The Laird's Daughter (20 page)

Sometime during the night, her shoulders sagged with exhaustion so that she let her head settle on the pillow next to his and gave in to the sleep that claimed her. When she woke, sunlight was streaming through the shuttered slats of the window. With a start, she sat up and found herself gazing into a pair of stormy gray eyes.

“Who are you?” he gasped. There was no sign of recognition in his face.

“I’m Annie,” she answered. “You sent for me.”

He lay back against the pillows, his expression one of puzzlement then he shook his head in denial. “You’re not the Annie I remember.”

Gare entered the room, and Rafe regarded him somberly. When he made no greeting, Gare moved closer.

“You’re awake, Rafe,” he cried exuberantly. “Christ, man, we feared we’d lost you in the night.”

Rafe simply stared at him.

“Don’t you know who I am, lad?” his friend asked. “’Tis me, Gare. And this is Annie, the one you’ve been calling for in all your fevers. She’s the one who saw you fall on the battlefield and led the men to rescue you. Without her, you’d be a rotting corpse by now.”

Rafe’s troubled gaze turned back to her. He studied her for a long moment and she saw a dawning shine in his eyes.

“Annabella,” he whispered, his face flooding with joy. “I’ve found you.”

“Nay, ‘tis Annie, the goose girl,” Gare corrected him.

Rafe’s looked confused. “But you can’t speak.”

“’Twas the shock of seeing you wounded, you great lump,” Gare said jovially. “She was able to tell the guards where to find you.” He smiled at Annie warmly. “She’s a bonnie lassie.”

She saw the moment Rafe made the connection, just as he had before the battle began. He remembered everything now. His gaze captured hers, and she couldn’t look away for the emotions on his face.

“Aye, she’s been a good friend in more ways than I realized,” he said softly.

“I must go,” she said, turning away from him. “You have servants who can care for you now, and I have my own chores to do.”

“Nay, lass.” His voice was soft and ragged, almost pleading. “I want you here with me.”

“I must go tend to the Father’s needs,” she answered, shying away from his compelling gaze.

“Let her go do her duties, Rafe. She’ll come back. In the meantime, I have much to tell you about the battle, Baen and your uncle,” Gare said, but Rafe’s attention was pinned on Annie.

“Will you come back?” he demanded, his eyes dark with emotions she couldn’t discern.

Helpless to deny him, she looked from Gare to the man in the bed. “Aye, I’ll be back, if you want me.” She hurried from the room then, her head averted, running down the stairs past a startled Dianne and Jean and out of the castle.

Silvered dew-sheeted tufts of grass and the morning air smelled of the sweet meadows. The sun rose over the rim of Oban, reflecting off the stone walls of the castle and spilling its golden light over the village like a special blessing. Annie felt her heart lift. Rafe was alive, and he would recover from his wounds. He was a kind-hearted man, and she felt certain he wouldn’t punish the whole village for what Bryce had done. As for Alyce, Annie must find a solution for that. Perhaps she’d send Alyce away.

In the days that followed, Annie went every day to the castle where she personally tended Rafe’s wounds and brought his food from the kitchen. She made no mention of the reason for her diligence, but she observed Gare watching her and knew he hadn’t forgotten that someone had poisoned Rafe. Gare shared her same fears that somehow, someone would succeed in murdering the Campbell warrior.

“You must tell him the truth,” Jean urged her. “He has the right to know who you really are.”

“What difference would it make?” Annie said.

“He loves you,” Jean said disapprovingly. “And you play with his heart.”

“No, but truly, I’m fearful,” Annie replied.

“Of what? That he won’t love you because you’re a MacDougall. He has no grudge against your clan. Rather it’s the other way round. Tell him or I shall.”

“You would betray me?” Annie looked at her friend and found her answer in the intelligent eyes.

“Yes, I would,” Jean said, but Annie knew she wouldn’t.

One day as she sat quietly at Rafe’s bedside, he called her by the name he’d used at the pool.

“Annabella,” he said softly. “Tell me the truth about yourself.”

“You know all about me,” she hedged.

“Jean tells me there is more to your story, and I would hear it.”

“’Tis best left unsaid,” she replied evasively.

“Are you the daughter of Ewan MacDougall?” His eyes held a hard, determined light.

Annie’s head jerked up and disappointment coursed through her. “Jean told you, then?”

Rafe shook his head. “Lying here in this blasted room, I’ve had a lot of time to think, and it’s the only thing that makes sense. Why did you pretend to be a goose girl and live the way you did?”

“Father Cowan, who was and is a priest, thought it safest for me. The Campbells were wild with blood thirst, even Archibald. I saw him kill my father and behead him.”

Rafe cursed and pulled her onto the bed beside him. His arms closed around her protectively. At first, she held herself stiffly, then the warmth of him, the familiar exciting smell of him got through her defenses, and she sank against him.

“Never again will you be hurt or humiliated,” he whispered. His mouth claimed hers in a kiss that was protective and possessive. “You belong to me. You’ll be my wife and no one will ever do you harm.”

“I don’t want you to marry me out of pity,” she protested. “Besides, I fear what repercussions might occur if I were to wed you. Look what Bryce and A—” She clamped her lips together. She’d almost spoken the midwife’s name.

“I know who tried to poison me,” he said, looking at her.

“But how?”

“I told you. I’ve had days to think this through. I’ve sent the woman to a position with MacIntyre. She’ll have no reason to do mischief there.” He smiled at Annie with some little show of pride that he’d handled things so well.

“I’ve also sent out word that there’s to be a wedding and that I’m to marry Lady Anna MacDougall. My uncle’s will shows he left me this castle and lands for services rendered and because he had no other legal heirs. What do you think of that?”

“If Dunollie’s to stay in Campbell hands, I’m glad it’s you,” she said. “But I can’t marry you.”

“Aye, you will. There’s no pity in this arrangement, Annie, love. I desire you for my bride. Dunollie will be restored into the hands of the MacDougalls and our sons will inherit it. A rightful enough inheritance wouldn’t you say?”

Annie gazed at him and suddenly felt her eyes tingle as tears rolled down her cheeks.

“Why, Annie, I’ve never seen you cry before.”

“I never do,” she replied, half-laughing as she wiped at the tears that wouldn’t stop flowing. “Is it really true, all that you’ve said? Can it be that simple?”

“Annie.” He breathed her name and pulled her against him.

His kisses were warm and soothing at first then quickly turned more passionate. Annie felt a fire flare within her as she returned his passion. He rained kisses over her cheeks and throat and back to her mouth, and all the time, his clever hands unfastened her clothing. He allowed her to sit only long enough to pull her shift over her head.

“We can’t,” she protested. “You’re not recovered enough.”

“I am,” he said simply with an air not to be argued with.

Suddenly the door swung open, and Gare entered with Dianne close behind.

“Have you heard—”

“Get the blazes out of here,” Rafe shouted.

Gare paused then chuckled as he took in the scene. Dianne let out a yelp of dismay.

“Come, m’lady,” Gare said. “We aren’t needed here now.” The door closed firmly behind them.

“Now, where were we?” Rafe said, reaching for her again.

He ran his hands over her bare breasts while he kissed her until she was breathless, then lowered his head to kiss her breasts. Annie writhed in ecstasy. Rafe stripped away her stockings and caressed her thighs. His hand dipped, parting her legs, searching for the moist core of her. She sighed with pleasure and reached for his penis, wrapping her fingers around its hard length. He gasped when her thumb brushed gently over the tip of his bulb.

“I’ve missed you, my beauty, my Annie,” he whispered as he lowered his head and tasted her.

His tongue laved her clitoris and dove deeper. She moaned and opened her knees wider. He licked again and again until she cried out with her release. Then he rose above her and slid his shaft inside her. She caught her breath as another spasm racked her senses. He waited, moving slowly and rhythmically. When her cries died away, he increased his strokes until she feared she couldn’t bear another climax, then it washed over her, more powerful than any she’d felt before and she put her arms around him and hung on as paroxysms of sensations shook her.

Sometime later, when their muscles had begun to relax, but they were still connected, Rafe shifted then groaned with pain.

“You’ve hurt yourself,” she cried.

He raised his head and looked at her with a triumphant smile, so she was startled into laughter.

“Ow, don’t laugh,” he said, pulling his cock from inside her, which sent her into more gales of laughter.

“You witch,” he complained, flopping onto the bed, but he still bore the smile of satisfaction. “Ah, Annie, we’re going to have a fine life.”

Lying quietly beside him, she smoothed her hand across his back until his slow, even breathing told her he slept. A fine life. Aye, it would be. She curled herself around him and closed her eyes.

About the Author

Temple Hogan is the author of over forty books, some hard cover, under the name of Peggy Hanchar and Peggy Roberts. She lives on an inland lake in Michigan with her husband, three cats and one naughty Shitz Tzu named Gizz. Her hobbies are cooking, gardening, acrylic painting and reading detective stories. She’s currently at work on her next book.

Temple loves to talk to her readers and can be found at TempleHogan.blogspot.com.

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