Desiring The Highlander

by Michele Sinclair

  “Tell me about it, Elle. I promise you. I will not judge.”

  His request met with several minutes of silence before she finally spoke. “I’m sorry. I didn’t even know I could cry like that. When I should have wept, I couldn’t produce even one tear. It was as if a piece of me—the piece that feels—had died along with everyone else.”

  “Was your father part of everyone?”

  Ellenor nodded against his chest. “I found him, along with his murderers. They were in his room, robbing him of anything valuable. My father was on the floor. A dagger was in his chest. His eyes were open. Shock and pain stared back at me. His mouth was open, too, from when he had called out. That was what brought me to his room. But when I got there, he was already dead.”

  Cole forced himself to unclench and relax his jaw. Stroking her hair, he whispered, “I’m so sorry, Elle.”

  “I did it. It was my fault.”

  His initial impulse to her declaration was to refute it. Cole was positive it was not true; however, for some mysterious reason, Ellenor obviously imagined it to be so. “How so?” he asked softly.

  “My father knew they weren’t good men. He knew from the beginning. They were forced upon us by my uncle. My father didn’t have many soldiers, but the ones he had were very loyal. When my mother died, they became fiercely protective of the rest of the family. My sister hated it. Said she felt like someone was watching her every move and pressured father into letting her marry. He finally agreed and Gilda selected Ainsley, someone very like herself. He’s the greedy sort who is never happy with what he has. He enjoyed living well and demanded a dowry—one that my father could not afford. Gilda had made sure she was compromised, forcing my father to use the money my uncle gave him, not for soldiers as they had agreed, but on my sister.”

  “Unfortunate,” Cole said, prompting her to continue.

  “All was well, for a while. Then somehow, my uncle must have found out. He was furious. I couldn’t understand why he cared so much. All my life I saw my uncle use people to get what he wanted, and he most especially liked using my father. And before you think badly of my father, he knew what his brother was about.”

  “Then why did he allow it?”

  “He said it was because it suited him. My mother said my father was appealing to his brother’s envy and that as long as my uncle believed himself to be better and more powerful than us, there would be peace. So, my father let him.”

  Cole scooted a couple of inches down into a more comfortable position and took a deep breath. Exhaling, he said, “Excellent strategy. Your father found a clever way to protect what he truly valued.”

  “I told you that you would have liked him. You think as he did. I only wish he could have fought like you,” Ellenor said, her voice so small and weak she wasn’t even sure she spoke aloud.

  “These…men that killed your father, they came from your uncle?” Cole questioned. She had been sidetracked and he wanted her to fully explain what had happened, more for her sake than his. He was curious, but until she unburdened herself completely, she would forever have nightmares.

  “A few weeks after my uncle left,” Ellenor began, “he sent us three soldiers. I didn’t realize why he was being so generous, but my father did. My uncle was cheating the king by skimming taxes.”

  “That explains why your uncle was willing to give your father money.”

  “I later discovered they had a standing agreement. Some of the money was to recruit soldiers who would eventually serve my uncle…”

  “…saving him the burden and expense of training,” Cole finished as understanding finally dawned on him.

  “My uncle came to see why he hadn’t gotten his new recruits.”

  “That was the argument you overheard.”

  “Yes, but I didn’t make all the connections until later…much later. When I started pretending to be crazy, I just wanted everyone to leave me alone. Then they did, leaving me only memories.”

  Cole knew exactly what she meant. Nightmares robbed one of sleep, but in the day…it bled one’s sanity.

  Unaware of how she touched him, she continued, “So when my uncle sent soldiers to ‘support’ my father, he of course wanted to order the men back, but I was naïve. I liked them. I was bored. They were fun. So I was relentless in begging my father to change his mind and he finally agreed, saying maybe it would be wiser to watch the fox, rather than wonder where it was. I didn’t understand his meaning and I didn’t care. I was just glad they were staying. One of them, Seth, the leader of the group, was enormously charming and funny and he flattered me continuously. After a few months of his company, I had actually imagined myself in love. My father must have realized I was being foolish and confronted Seth, ordering him and his two friends to leave. And they would have left,” Ellenor scoffed.

  “Would have? They didn’t?” Cole asked.

  Ellenor shook her head in shame. “I ran after them. I found Seth just as he was prepping his mount. He was eager to leave, mumbling how a knight of his caliber deserved a rich lord with a pretty daughter. I told him that I would go with him, that my father was wrong. I put my heart out there and he cruelly threw it back at me, calling me the least womanly, most unappealing female creature he had ever been forced to spend time with.” She bit the last words, remembering the menacing way in which they were said.

  Cole sat stunned for several seconds. Had the man been blind? Could anyone be so foolish to spend time with this woman and fail to appreciate all she had to offer? As soon as he asked the question, he realized he was just such a fool. Then again, Ellenor was not his to claim.

  “Of course Seth was right,” Ellenor continued, “but that just made his verbal onslaught even more painful. I wanted to hurt him—hurt him as he had hurt me. So, I lied. I told him my father was rich, much richer than my uncle, with hidden stashes of gold that would be given as a dowry to the man I chose to marry…a man that would never be him. Then I left, foolishly believing I had won.”

  Ellenor paused, remembering. “That night I went to apologize to my father. Just as I reached the door, I heard a scuffle and him calling out. It was one time and not very loud and his voice had been full of fear. I opened the door to see one of Seth’s men collapsed in a chair with my father’s sword through his back. Then I saw my father. He was on the ground with a knife in his chest. His eyes were facing towards the door, but I knew immediately there was no life in them. He was dead.”

  Her voice was fragile and shaking, but Cole knew she was only just getting to the heart of her nightmares. “What happened next?”

  “I…I’m not sure. I cannot remember. I must have said or done something to alert them I was there, because the next thing I recall is Seth. He was on top of me. I was on the floor next to my father, lying in his blood, and Seth was straddling me, sneering, and saying awful things. His friend was nearby telling him to hurry up. He wanted a turn. I didn’t know what they meant…and then I felt Seth’s hand on my leg and I knew he was going to hurt me. I was reaching for anything to use to make him stop and that is when I felt the knife still in my father’s chest.”

  Ellenor lifted her head up and looked Cole directly in the eye. “I had to kill him. I didn’t mean to, but I am not sorry that I did.”

  “Your nightmares…is this what they are about?”

  Ellenor turned her head slightly and stared blankly at the campfire. The flames were leaping into the night sky, both beautiful and deadly. “My dreams are about what I did next,” she said flatly. All emotion—empathy, fear, regret—was gone from her voice.

  “I sliced Seth’s throat open. He didn’t have a chance to even utter a sound. His friend leaned in close to find out why Seth hadn’t responded and got the blade in his eye. He screamed for several minutes before he, too, collapsed, dead. That was when the servants came. They looked, saw what had happened, and dragged me free. They wanted to know what to do, whom to tell, and that is when I decided…no one. No one was to know.

  “I b
uried my father, and then took the three men who murdered him to a hill. I rode out every day to inspect their decaying bodies, hoping to feel something as their flesh was mutilated by beasts and vultures—hate, anger, horror, even remorse—but there was nothing. Even now, when I think about it and envision them rotting—I feel not a single emotion.”

  “Then what scares you at night?”

  “Me,” Ellenor said simply. “I go and stare at them. Then I leave and there is a river in front of me. I get off and let my horse drink. I reach down to dip my fingers into the water and see my reflection staring back at me. Except I am hollow, my own skin matches those of the men I killed. Pieces of my flesh are missing from animals feeding on it. Then the rippling image speaks, saying that I should be on that hill with them. For if I had not begged my father to let them stay, if I had not taunted those men, if I had just listened, they would have left and my father would be alive.”

  Cole lifted her head. He didn’t say anything. Nothing he could say would erase her pain. Just as nothing she could say would erase his own personal hell. Regardless, in the semidarkness, his eyes held hers, silently promising that he understood.

  Tears slipped down her cheeks. Cole brushed them away with his thumb. Then more came, and soon, her eyes were once again flooded. She collapsed against him, clinging to his chest, desperately needing him. She choked on a sob. “Oh, God, Cole. I miss him so much!”

  Cole held her tightly against him, murmuring that he understood, that it wasn’t her fault, and that her father would be proud of her. Slowly, she calmed. He continued to stroke her hair and waited until she was ready to talk once again. This time, she sounded much more like her confident self.

  “For months, I made that trek. The servants kept the secret of my father’s death, and I died a little more every day. Then my uncle came and quickly figured out that somehow my father had died. He told Gilda and soon both of them decided I should be married as quickly as possible. I wanted nothing to do with anyone, ever again. I know it doesn’t make sense…”

  “It does,” Cole countered, his voice low and soothing. “You didn’t want to be hurt again.”

  “I never thought of it that way, but you’re right. I never wanted to care about anything or anyone again.”

  “And so if you couldn’t keep people away, you decided to make them want to stay away,” Cole added, with some levity.

  Ellenor shrugged. “Madness seemed like a good plan. Between not bathing, throwing food, tripping, and many other creative tricks, I became the most unmarriageable lady in all of northern England. Word spread quickly about my ill behavior and no man was willing to marry me. And believe me, my sister tried. I have no idea how many suitors Gilda dredged up, but not a one was willing to wed me after ten minutes in my company. Until you, I cannot think of a single soul who could stomach my presence for more than thirty minutes without begging to be excused.”

  “But I knew you weren’t mad,” Cole stated, standing up.

  Ellenor tilted her head to look him in the eye. “That’s because you knew what I was doing and why. Maybe not the specifics, but you knew. I could tell the first time you looked at me.”

  Cole leaned down and gently clasped her face between his hands and said, “Elle, you will have your dreams again, but this time in the water, you will see me right beside you. And never again will you see yourself hollow or dead as those of your father’s murderers, but as I see you. Beautiful and brave. Never be afraid again. Promise me.”

  Ellenor sat still, riveted by the almost imperceptible note of pleading in his face. The sorrow that always lingered in his eyes was still there, but so was an unquenchable warmth and limitless understanding. They spoke directly to her soul.

  Then, as if he realized she could see through the walls he had erected around his heart, Cole threw up new ones. His face deadened, once again hiding emotions he wanted everyone to believe he did not have. But for those few moments, she had seen them all and she could no longer pretend he was just an honorable man. Cole McTiernay was much more.

  She was in love with him.

  She loved all of him. Physically, he drew her toward him and his compelling blue eyes had claimed her soul. He was strong, yet gentle, and in his arms, she was never afraid. She loved how he spoke in short sentences, how he laughed, how he never yielded to her whims, and how he was aggravatingly honest. She even loved his cold allusiveness, for she knew it was just a cover for incredibly deep and strong emotions.

  But he would never know of her love for him.

  Telling him was not an option.

  Cole considered her a responsibility, not a woman. Loving him was heartbreaking enough. She would not expose her heart to the immeasurable pain of his rejection.

  He squeezed her shoulder. “Promise me, Elle. You won’t be afraid.”

  Ellenor swallowed and nodded. “I promise,” she whispered. And she meant it. Somehow she knew the nightmare would return, but never again would it haunt her as it had. He had done that for her and she wished she could do the same for him.

  Just before he could walk away, she grasped his hand. “Cole, someday, when you are ready, I want you to know you can tell me about whom the English took from you.”

  Cole waited for Ellenor to let go, but she didn’t. She was waiting. When he refused to agree, she pressed, “Remember that distance avoids pain, but happiness as well. Until you can forgive yourself, you will never be the leader you want to be.”

  Cole thought about denying her allegation, but she would have recognized the lie. Still, he could not do as she asked. “It’s my burden. Not yours.”

  “If not me, then who else? I have no expectations of you. You cannot destroy any hero worship for I have no visions of you being anything beyond what you are. Your secret will be safe with me.”

  Cole felt his mouth go dry. Never had he been so close to disclosing the events of that awful day. Not until now. And yet, he couldn’t do it. “I don’t think I can. Not even to you. I need my hate, Elle. It’s all I have.”

  “If you need it, Cole, then keep it. But the day you no longer want to carry it with you, I will be there as you were for me tonight. Just keep in mind that whatever you have been doing, it isn’t working.” Then Ellenor let go and watched him return to his own blanket.

  In a few days, they would arrive at his brother’s home. Cole would leave and she would reclaim control of her future. Hoping he would be a part of it was foolish. He didn’t love her.

  For if he did, Cole would no longer need his hate, he would just need her.

  Chapter 6

  Trying to keep her teeth from chattering, Ellenor focused on the beauty all around her. They had crossed the Trossachs yesterday, and while the hills were inspiring, she had to agree with Jaime—the famed Highland mountains were the most glorious lands she could ever hope to see. Green and brown rocky giants were everywhere, seeming to grow larger with each one they crossed. The deep dark lochs cradled in their valleys only accentuated their splendor. Occasional farms located near the water came in and out of view, but Cole kept the small group moving, not saying whether he knew them.

  His quiet, frustrating demeanor had started the previous morning. He had awakened before her and had begun dismantling the campsite, a clear sign he intended to begin the day’s journey early. Breakfast had been quick with only a fast meal of dried meat and water, and though Donald and Jaime had chatted quietly, Cole had been aloof. Only once had he spoken to her and that had been a simple, to-the-point question. “Sleep well?”

  Caught off guard by his abrupt tone, Ellenor had replied similarly, “Yes. You?”

  “Well enough.” Again, short and terse.

  Ellenor was not fooled.

  Nothing was directly amiss, but Cole’s face had a lean look about it as if he had not slept at all. His critical expression made it clear he blamed her. She had stirred things up, and while she had finally summoned the courage to excise her demons, he had not. And he was paying for it.

 
After a full day of enduring Cole’s aloof demeanor and another morning of clipped responses, Ellenor decided he could struggle alone. She could endure the lack of conversation, but not when it was accompanied with forced stiffness, as if the truth about her past reminded him that she was English and someone to hate. So when she awoke to more of the same, Ellenor decided to ask Jaime if she could ride with him and he had readily agreed. She had hoped Cole would intervene, but when he didn’t, she had deadened her expression, refusing to let him know his indifference affected her.

  At first, it had been unnerving being in the arms of another man. Her automatic fear of men had bubbled to the surface, and when it eventually subsided, a strange sensation was left in its wake, as if she were wearing someone else’s clothes…and they didn’t fit. To hide her anxiety, she struck up conversations on a variety of topics. Thankfully, Jaime obliged. It was during such a discussion when she inadvertently learned the truth about who had sent for her.

  Ellenor had pointed to Cole riding ahead and the awkward item strapped to the back of his saddle. “Why is Cole the only one who carries a long bow?”

  Jaime shrugged. “I find them cumbersome.”

  “And Cole?”

  “He took it up a few years ago. And though he had never said why, I believe it is because our good commander found it unsettling someone was better with a weapon than he.”

  Ellenor shook her head incredulously. “Cole hates the English, and the last thing he would want to imitate is an English soldier.”

  “True, if the someone I was talking about was an Englishman, but it was an English woman. When Cole’s eldest brother married an accomplished bow hunter, our commander forced himself to perfect the skill. And he has. With that long bow, he can hit any target, whether moving or far away, with deadly accuracy. And how about you, lass? Are you as skilled with a bow?”