Captured by the Pirate Laird (13 page)

Mara
looked up from her work at the wreath then scurried over to him. “The wood’s
dry, ready for the bonfire. The fish are cleaned and soaking in the hold, m’laird.”
She pointed to the net off the shore used to keep the seafood fresh.

Calum
patted her shoulder. “Excellent. Ye have everything organized.”

“Lady
Anne has taught me well.”

“Then
it has been a blessing to have her with us.”

“I
miss John so terribly.” Mara frowned. “But I dunna want her to leave us. She is
such a fine lady and a pleasure to be around. I never thought an English woman
could be as sweet as she.”

“We
will all miss her, I’m afraid.”

Calum
looked up the hill. With the day’s work done, the clan men and women were
clamoring down to the beach. Bran had hold of Lady Anne’s hand, hurrying her
along as if they were late for a wedding. Friar Pat scuttled down the hill
after them with his robes flapping in the wind. Calum and Mara chuckled and
moved to greet them.

Calum
reached for Anne’s hand. She blessed him with a brilliant smile. “Bran, ’tis a
wonder the lady made it down the hill in one piece with ye dragging her. Did ye
no’ remember she’s recovering from a twisted ankle?”

The
boy gaped and looked at Anne. “Are ye all right milady? I didna mean to rush ye.”

“I’m
quite invigorated. This must be a special celebration indeed.”

The
friar waddled in beside them. “Aye. Beltane used to be a pagan tradition, but
we Scottish Christians have embraced it as the celebration of rebirth.” He
clasped his hands together and looked toward the heavens. “Praise God, winter
is behind us.”

Calum
gestured to the crowd gathering around the fire. “Come milady. I would be
honored if ye would stand beside me as I light the fire to commence the
festival.”

“Aye,
’tis nearly dusk,” Mara said.

***

Anne’s
insides fluttered when Calum strode across the stony beach to meet her. Dressed
in his finest kilt and doublet, his powerful frame made all the lords at court
pale in comparison. She closed her eyes and cemented the memory in her mind.
She never wanted to forget her gallant captor or her time on Raasay.

Anne
allowed Calum pull her toward the enormous pile of wood and sticks as the clan
watched. He struck the flint to light the torch, but the wind from the sound
snuffed it before the flame took hold. Anne cupped her hands around the
ironwork. “Try again.”

Calum
struck again and the torch burned bright. He gave her a wink and held it high.
“With this flame I light the Beltane fire. May God favor us and make our women
and our crops fertile. With this flame we will relight the fires of Brochel!”

The
crowd roared a raucous cheer. Calum circled the stack of wood, lighting the
kindling around the bottom.

Bagpipes
and fiddling filled the air, while children chased each other around the
maypole. Calum placed his hand in the small of Anne’s back. “We let the wee
ones dance first. The real dancing starts after we sup.”

She
loved the way his eyes sparkled, reflecting firelight. “Oh? That sounds
intriguing.”

“It
is.” Calum spread his tartan over the smooth stones. “Will ye share me plaid?”

Warmed
by the raging fire, Anne sat beside him. “Tell me more about Beltane. The friar
said it has pagan roots.”

“Aye.
’Twas the most important ritual to our ancestors. It honored the sun god, and
if he was pleased there would be a bountiful harvest. When the fire burns down,
unmarried couples seal a promise by jumping over the coals together.” He looked
away and fingered the fringe of his plaid.

“Pardon?”

“They
say on Beltane all marital restraints were lifted and women could lay with
whomever they wished for the night.”

The
flesh on Anne’s entire body prickled with heat. Did she just hear him
correctly? “I’ll wager that caused a great many problems.”

Calum
picked up a smooth stone and rubbed his thumb across it. “I’m sure it did. ’Tis
why it is only a legend.” He looked at her with a crooked smile. “If me wife
ever lay with anyone but me, I think I would kill her, and the rutting bastard
too.”

Anne
cleared her throat. “Well, ’tis a good thing the Scots have done away with that
practice.”

Norman
strolled over carrying three tankards of ale. “What do ye think of Beltane,
Lady Anne?”

She
accepted the tankard, but scooted a tad closer to Calum, eyeing Norman with
uncertainty. “’Tis a merry festival indeed.”

Norman
looked at her for a moment, his expression puzzling, but then he bowed and sat
on the opposite side of Calum. “I think it is time for me to take a wife.”

Anne’s
attention piqued.

“Have
ye someone in mind?” Calum asked.

“Nay.
I would like leave to visit Ruairi on Lewis.”

Calum
narrowed his eyes. “Ye think you can behave yerself? I’ll never live it down if
ye sail over there and fall into yer cups.”

Norman
hung his head. “Ye ken. As I said before, sleeping on
The Golden Sun
has given me time to think.” He held up his tankard.
“From now on, ale will be the strongest spirit that passes me lips.”

“Very
well. After John returns, we will make arrangements.”

Anne
watched Calum swirl his fingertips over the rounded stones. They would see John
any day now. She closed her eyes, but the bonfire still blazed behind her lids.
She wanted to imagine what her new life would be like, but all she could see were
the rugged lands of Raasay and the stone walls of Brochel Castle with its
handsome laird presiding in the courtyard. The vibrant laird who had just told
her on this single eve in ancient Scotland, the laws of matrimony could be cast
aside. From the depths of her soul, Anne wished it could be so….but alas…

What
would the baron do when he received word of Anne’s ransom? Would he pay? Would
he pursue Calum ruthlessly until he and his entire clan were wiped from the
island? Would Lord Wharton accept her now she’d spent weeks among the “barbarians”?

Calum
didn’t give Anne much time to mull over her unanswered questions. He jumped up as
the games began. “I must toss the caber.”

“And
what is that, do tell?” Anne asked, standing as well.

“Tis
a one-hundred-fifty pound log, or there abouts. The man who tosses it the farthest
wins.”

She
chuckled. “You mean tosses it without squashing himself?”

“Aye,
well there’s that, too.”

She
clapped a hand to her chest. “Don’t tell me men have been killed?”

“I’ve
only seen it once, when I was a lad.” He shook his head. “’Twas a very poor
harvest that year.”

Anne
glanced at the friar who’d moved in beside her. “They take this festival
seriously, yes?”

“Aye,
milady, they do.” He pulled her into the crowd. “Come stand here with me where
ye’ll be out of harm’s way.”

Anne
thought Calum would birth a calf, he bellowed so loudly when he tossed the log.
It looked to be as long as one of the rafters in the keep—as big around, too.

As
he predicted, Calum won the caber toss and the stone throw. His team also won
the tug-o-war, but he was bested by William in the test for the swiftest.
William had long, slender legs, and ran like he was fleeing a mob of archers
bent on skewering him.

“He’s
very fast,” Anne said, applauding the victor.

“He’s
Calum’s runner in battle. None faster than William,” the friar agreed.

Anne
gaped when the women stepped up and had a go with the bow and arrows. Though
Calum won that contest, too, she had never seen women included in any sort of
competitions. They were quite adept.
Must
have had practice at some time
.

As
the games ended, Mara stood on the driftwood and clanged the supper bell. The
feast laid out rivaled some Anne had seen at court, at least for the sheer quantity
of food.

“It
all comes from the Sound of Raasay,” Calum said, stepping behind her.

“I
thought you told me your people were starving.”

“We
eat well in late spring when the fish are running. Winter’s the worst—and
pickled herring gets awfully dreary by February.”

Anne
reclined against a large log of driftwood and watched. People sat in groups,
some large with children and grandparents, and others small. The beat of
excitement touched everyone. The snow had gone, and the promise of warmer
weather swirled on the breeze. With Calum stretched out beside her, she felt
like she belonged. Of course, she’d had her home at Titchfield House, and
belonged to the Wriothesley family by birth, but never had she experienced a
bond as strong as the one that wrapped around her this night.

The
pipers started again and she wanted to dance. Calum must have sensed her
eagerness and reached for her hand. “Will ye dance the maypole with me?”

“Yes,
my lord.”

Calum
flashed a toothy, wicked grin and led her toward the ring of dancers. He leaned
in and whispered in her ear, “The pole signifies male forces and the wreath
beneath is female. The men dance the reel after the women. When the music ends,
they choose if they want to be caught—’tis the lassie’s choice.”

Anne
hesitated. Would he tempt her? God, she hoped so. Anne shook her head, queen’s
knees, she must hope
not
. Since her
injury, she had lasted this long fighting her urges to wrap her arms around his
masculine shoulders and kiss him. She would turn to jelly if he kissed her
again. She knew it, and what would old Lord Wharton think if he discovered she
had lusted after her captor?

The
high-stepping reel interrupted Anne’s worries. She looked to the side and saw
Mara sitting with Friar Pat. They both watched her. Anne gulped and studied the
feet of the other dancers. She moved hers in kind, jumping in the air, pointing
her toes and leaping sideways around the pole of masculinity.

Calum
danced directly across the circle with the men. He focused on her, dancing with
grace, unlike the bearish force he’d shown earlier in the games. His eyes did
not stray from her. Anne’s breathing quickened. His powerful legs expertly
executed the steps, and Anne was glad her skirts covered her wayward feet. She
merely had to keep up with the beat bellowed by the bagpipes. Calum turned his
back to her and leapt high. His kilt flicked up. Anne blinked. She couldn’t
deny it, she’d seen the white alabaster of a rock-solid bum cheek. Her heart
thundered in her ears. She could no longer hear the music.

In
her mind only she and Calum existed, dancing together on the beach. His kilt
flicked again, enticing her to see more of what lay beneath. His eyes seduced
her, begging Anne to give in to her curiosity.

The
pace changed and the woman next to her lightly tapped Anne’s shoulder. “We
dance to the right now.”

Anne
followed the crowd, the tune of the pipes resounding in her ears. The men leapt
forward, mixing with the women. Calum’s masculine scent—spicy, laced with
sweat—electrified her and his hot breath caressed her neck. This was the most
seductive dance in which she had ever partaken. When his hands grasped her
waist, shivers coursed over her skin. “Ye can run from me now, lass.”

Anne’s
head spun. Run? She didn’t want to run, she wanted to turn and press her body
against him. “I…”

She
tried to pull away, but her heart would not allow it. With a snap of her head,
she whipped around and faced him. With the most stirring grin she’d ever seen
cross his face, Calum lifted her in his arms and twirled around the maypole.
Together they spun in complete union. Anne threw her head back and closed her
eyes. If only she could stay there in his arms the entire night. If she had not
been wearing layers of heavy skirts, she would have wrapped her legs around him
and cradled his head to her breast.

The
music stopped. Calum’s chest heaved as he squeezed her against his body, gazing
into her eyes with a longing that made her feel as if she were the only woman
on the beach. His eyes filled with hunger, suggesting he wanted to kiss her and
more. Anne’s breath stuttered, her body molded against his. His tongue shot out
and wet his bottom lip. He slid her down his muscular chest. And then she felt
it. Her mons slowly slid over his rigid manhood. A hot gush of longing coiled
tight between her hips.

Calum
lowered his head as if he would kiss her. But he leaned down to her ear, his
breath fluttering through her hair. “Mayhap we should make our way back to the
plaid.”

Anne
didn’t trust herself to speak. She froze when her bottom brushed against his
manhood. He let out an audible groan. The crowd applauded as Calum looped his
arm through Anne’s elbow and led her to his blanket.

Fanning
her face, Anne willed her heart to resume a more sedate cadence. “That was far
more vigorous than a volta.”

“Aye,
milady. I think we’d best remain spectators for the duration of the night.”

A
pang of disappointment needled at her, but she knew Calum was right. Neither
one of them could control their urges.