Captured by the Pirate Laird (15 page)

Anne
smoothed her hands over Calum’s hair. “Oh God. Please.”

In
one motion, he pulled her onto the bed and lay beside her. “I want to touch
you.” Tugging up the hem of her shift, he exposed her white skin. Though he
could scarcely see in the dark, the flowery bouquet from her sex made his head spin.
Calum slid his fingers up her thigh. A gasp caught in Anne’s throat. She tensed.

“Open
yer legs for me.”

“Are
you certain?”

“I
will respect ye. I promise.”

Slowly,
she eased her legs apart. With a feathery touch, he slid his hand into the hot
moist core of her womanhood. She was so wet, he could slip into her in one
thrust. His cock throbbed, pressing her hip.

Anne
tensed again and tried to sit up but Calum coaxed her back down. “Relax and let
me show ye pleasure.”

“Yes.”

Anne
eased against the pillows and he swirled his finger around the tiny nub just
above her opening. Yielding to his touch, she rocked her hips. Her moans drove
his pulse and passion to thrum faster. Calum rubbed his erection against her
hip, teetering on the edge of losing control. He slid his finger inside her,
and she clamped tight around him. A bit of seed leaked from his cock. If he
could only enter her, claim her for his own. But he wanted to show her
pleasure, wanted her to know what it was like to come. He worked his finger faster,
slipping it over and around her sex until Anne arched her back and cried out, clutching
him and panting. Kissing her hair, Calum held her to his chest until her
breathing eased.

“W-what
was that?”

“’Twas
only a sampling of what could be between a man and a woman.”

Anne
kissed him and brushed her hand over his sex. “You said a woman can pleasure a
man.”

Calum’s
cock throbbed. “Aye. But I wouldna expect a lady to lower herself.”

“I
want to.” Anne pushed up onto her elbow. “Will you show me?”

He
guided her hand under his kilt and wrapped her fingers around his shaft.
Holding his hand over hers, Calum showed her how to stroke it. “No’ too fast,
but steady.”

“I
wish I could see it, but ’tis too dark.”

Anne
milked him with her soft touch, and he drew her mouth to his. Calum pushed into
her hold, hips bucking faster. Anne instinctively sped her stroke. He could
only think of her core, that hot opening which had yielded to his touch. His
mind lost control as she worked him. With one final thrust, he roared, “Anne!” He
spilled his seed, his cock pulsing over and over again until they both fell
back against the pillows.

Calum
pressed his lips against her forehead. “Ye are the fairest lass in all the Earth.”
But only mine this night.

After
a languid kiss, Anne curled up beside him and fell asleep in his arms. He
watched her peaceful countenance in the moonlight. Never before had he seen a
woman so beautiful. Never before had he wanted a woman so much that the need
consumed him. Calum brushed a lock of hair from her face.

He
must take Anne to her husband soon, else they’d be damned forever.

***

Lord
Wharton studied the map of Scotland strewn atop his parlor table. Master Denton
hovered across from him, his arms folded. “Fortescue said they wore red and
black plaid.”

“Large
checks or small?”

“He
didn’t say.”

Wharton
looked at his beady-eyed henchman, and the scrambled eggs from his breakfast
roiled in his gut. “He didn’t say or you didn’t ask?”

“Oh
I asked—right before I sliced off the tip of his finger.”

“And?”

Denton
studied his gnawed fingernails. “I honestly believe he did not know.”

“Stupid
Londoner. Doesn’t know a Stewart from a MacGregor, I’d wager.” Thomas studied
the map. “Where does that leave us?”

“My
guess is they’re from the Hebrides. In London, I learned MacNeil is making a
name for himself pillaging English ships. Word has it his lair is on the Isle
of Barra.”

Wharton
slid his finger across the map and found it, a small island in the Outer
Hebrides. He reached for his cup of peppermint tea. “Out of the way, is it
not?”

“And
well-fortified I’ve heard.”

“Bastards,”
Wharton growled under his breath. “Are you certain it’s them?”

Denton
shook his mop of straight black hair. “No. Lawlessness permeates the Hebrides. Their
allegiance is to the clans. They scarcely recognize the throne of Scotland and
despise
England.”

“I
can raise an army, but to fight a war on the sea…” He drummed his fingers on
the table. “I would need to appeal to Her Majesty.”

“That
woman
?”

Wharton
frowned. Denton was right. It would take a year or more of petitioning before
Her Majesty would grant him warships to find his wife—if she ever did. War with
the Spaniards was eminent. He could possibly seek Northumberland’s assistance.

“Exactly
what did the missive say?” Denton asked.

Gritting
his teeth, Thomas snatched it from his ornately carved mahogany desk and read
aloud. “At dusk on the seventeenth of May, launch a thousand pounds in an
unmanned skiff at the mouth of the Firth of Solway. Do not follow the skiff. Do
not hide in the skiff. After payment is received, Lady Anne will be found
outside the citadel of Carlisle. If payment is not received in full, the lady
will be executed.”

Wharton
slammed his fist on the desk and drew his sword. “I will gut the miserable
bastard and destroy his clan.” He pointed the blade at Denton’s heart. “I will
have my vengeance.”

Denton
waited for him to sheathe his sword before he reached for the missive. “’Tis
not signed.”

“Motherless
tit-sucking swine.”

“We
must formulate a plan.”

Denton
always had to be the voice of reason. Wharton didn’t care to be reasonable
right now. “I won’t let them steal away with a thousand of
my
pounds. They can eat my shite. Her dowry wasn’t even half that.”

Denton
tossed the missive on the desk. “What is worth more, the money or the baroness?”

“You
over step your station.” Wharton pursed his lips. “They will not murder my
wife. We will sail the skiff as they request and once Lady Anne is in our
grasp, we will hunt them down like the savages they are. They may have my coin
in their hands for a time, but it will not make it to their coffers.”

Denton
grinned, his yellow teeth making his appearance even less formidable. “We
should be able to slip over to Maryport to hire a ship, if need be.”

“Yes,
and raise an army. I’m sure there are still loyal men from my days as sheriff.
We shall leave on the morrow. I’ll need rooms there and a physician to examine…”
Wharton stopped himself. It was no concern of Denton’s that he planned to have
Anne examined before taking her to his marriage bed. He didn’t trust the rutting
Scots, and if they had touched her, it would be a greater disgrace to his name
than he could bear.

“With
some planning we should be able to capture them outside the citadel.”

“My
thought exactly.” Thomas plodded to the hearth and snatched up a piece of coal
with cast iron tongs. “I will see them all hanged, drawn and quartered.”

“We
shall line the bailey of Carlisle with their heads.”

“No.”
Wharton pointed at Denton’s sternum. “We will ship their heads back to their
mothers and wives and show those bloody Scots who is the superior race.”

Calum
rose early and met John and Norman in the solar behind closed doors. “I was
worried ye wouldn’t return in time, John. The missive instructed Wharton to
launch the ransom in an unmanned skiff in the Firth of Solway on the
seventeenth of May.”

“The
seventeenth? Are we sailing, then?” John asked.

“Nay,
we’ll ride.”

Norman
leaned in. “Ride all the way to Carlisle with a woman in tow?”

“Aye,
a proper English lass at that. She’ll no’ last a day,” John added with a shake
of his head.

Calum
sliced his hands through the air. “Hear me out afore ye start yer bellowing.”
He eyed the two men. “We’ll ride to Carlisle with Lady Anne. It should take a
fortnight, give or take. Norman, ye’ll set sail in the
Sea Dragon
a week after we leave and moor in the north cove of the
Firth of Solway—ye ken the place.”

Norman
nodded. “Aye.”

“Once
we recover the skiff, I’ll have Bran head to the cove with the ransom. I’ll
take Lady Anne to the citadel. With some luck, she’ll cooperate and I’ll be out
of there by the time Wharton and his men realize it’s her.”

John
scratched his chin. “Ye dunna think the baron will recognize her?”

“Nay.”
Calum grinned. “I’ll dress her in trews and tie her hair under a bonnet.”

“Ye
best ensure the cap’s no’ made of Raasay plaid,” Norman said.

“I’ve
asked Betha to fashion me one of grey wool.”

John
looked worried behind his dark eyes. “Ye think the lady will betray us?”

Calum
sucked in a ragged breath. His actions from last eve had not been carried out
with a mind to coax her into going along with his scheme. This whole business
had torn his insides to shreds. The only positive thing about it was it would
soon be done. Hell, if Anne stayed at Brochel any longer, he’d betray his
honor—he nearly had already. “Nay.”

Norman
shot John a sideways glance. “She won’t. She’s grown a fondness for our laird
whilst ye’ve been away.”

John
sat back and folded his arms. “Good. ’Twill help aid our escape if she doesna
start screaming outside the citadel of Carlisle.”

Calum
pushed away from the table and stood. “Now I’ve got to go tell her we cannot
take all those blasted trunks with us.”

The
two men exchanged frowns and Calum lowered his voice. “I’ll no’ tell her about
the
Sea Dragon
. ’Tis best she doesn’t
ken our plans to return to Raasay.”

“And
what about after?” Norman asked. “Wharton will come hunting us with guns
blazing.”

“Aye,
’tis another reason why I want to sail home. We’ll need to prepare for battle
by land or by sea.”

Calum
strode out of the solar and headed up the winding stairs to Anne’s chamber.
“Lady Anne?” He rapped on the door. “Are ye within?”

“A
moment.”

After
an inordinate amount of rustling, she opened the door, smiling with those
dimples that made his heart pound against his chest. She dropped into his arms,
and Calum’s resolve turned to butter. If he could only pick her up and take her
to bed—but last night had been a mistake. He never should have been so forward.
It made what he had to do all the more difficult.

Squeezing
his eyes shut, Calum kissed her forehead then held her at arm’s length. “We
need to speak.”

From
the crease on her brow, she knew why he was there. She gestured toward the
table.

Calum’s
stomach turned over—twice—and he took the seat opposite her. It had all seemed so
easy when he’d left the solar—walk up to her and tell her they were leaving on
the morrow. Now, staring into those fathomless pools of Icelandic water, his mouth
went dry. If only she had not married the bastard. “Och, damn it all.”

Her
arms folded. “I beg your pardon?”

“We
should not have—I should not have…” Calum bent his head and spread his palms to
his sides. “We must leave on the morrow. Yer letter of ransom has been answered,
and I must take ye to Carlisle.”

Anne
frowned. “Carlisle? But Lord Wharton is in Alnwick.”

“The
terms are the baron will meet ye there.” Calum couldn’t look at her face. He glanced
to the five trunks lining the wall. “We’ll be on horseback and cannot take yer
things. Pack a satchel with yer keepsakes. I’ll see yer trunks delivered to
Alnwick when things settle.”

Anne
covered her face with her hands as if pressing away tears. “What of Swan? His
training has only begun.”

He’d
just told her they were going back to England, and she was worried about a
damned bird? “Bran will look after the eagle. We cannot tow a squawking
fledgling with us.” Calum cringed. He sounded far less sympathetic than he had
intended, but the eagle could not make this trip. Not with so much at stake.

He
stole a peek at Anne. She stared at her hands, folded tight in her lap. Her
knuckles blanched white. “So that’s it, then?”

His
heart told him to kneel before her and beg her not to leave. She could seek an
annulment, falsify her death, anything so she could stay at Brochel. But she
was a lady, born into nobility. She was too refined for a life on frigid island
in the north of Scotland. She deserved the comfortable life of a Baroness,
planning fetes and luncheons, fretting over the penmanship on her invitations. Besides,
the longer she remained at Brochel, the more dangerous it was for his entire
clan.

“’Tis
time to join yer husband.” His voice sounded strange to his own ears, the words
constricted in his throat. He could not tell her how he felt. It would only
make things worse.

***

Anne
hid her emotions behind a stoic façade and listened to the news. She waited
until Calum walked out of her chamber and closed the door. A tear slipped from
the corner of her eye and trickled down her cheek. Pulling a kerchief from her
dressing gown pocket, she held it to her eyes.

That
sickly, hollow feeling came over her as it had the first day on the
Flying Swan
. Last night had been a
delusion—she had allowed him to take advantage. Her feelings of belonging had
been the musings of a lonely woman who would be an old maid if it weren’t for a
baron who had spied her from across Westminster Abbey. How foolish she’d been to
allow herself feelings for Calum MacLeod, pirate laird of Raasay. His rugged
good looks and charming manner had captivated her and betrayed her heart.

Anne
doubled over and wailed into her kerchief. Her
fantasy
was over. Now she must leave her things behind—and Swan.
The bird had become her tie to Raasay, he brought her hope, gave her a piece of
something of which she so desperately wanted to be a part. What could she pack
in a satchel? Her head still throbbing, she threw herself on the bed and wept
into the pillow. She didn’t care who heard.

Mara’s
voice chimed from the passageway. “Milady?”

“Go
away.”

“But
I have a parcel for you.”

Anne
wiped her tears and opened the door. “You do realize I have no room for a
parcel of any sorts.”

Mara
held up a bundle of clothing and stepped inside. “Trews, a shirt and boots to
make the journey more comfortable, milady.”

“Whose
idea was that?”

“Calum’s”

“He
must be daft.” Anne held up the trousers. “Have you ever heard of sumptuary
laws decreed by King Henry VIII?”

“Och,
no milady.”

“If
I’m seen in England wearing men’s clothing, I could be thrown into prison or
worse.”

Mara
pushed inside, the door closing behind her. “That makes no sense at all.”

“Tell
that to the magistrate. The laws were enacted to keep the different classes
separate, and distinguish men from women, no doubt. Dress as a man? ’Tis
absurd.” Anne massaged her temples and closed her eyes. “Besides, I’m only
allowed a satchel, and I must have a gown when I meet my h-h…” she couldn’t say
it. “Lord Wharton.”

Mara
took back the trews and set the clothing on the table. “Tell you what. I think
ye should wear the trews under yer skirts. ’Twill stop the chafing from the
saddle and will be warmer when yer sleeping on the trail—and ye’ll need the
boots, regardless. Ye cannot ride a pack horse in satin slippers.”

Anne
pursed her lips. Mara’s argument had merit. She could wear a day dress over
those wretched man-trousers, and roll up one of her finer gowns for her satchel.
Anne walked over and unclasped a trunk. She rifled to the bottom and pulled out
a brown, linen gown with an embroidered square-necked bodice. She used the
dress for falconry. On the top lay one of her favorite gowns, a red silk she
only wore during fine weather. But summer months approached. Surely, Calum
would ship her things before winter.

“Can
I help ye, milady?” Mara asked.

Anne’s
eyes shot to the smaller trunk, which held her most precious keepsakes.

“I
understand if ye dunna want me here,” Mara offered.

Anne
studied the kind face that reflected so much concern. In the short time the she
had been at Brochel Castle, Mara had become as dear to her as Hanna. Anne tried
to smile. “Stay. You can help lift my spirits.”

Anne
pulled out a satchel from the small trunk. When she opened it, she also pulled
out her box of keepsakes and set it on the table.

Mara
ran her finger over the woodwork inlaid with ivory. “’Tis beautiful. I’ve never
seen anything like it.”

“My
mother gave it to me on my sixteenth birthday. I’ve always kept my cherished
possessions in it.” Anne opened the lid, and Mara gasped. She didn’t have a lot
of jewels, but the ruby necklace alone was enough to cause a stir. A golden
locket with a small portrait of her father, a pearl ring, and a dozen or so
necklaces glinted within the box. All had been purchased to match her gowns.
They were beautiful, but not inordinately expensive. Anne put the jewels into a
leather pouch and removed the false bottom of the box.

Mara
leaned closer. “Look at the fine green velvet inside. What else do ye have in
there?”

Anne
pulled out the marriage decree and held it up. “Just this.” She unfolded it and
remembered Mara couldn’t read. “’Tis proof of my marriage to Lord Wharton. I may
need it if he doesn’t recognize me.”

Mara
laughed. “I’ll bet he’d recognize ye from a hundred paces. Ye are too bonny to
forget.”

“You
cannot mean that.” Mara had a knack for lightening her heart. Anne refolded the
document and slipped it into the pouch. She tossed her shillings on top and
tied it closed. It would be the first thing in her satchel to ensure she
wouldn’t lose it.

Mara
helped her roll the red gown carefully to avoid wrinkling it, though silk was
prone to creases. “Whatever will become of all yer fine things?”

“Calum
said he would ship them to me later, though I can’t help but fear I’ll never
see them again.”

“If
Laird Calum MacLeod makes a promise, he’ll see it kept. On that ye have me
word.”

“But
what if…” Anne busied herself with folding a spare shift.

“What
if?”

“What
if the baron chases after him? What if he has an army waiting in Carlisle? What
if he…Calum is killed?”

Mara
placed her hand on Anne’s shoulder. “There, there, ye cannot be letting
thoughts of doom cloud yer mind. Ye’ll drive yerself mad afore ye get there.” Mara
led her to the chair and massaged Anne’s shoulders. “I always say when ye have
a choice between a good thought and a bad, pick the good. What use is the bad?
It only serves to make ye feel worse.”

Anne
leaned into Mara’s magic hands and closed her eyes. “I wish it were that easy.”

Mara
twirled around her. “It is, milady. It is.”

Anne
reached for her keepsake box and held it out. “Since I cannot take this with
me, I’d like you to have it.”

“Me?
Och no, I couldna accept. It looks awful expensive and ’twas a present from yer
ma.”

Anne
pushed the box into Mara’s hands. “It is mine to give. You have shown me
kindness when there was no motivation for you to do so. Take it and remember
me.”

“Oh,
milady, ye are too kind. And to look at you. Ye are the one who helped me organize
the keep. There’s plenty here to remember ye by.”

Anne
smiled. “Good. That’s how I want it.”