Captured by the Pirate Laird (8 page)

Anne
looked at his brown habit and bit her bottom lip. “I hope I won’t go to hell
over this.”

“And
why would ye say that?”

“I’m
helping the enemy manage their stolen wares.”

“First
of all, we’re no’ the enemy.” He grasped her shoulders. “And secondly, these
people are starvin’. Aye, Calum may have taken the
Flying Swan
, but he did it for a good cause.”

“Men
were killed.”

“He
tries to spare as many lives as possible, but this is war. Do ye ken what the
English have done to our lands? Do ye ken about the embargoes?” The friar
dropped his hands and shook his head. “They left us with nay other choice.”

Anne
wanted to believe him, but sighed. She was definitely going to hell. “Will you
bless me, Father?” After all, her family had secretly remained Catholic. At
least she needn’t hide it on Raasay.

“Aye,
child.” He placed his hand on Anne’s head and made the sign of the cross,
reciting Latin prayers.

By
supper, Anne and Mara had organized a cleaning schedule and had assigned all
women to specific tasks. Mara’s face glowed with amazement at how much easier
it would be for each person to have their own area of responsibility. No one
would be overburdened, and if things went as planned, Mara would have idle time
in the afternoon.

Anne
sat beside Mara at the kitchen table, enjoying a cup of warm milk. Mara bit her
bottom lip. “I’m a bit worried on how to go about telling everyone about it.”

“I
think you should do it at the evening meal—have Calum announce it. You’ll have
far more cooperation if he shows his support.”

***

When
the bell rang for supper, Anne stood along the wall and watched the clan pour
into the hall. She gazed past the door, searching for Calum. Norman sauntered
past, his shoulder brushing Anne’s. “He’ll nay be coming.”

“Oh?”
Anne lifted her chin, giving him her best show of indifference.

“He
sent a message with Robert saying the ship needed his undivided attention for a
few days.” Norman grasped her elbow. “Let me escort ye to the table.”

Prickles
of warning fired across Anne’s skin. The hold Norman had on her arm was none
too gentle and he reeked of whisky. She pulled back, but he held fast.

“’Tis
no proper way for a married woman to act, flaunting herself so.”

Anne
jerked her arm away. “Pardon me? I have done nothing of the sort.”

“I
saw the way he ogled ye while you gaily danced away last eve.” He stopped and
faced her. “Have ye forgotten you’re a hostage?”

“The
fact has not left my mind for one minute.”

“If
it were up to me, ye’d be locked in the tower, just as the English do to our
kin when they’re captured.” He leaned close and inhaled. “Ye should smell like
shite, yet ye’ve been treated like some sort of highborn lassie, sleeping in
the laird’s chamber, traipsing around the keep in all yer finery like the
damnable Queen of England.”

“If
my presence in the hall offends you, then I shall happily retire from your
sight.”

Anne
didn’t wait for his reply. Clamping her hand over her mouth, she raced from the
hall. Mara called after her, but Anne continued up the stairs. She was Calum’s
guest and the wife of one of his bitter enemies. Is that why he was staying
away? Was he hiding from her?

Anne
returned to her chamber and locked the door. She wrung her hands. Blast Calum
for kissing her. He had taken advantage of her weakness and her inexperience.

For
a moment, she paced her room, hands clenched tight. Tears stung the back of her
eyes, welled hot and salty. She threw herself onto the bed, and beat a fist
into a pillow. With every hit, she muttered, “The sooner I am gone from this
place…the better!”

Anger
surged hot, and ebbed, leaving her limp as a doll. Pushing her face into the
pillow, she gave into the tears, her shoulders shuddering as she wept.

Calum
stood on the deck of
The Golden Sun
and watched the lights of Brochel Castle burn brighter while the sunlight
faded. His belly growled, complaining about his meal of bully beef and whisky.
His stomach never gave him trouble at sea, but somehow it knew when he was
home.

Anne
would have eaten by now. He pictured her in the exquisite blue dress she’d worn
the eve before. With all those trunks, she surely had a plethora of enticing
gowns, but he’d be content if she wore the blue one every night He loved the
way it hugged her womanly shape, and could watch her dance in that gown until
the day when the stars lost their sparkle.

He
groaned and looked at the vast, twinkling sky above. He’d banished himself to
the ship for a reason. Visualizing a maid—no, a
matron
in lavish gowns—and wanting to run his lips over every inch
of her exposed flesh, was exactly what he needed to block from his mind.

But
he couldn’t, unless he could find a way to avoid blinking or closing his eyes.
He very well might be damned to the fires of hell the next time he got her
alone. Oh how deeply he desired to cast his duty aside and show her the
delights of passion. And Anne wanted it. He read it in the way her blush
crawled up her face, and the longing reflected in her eyes. God, it would be
sweet to guide her to a fervent passion. Calum closed his eyes and reached out
his hand as if he could brush his fingers across the pliable flesh above her
bodice.

A
loud thud banged against the hull. Snapped from his thoughts, Calum’s hackles pricked.
Drawing his sword, he eased to the starboard rail and peered over.

“Ahoy
the ship.”

Only
the white of Bran’s teeth shone in the moonlight. Good thing the lad had said
something. Calum would have cut the rope ladder and given him a good dousing. Sheathing
his sword, he bent down and offered Bran a hand. “What the blazes are ye doing
here?”

“Mara
sent me.”

“What’s
wrong?”
Is Anne ill, did she take a
tumble?

“Norman’s
been in his cups again.” Bran stumbled over the rail. “Had words with Lady
Anne, he did.”

“Och,
for the love of God.” Norman could be an arse the size of Scotland when he dipped
into the whisky—bloody swine. “Tell me lad, what did he say?”

“I
dunna ken, but Lady Anne fled to her chamber without eating supper.”

“Bull’s
ballocks. I cannot turn me head for a minute and Norman shows his beasty side.”

“Aye,
yer brother has never been able to hold his liquor.”

Or keep his cock under his kilt
.
Calum froze. “Where is Norman now?”

“He
had his supper in the hall with everyone else.”

Blast
it all. If Calum hadn’t promised his father he’d teach his younger brother some
refinement, he’d ship Norman back to Lewis where he could annoy Ruairi. Calum hoisted
himself over the rail and skittered down the ladder to the skiff with Bran
right behind.

***

After
sending Mara away, Anne dashed to her trunk and snatched her shillings and
jewels out of her treasure box. What had she been thinking, going along with
Calum’s plan to ransom her? To dally about Brochel Castle, helping them
inventory stolen goods made her no better than a pirate herself.

If
she escaped, Lord Wharton would not be blackmailed into paying a fortune for
her release. Anne counted the silver coins. She certainly had enough to pay
someone for safe passage.

She
thanked the stars Norman had confronted her. It was the kick in the backside
she’d needed to get out of Calum’s chamber and do something about this
miserable state of affairs. Kissing him and then wanting more? She must take
matters into her hands and stop this nonsense.

Besides,
Calum had said he would protect her. Now he’d hid himself on the
Flying Swan
. He might as well be in
France for all the protection he could provide from the ship’s decks.

Anne
waited until the rumbles from the hall silenced. She opened the door a crack
and listened, only the growl of her belly resounded against the stone walls.

Taking
a candle, she pattered down the steps to the first landing. The chamber doors she
could see appeared closed, their occupants tucked in for the night. Her patience
in waiting had been rewarded. She descended the remaining stairs into the great
hall. The embers of a fire dimly gave the immense room a ghostly dancing light.
A chill hung in the air.

Anne
made her way across the floor, careful not to bump into the tables. A light
glowed from the kitchen, suggesting someone might be within. She nearly dropped
her candle when a man’s deep chuckle echoed. Was it Norman? She hesitated. She
needed to gather some food before she launched a skiff, but she wasn’t about to
have another confrontation with Calum’s brother. Anne whipped around and headed
for the double oak doors. A bench caught the hem of her gown and screeched
across the floor.

Behind
her, footsteps clapped on the floorboards. She broke into a run.

She’d
nearly made it to the door, when a voice called out. “Lady Anne?” Friar Pat
leaned against a table, catching his breath. “Whatever are you doing up at this
time of night?”

Stopping,
she blew out a rush of relief. She rubbed her hand against the pouch in her
pocket. “I was feeling a bit hungry. I apologize if I startled you.” She glanced
over his shoulder, toward the dim light shining from the open kitchen door.

As
he approached, Anne could see his cheeks were flushed red. He hiccupped and
covered his mouth. “Pardon me. I’m afraid I may have dipped into the mead a bit
much. I brew me own and I only have use of the kitchen well past supper.”

Anne
rubbed her arms. “The keep takes on a chill at night.”

“That
it does.” He took another step closer. “And how are ye finding it here amongst
us wayward souls?”

“Everyone
has been quiet pleasant. Mostly.”

The
friar gestured toward the bench. “It seems our laird has taken a liking to ye.”

She
was not going to slip away without a polite chat. “Oh? But he’s sent off a note
of ransom.”

“Aye.
I suppose he has.” The friar ran a hand over his belly. “He wouldn’t have had
much of a choice in the matter given you’re married.”

There
was that “married” word again. How it followed her as if she’d been a baroness
her entire life. Anne shot a hungry glance toward the kitchen and slid onto the
bench across from him. “Our choices in this life are rather limited.”

“But
I see yer presence here as a blessing.”

“You
do? Why?”

“I
watched ye with Mara today and studied yer ledgers when I was taking grain from
the stores for me mead. Mara hasn’t been the matron of the keep for long, ye
ken.”

“She
didn’t tell me.”

“Well,
she probably didna have time. When Calum came here, the keep was in ruins. The
clan members were crofters, paying rent to the Chief of Lewis, living in long
houses and hovels up in the hills. Calum spent seven years rebuilding the keep
and the people love him for it, but like God’s sheep, some work harder than
others. Mara’s ever so busy—takes too much upon herself.”

“I
agree and we’ve come up with a plan to share the work more fairly.”

Friar
Pat reached across and patted her hand. “Ye see what I mean. ’Tis exactly what
the lassie needs.” He stretched his arms out with a yawn. “I’d best find me bed
afore my head drops to the table.”

Anne
bid him goodnight. What a sweet man, and he cared so much for the clan. Calum
was lucky to have him. But she needed to continue with her plan. She inhaled
deeply through her nose and let the air whistle through her lips. Picking up
her candle, she headed to the kitchen.

Inside
the vast room, she found a fire banked in the great hearth. Long wooden tables
stood cleaned and ready for morning. Cast iron pots hung on hooks overhead. Anne
opened a cupboard door and peered inside, hoping to find the breadbox.

A
footstep slapped the stone floor. Expecting the friar, she glanced over her
shoulder with a smile. But her heart flew to her throat.

Norman
.

His
voice came from behind like a rat crawling up her spine. “Why are ye sneaking
about, wench?”

The
sour stench of a man who’d guzzled too much whisky permeated the room. His arm
clutched her waist. He wrenched the candle from her hand and pressed his lips to
her ear. “Ye didna answer me.”

Anne
fought to pull away, but he squeezed her tighter and pressed his unwelcome body
against her. “I’m seeking a bit of bread. I missed supper because of you.”

“Ye
missed supper because of yer own highborn pride.”

Norman
set the candle on the counter. Anne twisted free. He was faster and flung his
arm around her waist, tugging her into his body.

“Release
me!”

“And
why should I? You’re an English wench and a ripe one at that.”

Something
hard rubbed against her buttocks. Turning, she cast her gaze downward. His kilt
tented. Anne’s heart raced with fury.
With a
shot of strength, she pounded her fists against his chest. He tightened his
grip. Swiftly, she cocked back her knee and slammed it into his crotch.

With
a roaring bellow, Norman released her and doubled over. Anne darted for the
door. Norman lurched after her, caught her arm and yanked her back.

“That
was a dirty trick,” he said, his voice strained. “But I’d expect no less from
the likes of an English wench.”

Anne
twisted away, but Norman yanked her back, and struck her face with his open
palm across.

Recoiling
from the sharp sting, Anne stumbled into a bench. She flung out her arms, but
couldn’t stop the momentum and crashed to the ground.

Footsteps
pounded. A tall figure burst into the kitchen.

“Ye
miserable rutting bastard,” Calum roared.

Anne
rolled to her side. Calum leaped through the doorway and launched himself at
Norman. The two brothers careened across the floor, fists flying. Norman
slammed an undercut into Calum’s jaw, but he caught Norman’s arm and twisted.
Calum laid his brother flat on the ground, locking his hand in a death grip
around Norman’s neck.

“Ye’ll
no’ touch her again,” Calum growled.

Anne
sprang up, but the two men blocked the path to the door. She pressed her back
to the wall, searching for an out.

“What
is she to you?” Norman’s voice strained as he choked out the words.

Calum’s
eyes darted toward Anne. “Ye want the English to come and blast Raasay out of
the sea? That’s what they’ll do if ye defile Wharton’s wife.”

Calum
released his grip and Norman slithered out from under him. He stretched his
neck and coughed. “Ye are infatuated with her, ye bloody miserable sop.”

Anne’s
mouth went dry.

“Get
out of me sight. We’ll have words in the morning when you’re no’ blinded by
drink.”

Norman
scrambled to his feet.

Calum
pointed toward the cove. “Take a skiff to
The
Golden Sun
and sleep it off. If ye touch her ladyship again, I’ll kill ye,
brother or no.”

Calum’s
hard, dark glare in the shadowy light told Anne he could do it. Barreling away,
Norman didn’t look back.

Anne
pushed herself into the wall. Calum looked the deadly predator when his gaze
shot to her.

Anne
clenched her fists under her chin. Could she make a run for the door?

The
furrow between Calum’s brows eased and his eyes became human again. “Are ye all
right, milady?”

Gasping,
Anne nodded.

“Apologies,
me brother is such an arse.” He offered his hand. “Ye have me word it will no’
happen again.”

Anne
placed her hand in his and let out a breath. She should have just slipped down to
the beach without attempting to get food.

“You’re
trembling.”

She
tried to still her tremors. “I had nearly overcome him. I slammed my knee into
his…ah…between his legs.”

“Aye?
That was very brave.” Calum grimaced. “Ye could have been hurt.”

“How
did you know he would do this? I thought you were sleeping on the ship.”

“Bran
fetched me.”

“You
said I would be safe here.”

Calum
squeezed her hand. “Forgive me. ’Twas wrong for me to stay away from the keep.”

“Norman
is a bastard.”

“Aye.
He cannot hold his liquor. But I promise, he’ll never touch ye again.”

Anne
pulled her hand away and glanced toward the door. At this moment, Norman headed
to the beach. Drat—she could not hope for an escape this night.

Calum
placed his arm around her shoulders. “Now tell me why ye were wandering through
the hall at this time ’o night.”