Claimed by a Laird Read Online Free PDF

His
eyebrows lifted as he stared at her, evidently waiting for her agreement.
    “Fine,” she spat, glaring at him through narrowed eyes.
“Just get that damn blade away from me.”
    A brief flash of amusement sparked in the man’s gray,
foreboding eyes and the skin crinkled slightly at the corners. Her neck
prickled with goose bumps. If he would just open the damn door then maybe, just
maybe, someone might see them or she would, at least, get a chance to escape.
    He dropped the knife from her neck, securing the hilt in his
palm as he grabbed the iron handle of the door and effortlessly pulled it open.
    All thoughts of escape vanished the moment she was
confronted with stone walls. A long, torch-lined corridor with a small window
at the end lay before her, looking like something straight out of Braveheart .
No grass. No sunlight. No river. Nothing she had expected lay anywhere in
sight.
    Where the hell am I?
    “I would hate to mar that lovely neck of yours,” the man
stated, his voice deep and resonant as his thumb lightly caressed the sensitive
skin of her throat, sending thrilling shivers through her. “But one sound out
of you and I will slit it. Is that understood?”
    Anna nodded dumbly, only half hearing his threat. One thing
was for certain. She had to find a way out of this place…wherever and whatever
it was. And, as frightening as it was to admit, this half-crazed, dangerously
hot man might be her only ticket to the outside world.
    He released her neck and then squeezed her hand. When she
turned her eyes up to him, she was taken aback by the change in his demeanor.
Kindness radiated from his eyes, glowing brilliant silver in the torchlight.
    “All you have to do is follow me and remain silent,” he
whispered with all the authority of a five-star general. “As long as you obey
my commands, you will not be harmed.”
    She slowly nodded again. Dark smudges beneath his eyes
called attention to the pallor of his skin and the weariness etched across his
brow. An unexpected surge of sympathy welled within her. His horrid threat to
kill her was nothing but a bluff to gain her cooperation in aiding his escape.
    The nurse in her took over, but she resisted the urge to
feel his forehead for a fever just in case the sudden move might set him off.
“Are you all right?” she whispered, gently pressing her fingers into his hand
to gauge how cold or clammy it was.
    He jumped back, ripping his hand from hers as if she were on
fire. “I am well enough. Now which way is best?” he snapped, strength quickly
returning to his features.
    “Hell if I know,” she replied, her ego bruised.
    “Are you not a guest of the Graham?” His eyes darted up and
down the corridor.
    “The who?”
    Footsteps echoed through the hall and the man grabbed Anna
by the elbow, yanking her back into the dungeon antechamber. He shoved her
against the wall and silently closed the door. Putting a finger to his lips, he
moved in front of her, plastering his back against her chest. Every muscle in
his body tensed against her like a wolf preparing to defend his pack from intruders.
    Silence pounded in Anna’s ears as she stiffly clung to the
wall, barely daring to breathe. Her shoulder blades burned where they had
scraped against the roughly hewn stones. She silently cursed him. Her chances
of pushing him away to get the attention of whoever was outside without him
slicing her throat first were nearly zero.
    But if she were very careful, she just might be able to
reach her cell phone. If she were lucky, the voice of the emergency operator
might take him by surprise and give her just enough time to get out of his
reach and through the door. With her eyes carefully trained on the side of the
man’s face, she slowly inched her hand into her bag.
    As her fingers wrapped around the phone, he whispered from
the side of his mouth, “What the hell do you think you are doing?”
    She jumped, her nose bumping his back. “My back hurts,” she
mumbled,