Claimed by a Laird (6 page)

“I-I can’t!” Her foot slipped from the stone wall. A small
whimper escaped her lips.

“Trust me.”

For whatever reason, those two little words from this man in
particular calmed her and caused her to do something, which under normal
circumstances she would have never done.

She let go.

After a mere second of free-fall, she landed with a thud
against something that, for a moment, seemed not unlike the stone wall she had
just been descending. Galen’s arms quickly curled around her torso and legs and
she curved into him, gasping for air to relieve the tension bursting from her
lungs.

“You are all right,” he whispered into her hair, clasping
her tightly against his chest. With a quick, deliberate turn he strode toward
the river with her tucked snugly in his arms.

His warmth permeated her clothing, sending comforting
tremors through her skin. She tucked her head underneath his chin, taking
solace in the steady thud of his heart beating soundly against her. Flattening
her palm against his chest, she slid it toward his shoulder, reveling in the
sharp contours of every muscle. His closeness was so male, so restorative and
oh-so reassuring.

Galen stopped and the roar of rushing water broke through
her brief dream-like state. He tilted her forward, placing her feet upon the
uneven ground, and she took a reluctant step back from him.

He grasped her shoulders, forcing her to bend her neck
nearly all the way back just to look at him. How had she missed that he seemed
nearly as tall as the Caledonian pines surrounding them? She was by no means a
short woman, but for the first time in a long while a sense of awe overcame her
as he towered over her.

“Can you swim?” he asked.

Anna nodded absentmindedly, distracted by the tough, lean
nature of his broad shoulders. Power radiated from every inch of his body,
causing tiny ripples of pleasure to course through her.

His massive, square hands gripped her shoulders tighter.
“Anna?”

She shook her head to regain control of her thoughts,
pulling the front edges of her cardigan across her chest. “Yes, I can swim.”

“Good,” he replied as he released her. “We must cross this
river in order to reach safety.”

She nervously stared at the rushing, moonlit water and then
at Galen, already stepping into the river. Glancing over her shoulder, she
prayed for those familiar ruins to appear instead of the darkened, foreboding
castle, but her hopes were dashed. She was left with no other alternative than
to blindly follow this strange man.

Anna didn’t give herself time to change her mind once she
faced the river. She rushed to Galen’s side and grabbed his hand. He looked
down at her before pulling her into the frigid river behind him. The water
swirled into her boots and wrapped her skirt around her legs, the cold
temperature chilling her to the bone. They slid down into the water until she
was submerged to her chin.

Galen turned to her, his lips moving as though he were
speaking. The roar of the rushing water all around them completely drowned out
his voice.

“What?” she shouted.

Her foot slipped on a rock in the river bed and she went
under, her hand ripped from Galen’s by the current. Pitch-black cold surrounded
her as she fell backward in slow motion. The river picked her up and swiftly
carried her downstream. Fear gripped her heart and she desperately fought to
push herself toward the surface.

With her lungs screaming for air, Anna finally caught a
foothold and used it to propel herself up. She broke the surface, gasping as
she struggled to remain above water. She wasn’t certain which side of the river
they had been heading toward, but she no longer cared.

Shouts from somewhere to her left cut through the thundering
river and she plowed forward despite the weight of her water-logged clothing.
It didn’t matter who or what was waiting for her at the river’s edge—only that
she got there in one piece.

Anna stumbled forward, her knees scraping the rocks of the
riverbed as her palms broke her fall. Her wrists screamed in pain upon impact,
but were quickly forgotten as she reached the embankment. Relieved, she planted
her feet on the ground and slogged the rest of the way to shore. Her lungs
burned as she gasped from the exertion. She was about to fall to the ground
when, from out of nowhere, a strong, roped arm encircled her waist.

Galen’s voice was her salvation. “Lean into me. I have you
now.”

She shook her head, her jelly-like legs threatening to
collapse underneath her. “I just want to sit down for a little while,” she
pleaded between breaths, leaning the side of her face against the warmth of his
hard chest.

“No, we must get out of the moonlight and into the cover of
the forest.” He guided her away from the river.

A strange lightness on her shoulders caught her attention,
as if something was missing. Panicked, she patted her body and looked down. Her
purse was gone. Pulling away from him, she grasped wildly at her shoulders,
searching for the strap.

Without thinking, she turned back toward the river. “My
bag!”

“There is no time.” Galen yanked her toward him. “It is
gone.”

“But—”

He ignored her and roughly pulled her forward.

Twigs crackled beneath their feet as they made their way
into the quiet cover of the forest. Tears of exhaustion and fear stung her eyes
and she bit her lower lip to fight the sobs threatening to spill forth.

Galen seized her hips and withdrew her through the dense
underbrush until the rough bark of a tree pressed into her back. Brushing wet
clumps of hair out of her face, he gruffly asked, “Are you all right?” He
worriedly glanced up and down her body.

She nodded as one tear escaped down her cheek.

His expression darkened. “I am so sorry, Annie. I am so
sorry,” he whispered over and over as he smoothed her hair away from her
cheeks.

She shook her head. They had to keep moving or risk Galen
becoming recaptured by the Grahams. Or the Campbells. Or was it the Gowries?
How was she going to keep all of these clans straight?

Her head swam and trepidation rippled through her. There was
no way Galen would escape his captors if he had to worry about her clumsy,
slow-wittedness. Besides, if she could make it to the castle, maybe she could
find a way back to her own time.

“I don’t know if I can do this, Galen,” she whispered with a
desperate push against his chest. “You need to go on without me.”

“No, the worst is over.” He cupped her face between his
large, roughened palms.

Anna shook her head again, determined to make him
understand. “I’m only slowing you down. You’re going to get caught.”

“I will not abandon you!”

The urgent, sincere tone in his voice pierced her heart. He
could not know what such words meant to her. She lifted her eyes to his in
complete surrender, inexplicably and instantly ready to do whatever this
stranger asked of her.

A spark ignited in his gray eyes as though he could read her
thoughts. Galen’s mouth swooped down to capture hers. The back of her head hit
the tree as his hard, searching lips covered hers. All thoughts of home and her
brush with death left her mind as searing heat traveled through her abdomen.
She parted her lips, lightly whimpering as her whole body melted into his.

He slanted his mouth over hers, taking advantage of her
parted lips by gently slipping his velvety tongue between them. Shivers of
desire coursed down her spine and her tongue darted into his warm mouth. He
shuddered against her before breaking the kiss.

Galen released his hold on her face, leaning one forearm
against the tree above her head. His ragged breathing filled her ears, drowning
out the sounds of the forest and the rushing river as he stared down at her.

Anna’s cheeks heated as a familiar ache spread between her
thighs. Embarrassed that she’d gone from fearing for her life to complete lust
so quickly, she attempted to tear her eyes from his but he firmly held her
gaze. The cloudy, unfathomable depths of his eyes mesmerized her, sending
thrilling tremors of desire through her skin.

“Now you have been kissed by a real Highland warrior,” he
announced. “That is the kiss you should remember. Not that of some inept Graham
guard.”

His voice wrapped itself around her and warmth rippled
through her belly. She inhaled deeply in an attempt to bring herself back to
reality, but something had changed about him. The dank dungeon scent was gone,
replaced by the fresh aroma of the river and an unidentifiable masculine scent
that redirected her thoughts back to the growing moisture between her legs.

“You don’t smell like dungeon anymore,” she whispered in
wonder as a hot ache grew in her throat.

He raised one eyebrow, clearly confused by her strange
response.

Anna wrapped her hand around the back of his neck and pulled
him forward, crushing her lips against his. Somewhere in the back of her mind
was shock over her behavior. Leaping into physical affection with a perfect
stranger was what got her into trouble in the first place with James and since
then she’d always made a point to keep her distance from a man until she knew
him better. But she couldn’t seem to find the will to care with
Galen—especially not when those lips she had spent the past couple of hours
fantasizing about were eagerly kissing her back.

Galen growled, picking up where he left off by hungrily
forcing his tongue into her mouth. His kiss was demanding and her heart
pounding in an erratic rhythm. The strength and warmth of his flesh assaulted
her senses, overwhelming her. Throwing both arms around his neck, she ignored
her tired muscles and leaped up, wrapping her legs around his waist.

His hands slid down to her backside, his fingers digging
into her sensitive flesh as he pushed her against the tree again. Dizziness
swept over her as his lips captured her bottom lip and gently tugged. The tip
of his cock, hard and thick, strained against her pussy, blocked only by their
river-soaked clothing.

Galen thrust his hips forward, luring a low moan from her
throat as the ache in her core deepened. The headiness of the pressure of his
hard cock sent her mind whirling in a mixture of desire and admonition. She
knew she shouldn’t be encouraging this stranger to touch her so intimately, but
the growing heat deep in her belly was raw and demanding.

He abruptly tore his lips away, dragging them across her
cheek before leaning the side of his face against hers. “Not now, Annie,” he
whispered, his breath heavy and rough against her ear. “It is not safe here.
Besides, I need a proper meal first or you are likely to kill me.”

She stiffened and the full realization of what she was doing
hit her. Her cheeks flamed in embarrassment. What had gotten into her? It
shouldn’t matter how long it had been since she’d last had sex or that never in
her life had a man who looked like he should be walking down the red carpet to
the opening of his latest action movie had kissed her. They were in some
serious potential danger and Galen had barely eaten in two days.

“I’m sorry,” she mumbled, struggling out of his grasp and
planting her feet on the ground. She smoothed her soaked, rumpled clothing as
best as she could and turned to walk away.

Galen grabbed her arm and whirled her to face him. “You are
angry,” he stated with a frown.

She shook her head in exasperation. Unable to meet his eyes,
she stared straight at his chest. Unfortunately, the moonlight filtering
through the overhead branches spotlighted how his soaked shirt clung to the
contours of every muscle.

She pushed her gaze to the ground. “Not at you. I’m mad at
myself.”

“Why?”

“Because I don’t know you. That wasn’t like me back there,”
she explained, finding it increasingly difficult to remain coherent in his
presence. “I don’t do that sort of thing with men I’ve just met.”

He grabbed her chin and forced her face upward, his eyes
smoldering with unquenched desire. “That is good to hear, but I will not be
denied.”

Her eyes widened at the arrogance of his words. “Excuse me?”

He released her jaw and grabbed her by the hand. Walking in
the opposite direction she had been headed, he replied, “It is simple, lass. I
will have you in my bed soon enough.”

She shivered, partly in reaction to his words and partly
because of the wind blowing straight through her wet clothing. As hard as she
tried to shake off the ridiculous notion that she could be
the
Anna
Campbell, Galen’s response sat in the pit of her stomach while the tour guide’s
story swirled through her head.

She sidestepped some brush that almost tangled her feet.
“What’s going to happen to me?” she asked, hating that her voice was shaking.

He clutched her hand gently in his, his voice clear and
self-assured. “I will take care of you.”

Anna shivered against Galen as they walked through the dark
forest. He rubbed her soft, delicate hand, resting on his biceps, in an attempt
to warm her cold skin. She hadn’t spoken a single word since they began their
journey a couple of hours ago. His eyes were heavy, but he ignored his fatigue.
He had to concentrate and keep his ears open for any indication his men were nearby.

Or his enemies.

She leaned into him, resting the side of her face on his
upper arm. Her weariness was palpable though she did not complain. She tripped
now and then, but he always quickly righted her. It was the least he could do
since almost allowing her to drown in the river.

Galen clenched his jaw. He should have tightened his hold on
her when they crossed the river. This woman—this angel—had rescued him. Before
her intervention, he had assumed his fate was sealed. Either his clan would
reach the Graham stronghold in time to release him or the Gowrie would reach
him first. If the former, the death of many of his men would have not been
necessarily guaranteed, but quite likely given the difficulty of taking an
entire castle. If the latter, his own death would have been unmistakably
certain. The MacAirths, after all, had been a thorn in the side of the Gowries
for generations—there was no way the Gowrie laird would have passed the
opportunity to run Galen through out of sheer revenge.

Yes, he should have taken better care of her. Anna had
almost died for her efforts. It was simply unacceptable for him to have not
paid more attention to the woman he had decided to take for his own the moment
he climbed out of the dungeon pit.

But would she even have him now?

Galen pushed the worry aside. Of course she would. She could
barely stop touching him when they sat in the dungeon antechamber together.
Plus, she was the one who had initiated the second kiss. Passion such as what
she displayed could not be easily faked. She would have him simply because she
wanted him.

A smug grin of male satisfaction spread across his face.

Anna had no one in his world, if her fantastical story was
to be believed. Though his head told him traveling backward through time was
impossible, his gut told him to trust her. The woman seemed incapable of hiding
her true emotions, almost as if her very thoughts were written on her forehead.
She’d had no idea where she was once they left the dungeon. Besides, there was
no way a creature such as she could have gone unnoticed as she wandered about
the castle. That Graham guard who had pawed at her like a pig in rut had
obviously never seen her before.

Yes, Anna was alone in his world. And vulnerable. No one
could learn of her true origins. The only way to protect her and repay her for
aiding his escape would be to place her under his protection.

And the only way to honorably do that would be to make her
his woman.

Hell, the king had been breathing down his neck for some
time now to choose some sniveling mere slip of a woman, barely out of
childhood, from one of the broods of the border chieftains. Galen, however, had
been too busy rebuilding his clan after his father, Malcolm, had nearly
destroyed it by the time of his death a dozen years ago. He hadn’t had time to
think about finding a wife and producing heirs.

Malcolm MacAirth had been a good laird in the beginning.
Unfortunately, the man was never the same after Galen’s mother was killed,
thrown from a horse while attempting an escape from a group of Gowrie warriors.
Malcolm had grown distant and, instead of spending the evenings playing with
Galen as he had before she died, he locked himself in his room and downed
whisky until he passed out.

Many things suffered under his father’s control. The clan
was nearly torn to shreds over the lack of leadership and care. Housing became
scarce, excess crops went unsold and eventually spoiled, and children died for
lack of better healers. The only thing that did not suffer was the defense of
the clan. That was one duty Malcolm never shirked. He was more than willing to
go into battle and became renown throughout Scotland for his wildness in a
fight. His tactical brilliance translated into many victories for the
MacAirths, but his recklessness eventually became his downfall. He was struck
down on the battlefield by the Campbell laird, Alec, during one of their many
rows with the Gowries.

It had taken Galen nearly a decade to undo the damage
wrought by his father’s inattentiveness. Thanks to his focus and determination,
he and the MacAirths were a force to be reckoned with once again.
Unfortunately, that also brought every chieftain with a spoiled daughter to
unload and a desire for an alliance with a stronger clan to his doorstep.

Yes, Anna would do just fine as his wife. No messy clan
alliances or weak, sniveling women to deal with. He would provide for her and
protect her. Marrying her would more than repay his debt to her for aiding his
escape, and then he could go on with a free mind, a clear conscience and complete
control over his life.

Not to mention, a hot little wife in his bed.

The only problem was her eyes. Those gorgeous, sea-blue orbs
simultaneously mesmerized and triggered something deep within his memory he
could not quite grasp. They reminded him of someone else, but he could not for
the life of him think of whom.

The smell of burning wood wafted toward his nose, tearing
him out of his musings. He pressed his fingertips into Anna’s hand and brought
her to a stop as he turned one ear toward the direction he thought the smoke
was coming from.

Men’s voices. The sounds were faint, but he and Anna would
have to tread carefully until he knew exactly who they were dealing with.

“What is it?” she whispered, her eyes shining at him in the
moonlight.

Attempting to avoid her eyes, Galen made the mistake of
dropping his gaze to her soft, rosy lips. The honeyed taste of her mouth still
lingered in his thoughts, drawing his face down toward hers. His cock
stiffened.

“Damn it,” he hissed, pulling away. If he did not maintain
some semblance of control, he might just lead them straight into an enemy camp.

“You remain here,” he whispered, releasing his hold on her.
“Do you still have my dagger?”

Her cheeks reddened under his stare and she dropped her eyes
to the ground. “It was in my bag.”

Galen exhaled heavily and tilted her chin up. “Then I guess
you will have to figure out how to beat off the enemy with a big stick if you
are attacked.”

He grinned and her mouth curved into a relieved smile. He
couldn’t resist brushing his lips against hers, yet remained careful to not get
lost in her softness.

“Stay low and keep your ears open,” he whispered, pulling
away. “I will come back for you.”

Desperately attempting to keep her chattering teeth under
control, Anna crouched behind a tree and wrapped her arms around her knees. The
memory of Galen’s lips on hers lingered and she absentmindedly brushed her
bottom lip with one finger as a slow ache spread through her again. She sighed.
It would be all too easy to lose herself in the sensations the man stirred
within her, but she was liable to get her heart broken once again if she were
not careful.

A hand settled upon her shoulder and she jumped, yelping in
surprise.

“Easy, lass,” Galen laughed, grabbing her arms to keep her
from falling on her backside. “It is only I.”

She flashed him a shy smile, her flesh tingling beneath his
touch. “Thanks for sneaking up on me.”

“Sneaking?” His eyes widened as his brows raised. “Woman,
your chattering teeth and intermittent sighing must have drowned out my
footsteps. You are lucky my men are camped out there and not some other clan.”

Her lashes flew up, her mood suddenly buoyant, and she
quickly brushed aside her embarrassment at being caught in the middle of
daydreaming about him. “You mean we’re safe?”

“For now.” Galen’s lips thinned as he pressed them together.
“We will need to figure out a way to get you to safety before we go into battle
against the Grahams tomorrow.”

His words settled like a dead weight in her stomach,
tempering her initial relief at reaching safety. Her body stiffened and she
stared at him in disbelief. “You can’t be serious. You’ve escaped. Why don’t
you just go home and be done with it?”

Galen’s eyes widened in astonishment. “A grave insult has
been paid to me and my clan, Anna. I cannot simply ignore it.”

She shook off his grasp, fear twisting her gut. “Why the
hell did I even help you if all you’re going to do is get yourself killed
anyway?”

His jaw twitched and he stared down at her as if trying to
wither her very soul. “Dare you insult me, woman?”

She rolled her eyes. Lord, was the man ever arrogant. “What?
You think you’re Superman or something? Because you’re not. You’re flesh and
blood just like the rest of us.”

The scar on his cheek seemed to darken in the moonlight filtering
through the trees. “Superman?” he repeated. “What the hell are you going on
about?”

She tilted her head back and propped one fist on her hip as
she pointed to his jagged scar. “There. Right there is proof you’re not
untouchable, MacAirth. Who the hell sewed you up anyway? I could have done
better drunk and blindfolded.”

He growled and roughly clasped her hand, pulling her toward
the encampment. “You will have a fire to warm yourself by and a dry place to
sleep tonight. That is all you need to concern yourself with now.”

As Anna attempted to keep up with him without falling flat
on her face, she carefully formulated a retort in her mind, fully prepared to
let him have it once she no longer had to worry about stumbling. What she
planned to say in retaliation for his high-handedness fell by the wayside,
however, once they reached the edge of the encampment.

She shook her head. Was she crazy or had she just walked
onto a movie set out in the middle of nowhere? Dozens of men, all dressed
similarly to Galen and looking just as mean, waited for them in a small
clearing dotted with campfires. The men parted as they approached and Galen
slowed his gait so she could comfortably walk by his side.

Apprehension overwhelmed her as, one by one, the men’s
stares fixated on her. She nervously dropped Galen’s hand. He grumbled
something that carried the intonation of a curse and snatched her hand back,
taking the opportunity to haul her against his side. Stunned, she glanced up at
him, hoping to gain an explanation for his abrupt display of possessiveness,
but he ignored her until he stopped somewhere in the middle of the encampment
and threw his arm around her shoulders, crushing her into his side.

When Galen began speaking to his men, she couldn’t quite
understand him at first. Yet, his speech patterns reminded her of how her
grandparents had spoken Scottish Gaelic to her as a small child. Though it was
more difficult when she visited them at the age of eighteen, she was able to
pick up more of the language thanks to her grandmother’s determination to make
her as fluent as possible before she returned to the States.

Once Anna made the connection, she understood a lot of what
Galen was saying. Though she had missed the first part of his speech, she did
catch his brief description of what had happened and why she was with him,
which elicited grunts of approval from his audience.

Hearing the language again for the first time in over a
decade clouded Anna’s eyes with tears. She brushed them away with the back of
her hand. What would her grandmother say if she could see her now? Galen paused
to look down at her, his eyes laced with concern. She pressed her lips together
in an apologetic smile and he continued speaking to his men.

As soon as Galen stopped, several men, the more seasoned
warriors in his ranks if the number of battles scars each of them sported was
any indication, stepped forward to discuss the particulars of the coming
battle. Galen stood with his arm around Anna’s shoulders as he spoke with them.
Exhaustion crept back into her legs and she attempted to push away from him
several times so she could find somewhere to sit, but he determinedly held her
in place.

She turned her face toward him to interrupt him, but the
dark smudges under his eyes caught her attention. The stubborn man needed
proper food and rest or he would certainly get himself killed in the battle he
was so determined to fight come morning.

She paused for a few moments, desperately trying to recall
the Gaelic she had been taught. The harder she tried, however, the farther the
words seemed to move out of her grasp.

She poked Galen to get his attention.

He ignored her.

Anna sighed in exasperation. “Excuse me,” she said in her
native English. She wriggled out of Galen’s grasp and stepped in front of him.
“I don’t know how many of you can understand me, but your…”

She paused, unable to remember who Galen was to these men.
“What are you again?” she whispered out the side of her mouth.

He clasped his hands behind his back, flashing an amused
smirk. “I am their laird.”

She nodded and turned back to her audience, all of whom
stared at her like she’d just announced her father was the king of England.
“Your laird has barely eaten in two days. If you wish to continue planning the
demise of several dozen Gowries—”

“Grahams,” Galen corrected. “They were the ones holding me
in the dungeon. The Gowries will have to wait until another time.”

“All right, fine. If you want to continue planning the
deaths of several unsuspecting Grahams,” she amended with a roll of her eyes in
Galen’s direction, “you’ll have to do so while your laird is eating. We need
fruit, like apples, plenty of fresh water and some type of meat.”

“Venison,” Galen whispered. “And ale, not water.”

“You’ll drink water,” she snapped. “You’re dehydrated.”