frozen steak to your cheek should be a good reminder.”

Anna snorted. “It was years before I could stand the smell
of raw beef.”

He laughed, the cautiousness in his eyes shifting to a deep
sadness. “You could hardly blame her, though, seeing you beaten like you were
and after everything she’d gone through with your mother and that fair.”

She nodded. It wasn’t until she’d endured an hour of her
normally quiet grandmother’s banshee-like fury about her secretly marrying
James had Anna learned how her parents met. As she sat there in the pub’s
kitchen with the partially-thawed steak against her black eye, she had listened
to the heartbreaking tale of her sixteen-year-old mother, Karen, meeting Alec
Campbell, a costumed fair worker, the night of the fall equinox when the fair
began. Seven days later, on the final night of the fair, he disappeared,
leaving her alone and pregnant.

Much to everyone’s surprise, Alec did eventually come
back—one year later on the fall equinox when Anna was almost three months old.
Unfortunately, he disappeared again seven days later, just as he had one year
before. But, thankfully, someone had the presence of mind to snap at least one
photograph of Alec before he left.

Anna’s stomach tensed as she recalled the blend of panic,
excitement and dread that fell upon her when her grandmother had handed her
that photo. She’d never seen one of her dad before and her mother had always
refused to talk about him. Though the photo was now carefully tucked away in a
box in her bedroom closet back in the States, Anna could recall every detail as
though she were holding it in her hand. Standing at the bar in her
grandparents’ pub—only ten feet from where she now stood—wearing his historical
costume for the fair, her father held her tiny infant body in front of him,
cradling her in his massive palms as he tenderly stared at her.

The shocking red hair and vivid sea-blue eyes in that
photograph proved to have been a revelation. The disgust glowing in her
mother’s eyes now and then when she looked at Anna must have been because she
resembled her father. Karen had been petite with straight golden-brown hair,
soft brown eyes and a pert, upturned nose. Anna, on the other hand, was tall
with a long, straight nose, a mass of long, curly red hair and greenish-blue
eyes—quite obviously her father’s daughter.

“It was good you got away from James when you did, lass,”
Ian stated with an angry shake of his head. “I still remember the body of that
young man we found whose ID James used to marry you.”

She nodded, burying the guilt over the murdered young man as
deeply as she could within her psyche. If it hadn’t been for her—if it hadn’t
been for James—that young man would most likely be alive today.

She sighed, glancing at the castle through the window. As
much pain as that place held for her, she was still inexplicably drawn to it.
Yes, it was where she went through something heart-wrenching and frightening,
but it was also where her parents had met. A strange, urgent need propelled her
to go there one last time before flying back to Chicago in a couple of days.
Who knew when she would ever actually get the chance to return to Scotland?

“It was good of you to come all the way here,” Ian
commented. “Your grandmother would have appreciated it.”

Tears filled Anna’s eyes. Lord, but she missed her
grandmother. After the incident with James, her mother cut her off financially
and Anna was not able to return to Scotland. She’d worked two jobs while
attending college to become a nurse. Once she was employed full-time, her crazy
schedule always seemed to conspire against any sort of extended vacation to the
place that was once her home. It took her grandmother’s recent death to finally
get her back.

“I am sorry we were not able to come to you when your mother
died last year.” Ian eyed her with sympathy. “Your grandmother was so ill I was
afraid to leave her.”

Anna nodded and squeezed his hand. “It’s all right. Mom
didn’t want a funeral anyway. Besides, we weren’t exactly on speaking terms.”

Ian shook his head in obvious distress. “I just wish I had
been around for you. For Karen. If only I’d not been gone in the army when that
American oil man came through here and took the two of you home with him. You
were such a wee little thing you probably don’t even remember your life here.”

Anna shrugged. “No, not too much, I guess.”

She glanced around the empty pub as tiny snippets of
memories floated back to her. Her mother waiting on tables. Sitting on her
grandfather’s knee and petting his beard as he laughed with his friends. Her
grandmother bringing her toasted cheese sandwiches cut into little bites at the
same time she brought her grandfather his nightly dram of whisky.

She couldn’t have been more than three years old when she
and her mother moved to the States. That was when things went downhill and the
days and nights filled with familial warmth and love had twisted into
loneliness and strife. Her mother and stepdad fought constantly and, within two
years, they had separated. Then came the long string of boyfriends and
marriages her mother went through all the while dragging her daughter
throughout the Midwest, following one man after another.

“Helena’s making supper tonight,” Ian commented. “The twins
were asking for you when I stopped by there.”

Joy lightened Anna’s heart as she recalled how much fun
she’d had playing with the two little girls while she and Helena caught up the
day before their grandmother’s funeral. “They look exactly like their mother,
don’t they?”

“Yes,” Ian answered proudly. “They’re gonna give their da,
Alex, a run for his money soon enough.”

She laughed. Grandfatherhood seemed to really agree with her
uncle. Without a decent man in sight, she was beginning to wonder if she would
ever have children of her own.

“Are you doing all right back home, lass?” he asked as
though he could read her thoughts. “We worry about you a bit with no family to
speak of. Any boyfriends we should know about?”

She shook her head, her lips twisting into a sardonic smile.
Perhaps two years ago she could have said yes. That was the last time she’d
been in any sort of relationship. Well, that is if one could call the
two-month, on-again-off-again affair she’d had with an emergency room doctor,
which had ended when Anna kicked his ass to the curb after finding out he had a
fiancé, a “relationship”.