Claimed by a Laird (14 page)

Anna turned toward John and it eventually dawned on her the
old man was more worried about Adam’s genitals laid out in plain sight than he
was about her tending to the injury. She rolled her eyes. “Really, if you’ve
seen one, then you’ve seen them all.”

The men around her chuckled uncomfortably, except for John
and Galen. Galen cocked an eyebrow at her and then handed Adam the flask before
grabbing one edge of the sheet and tossing it across his friend’s pelvis.

Adam nudged Galen’s arm with the flask, nodding toward the
cap so Galen would open it. “I did not think you were a jealous man,” he
teased.

Galen pulled the top off the flask. “You are lucky you are
already bleeding.”

Anna’s cheeks flushed in embarrassment over the conversation
her snide comment had started. Thankfully, two young men entered the room, each
carrying a bowl of steaming water. They set them down on the trunk beside Anna
and then one walked back to the doorway to retrieve a platter from Catriona,
which held needles, thread, scissors and soap. Anna thanked her before the
young warrior closed the door again.

Adam raised the leather pouch to his lips and tilted it
back.

“What’s in that?” Anna asked.

“Whisky, of course,” Owen responded.

She nodded. “No more than a couple of drinks, Adam. Your
blood won’t clot properly if you drink too much.”

A hush fell over the room as Anna grabbed the soap and
dipped her hands in the hot water of one of the bowls, scrubbing her skin and
nails thoroughly. When she had finished, she dried her hands and grabbed a
clean washcloth.

The men with candles moved forward as she bent to the task
of cleaning the wound. She carefully washed away the excess blood from Adam’s
skin and then proceeded to pick every speck of lint and dirt out of the cut.

Time seemed to stand still as she worked. She was determined
to do everything in her power to prevent any sort of infection from setting in.
Finally, she sat back and closed her fatigued eyes for a few moments.

No one spoke. Straining to catch any breathing noises from
Adam, Anna opened her eyes in panic only to find him staring at her. She sat up
and placed two fingers on his wrist to assess his pulse.

“Are you ready, Adam?” she asked, worried over the pallor of
his skin.

“Yes, my lady.”

She smiled at the strength in his voice and threaded the
needle. “Cal, will you take the scissors over to the fire and pass the blade
through the flames for a count of about sixty?”

“Of course, my lady,” he murmured.

Owen moved to her side and peered over her shoulder. “What
good is that going to do?” he grumbled.

“It will ensure the scissors are free of anything that could
contribute to an infection.” Hopefully, he wouldn’t question her further. She
wasn’t certain she could deal with the distraction.

“Here, have another drink,” Galen gruffly commanded as he
tilted the flask to his friend’s lips.

Anna stared at Galen in a panic. She was in way over her
head. He caught her gaze and slowly nodded. His confidence bored into her,
boosting her strength.

She bent over Adam once again, took a deep breath and slowly
sunk the needle into his flesh. Adam made no movement at all. Taking care to
keep her stitches even and taut, she worked nonstop until she finally reached
the other end of the wound. Exhausted, she made the last knot in the thread and
dropped the needle on the platter before stretching her arms far above her head
and groaning.

“It is over already?” Adam asked with a weak smile.

“Yes, old man,” Galen smacked him on the shoulder. “It goes
by quickly when you faint away like a woman.”

“I did no such thing,” Adam grumbled. “You are lucky your
woman is here otherwise I would lay you flat.”

Anna dabbed at the excess blood around the stitches with a
wet washcloth. “Do enlighten me, Galen,” she said, not lifting her eyes from
her task. “If women cannot handle pain, then perhaps men should be the ones to
push seven-pound babies out of their—”

“All right, lass, you have made your point.” John awkwardly
patted her shoulder and leaned in to peer at Adam’s wound. “Those are some
mighty fine stitches you have there.”

One by one, the other men in the room approached the bed and
grunted their agreement. Cal was the final person to examine Anna’s handiwork.
“Those stitches are so fine you are not going to have much of a scar to show
Catriona. I do not know how you will get that pretty young thing to look at
your sorry old arse without one.”

Laughter erupted from the men behind her. Anna caught Adam’s
movements out of the corner of her eye and jumped up to push him back as he
attempted to lunge for Cal.

“That’s enough, you guys!” she barked. Turning toward the
rest of the men, she placed her hands on her hips and glared them into silence.
“Everyone out. Now.”

Nods and mutterings of “sorry, my lady” filled the room as
the men filed out. Anna busied herself with cleaning the room as she mulled
over what, if anything, she could use to help prevent infection. She turned her
back to Galen and Adam and chewed her lower lip while she organized the used
supplies.

Warmth surrounded her and a hand glided up her spine to her
neck.

“You did well, Annie,” Galen whispered against her ear as he
gently massaged the base of her neck. “You should stop worrying.”

She shook her head, leaning back into the soothing
ministrations of his hand. “What if it gets infected? I don’t have any of the
medicines I normally work with.”

He shrugged. “Tell me what you need to make them and I shall
send my men out to procure the ingredients.”

Anna sighed, her shoulders slumping in defeat. “We never
made our own medicines. We bought them.”

His quizzical stare nearly burned into her cheek, but she
refused to meet his gaze. “Some healer I am.” She tossed the last used cloth
onto a pile with the others.

Galen gently pressed his thumb and forefinger into her neck,
rubbing in slow, relaxing circles. “Aye, you are some healer. Did you see those
stitches? You knew exactly what to do and you did not give up until the work
was completed.”

Galen’s name was shouted from somewhere outside the room,
followed by loud footsteps echoing through the corridor.

They both turned toward the door as a young warrior rushed
into the room. “We have one of them, Laird!”

Galen glanced down at Anna before giving her shoulder a soft
pat and following the young man out of the room.

Anna took a deep breath and closed her eyes, shaking her
head as she put the scissors on top of the used bandages. Straightening her
shoulders, she fixed a gentle smile on her face and turned toward her patient,
only to find him sound asleep.

Grateful for the reprieve, she relaxed her shoulders and
moved toward the bed, bending over Adam to smooth the blanket across his chest.
His wrist was upturned and she took the opportunity to assess his pulse once
more.

In the stillness of the room, a memory of her grandmother
telling her about putting honey on cuts when she was a child floated through
Anna’s mind. When she was studying to become a nurse she had indeed read a
paper on the antimicrobial nature of honey. Perhaps she could dab some on
Adam’s wound.

A light rapping at the door and she glanced up as a
grim-faced Cal entered the room. “My lady, the laird requests your presence in
the hall.”

Her stomach knotted. James Gowrie’s face flashed before her
and she shook her head. James hadn’t even been born yet, she reminded herself.
There was no way he could get to her now.

Anna smiled at Cal and followed him down the corridor to the
stairs. As she descended them, Galen’s raised voice echoed up to her, bouncing
off the stone walls.

“Were you sent by the Gowrie?” he demanded.

Startled, Anna paused.

Cal turned and offered her his hand. “Everything will be all
right, my lady. There is no need to be frightened.”

She nodded and placed her shaking hand in his. He patted it
and guided her down the stairs.

“Be sure to hold onto her, Cal,” Galen instructed without
turning toward them. “She is likely to slip.”

Anna’s head snapped up from where she’d been staring at the
ground, her gaze landing upon the massive breadth of Galen’s back across the
room. Several MacAirth warriors stood before him, hands clasped behind their
backs and angry stares centered on someone on the floor at Galen’s feet.

A growl beside her caught her attention. Galen’s dog brushed
against her legs and stood next to her. Her heart briefly paused in her chest
until she realized he wasn’t growling at her, but at the scene before them.

A confusing mixture of fear and anger swirled through her
and she gripped Cal’s hand to steady herself as they moved forward. The dog
moved with them, placing himself slightly ahead of Anna, almost as if to
protect her.

As they approached, a young, bloodied man kneeling before
Galen came into view. Eyes widening in distress, Anna released her hold on Cal
and dashed toward the prisoner.

The dog darted in front of her, stopping her in her tracks,
and growled through bared teeth at the kneeling man. The prisoner glanced up at
the huge beast, fear flashing through his hazel eyes.

Anna froze, unable to tear her stare away from the man
before her. The color of his eyes were all too familiar. More golden than green
or brown—just like James. His nose, the turn of his jaw and his body structure
all whispered of a connection to her ex. Her stomach flipped in distress.

But then there was his golden-brown hair, much lighter than
James’ had been. Thankfully, other minor physical differences finally leaped
out at her and she was able to breathe again.

She shook her head to rid it of her thoughts of James.
“Dog!” she commanded, walking around the animal to examine the prisoner’s
injuries.

The dog quieted and sat on his haunches, watchfully eying
them.

The young man suffered from a swollen eye and a nasty gash
on his cheek just below. He held one wrist with his other hand, the knuckles
torn and bleeding. He glanced up at her in relief before dropping his attention
to the amber quartz pendant lying against her chest.

Anna searched the room for someone to assist her and found
Mary standing in the shadows near the corridor that led to the kitchen. “Mary,
bandages, soap and hot water, please.”

“Stay where you are, Mary,” Galen ordered.

Anna turned toward him in exasperation, propping her hands
on her hips. “You know very well I cannot leave him like this.”

“It would be a simple waste of time, lass, since he is a
dead man already,” Galen replied through gritted teeth, his blackened
expression on the man before him.

Anna bolted between Galen and the prisoner. “Not while he is
in my care.”

Galen menacingly stepped toward her, causing her to tilt her
head back just to look him in the eye. His stormy countenance and twitch in his
jaw were almost enough to shake her resolve.

She swallowed hard. Galen would never physically hurt her.
But, damn it all, the man was frightening when he was riled. “I will not let
you intimidate me,” she whispered, steeling her will.

“What is this obsession of yours with protecting men who do
not deserve your concern?” he whispered back. “First the Graham guard and now
this man whose friends nearly killed Adam.”

Anna crossed her arms and matched his scowl. “I heal people,
not hurt them. Revenge gets no one anywhere.”

His jaw clenched, causing the scar on his cheek to twitch as
a flicker of barely restrained fury crossed his face. “You forget, my sweet.
You are in the Highlands. Revenge gets you everywhere.”

His breath settled across her cheek like a caress. She
shivered, tilting her head up in defiance. “Then at least let me heal him
enough to make it a fair fight.”

Their lips were only mere inches apart. His power radiated
outward, seeping into her skin and shaking her to her core. Lightheaded, her
lips parted slightly and she resisted the urge to lick them.

His eyes glinted sliver, the corners crinkling slightly as a
barely perceptible, arrogant smile quickly passed across his mouth and then
disappeared as if it were only meant for her.

“A fair fight?” one of the warriors behind her snapped.
“That is not what Adam got.”

With the spell broken, Galen stepped back and Anna turned toward
the speaker, ready to lecture the young warrior on the concept of basic human
rights.

Then it hit her. She had been going about this all wrong. In
order to get what she wanted, she had to quit using modern arguments and
instead play the game with thirteenth-century ideals. “You are a MacAirth,” she
retorted, confidence surging through her. “The Gowries may be dishonorable and
underhanded, but you are not.”

The young man averted his eyes from her admonishing stare.
Satisfied, she turned around to deal with Galen. She opened her mouth—

“Move away from him, woman.”

Afraid she was quickly losing the battle, she grabbed
Galen’s forearms. “Galen, you don’t know who sent them. If you kill him, you
may never find out for certain,” she whispered.

He stared at her for the briefest moment before grabbing her
by the arms and lifting her off to the side.

“No!” She reached for Galen to stop him as he moved toward
the prisoner.

Cal grabbed her from behind and pulled her back. “My lady,
it is the laird’s right.”

Stunned into silence and certain she was about to witness
something for which she would never forgive Galen, a sickening wave of horror
swept through her.

He leaned down and grabbed the prisoner by the neck, digging
his fingers into the man’s skin. “Saved by a woman,” he sneered as the young
man sputtered, struggling for breath. “Lucky bastard. Remember this. Remember
how your life was spared by the MacAirths, but never forget I might change my
mind a few moments or a few days from now, depending upon my mood.”