Captured by the Pirate Laird Read Online Free PDF Page A

“I’ll escort ye.”
    He
said nothing as they walked the few feet to her stateroom door. Calum used his
key to open it and bowed. “Milady.”
    She
thought to thank him, but held her tongue and strode into her room. Turning,
she saw only the door close. The latch offered a soft click against the
creaking of the wooden ship.
    Blessed
saints, she’d practically swooned at the sight of him. Blast her betraying
heart, and blast Calum’s wayward charm.
    ***
    Anne
was already up when a knock sounded on her door. “Come in.”
    Bran,
the cabin boy who had served dinner peeked in. “I’ve brought ye some porridge
and bread, milady.”
    She
gestured to the table. “I was wondering if the captain would see fit to feed me
today.”
    “What?
Ye think he would push a crust of bread and a jug of ale under yer door?”
    “Possibly
not the ale.”
    “Ye’ve
got the laird all wrong. If it weren’t for him, the people of Raasay would have
starved last winter.”
    “Oh?
Is that why he plunders ships? To feed the poor?”
    “We-ell,
aye, truth be told.” He reached out and dropped a key in her palm. “This is for
yer door. The captain says you’re free to come and go.”
    “How
generous of him. I can now leave my stateroom and consort with pirates.”
    “We’re
no’ all that bad, milady. Just trying to make a go of it just like any other
scrapper out there.”
    Anne
studied the boy. As friendly as a Spaniel puppy, he was as tall as her with dark
brown curls. “How old are you, Bran?”
    “Two
and ten.”
    “Oh
my, you’re quite tall for your age.”
    Bran
ran his fingers along the plaid that crossed over his shoulder and stood a bit
taller. “Calum’s training me to be a knight.”
    “Honestly?
That is quite a great responsibility at two and ten.” She reached for the bread
and broke it in half. “Where are your parents?”
    He
kicked a floorboard with the toe of his boot. “Me da’s dead but me ma works in
the kitchen at Brochel Castle.”
    “Brochel?
Is that your clan’s keep?”
    “Aye,
milady. ’Tis on the isle of Raasay.”
    Anne
lifted her spoon. “And to which clan do you belong?” Hmm. Gathering information
would be easier than she thought. She only need ask the right person.
    “MacLeod.”
The boy rubbed his arm and grimaced.
    Anne
studied him furrowing her brow. “Are you injured?”
    “’Tis
only a bruise, milady.”
    She
stood and folded her arms. “Show me.”
    Bran’s
gaze shot to the door. Biting his bottom lip, he reluctantly rolled up his
sleeve. “’Twill be right in a week.”
    Anne
swallowed her shock. The boy’s whole arm was purple from the wrist right up to
his shoulder. “What happened?” She inspected it for swelling. “This should be
immobilized. It could be broken.”
    “I
took a tumble off the rigging.” With effort, he flexed his muscle. “See. I can
move it.”
    “I’m
not convinced.” Anne pulled her bundle of healing essences from her trunk.
“First, I shall rub a salve into it and then we’ll put it in a sling.”
    Bran
stepped back. “I cannot work with me arm bound up.”
    Anne
made him sit in the chair and carefully smoothed in a salve of houseleek and St.
John’s wort. “It will not heal properly unless you take care of it.”
    She
fashioned a sling from a piece of linen and tapped his nose. “Rest it as much
as you can. Do you understand? ’Tis very important.”
    “Aye,
milady. Thank ye.”
    “Bran,”
a deep voice bellowed from the corridor.
    The
boy blanched. “’Tis Master John. I must away.”
    ***
    When
Anne finished her breakfast, she picked up the key and swung her cloak around
her shoulders. She wished she had her dagger. She wasn’t quite sure what she’d
find out on the decks, but she couldn’t hide in her stateroom forever.
    Slowly
opening the door to the main deck, Anne listened for any sign of improper
behavior. Sails flapped in the whistling wind, men worked together mending the
rigging above and when she stepped out, she