Desiring The Highlander

by Michele Sinclair

  Cole answered her with another scowl.

  “Ahhh, I see,” Ellenor yawned without further explanation and settled back down, facing the crackling embers of the nearly dead fire.

  After several seconds, Cole caved. “Just what do you think you see?”

  “Fàire Creachann. Isn’t that what’s keeping you awake?” she asked, flipping over to look at him. “You have that pensive look one has when their mind won’t stop swirling on a subject. I doubt there is much that can plague your thoughts, with maybe the exception of your men. You care a lot for them. So I’m guessing, you have been thinking about Fàire Creachann and whether you have been chosen. Don’t you think you will be?”

  Cole’s blue eyes locked with her green ones. They were so open and full of belief that he was a good man—good enough to be laird. “I don’t know,” he answered honestly.

  “Don’t worry,” Ellenor whispered, shifting to her back. “They’ll pick you. Your scowl is not as terrifying as you would like to believe. It doesn’t hide the depth of your feelings. You would do anything for those under your care. Even for a woman who’s from a country you hate.” Ellenor yawned and closed her eyes. “I’d pick you.”

  Less than a minute later, Cole could hear her steady breaths, indicating she had fallen fast asleep once again. He eagerly waited for her to move beside him and sighed with contentment when she finally did. He gently pulled her back into his arms and hugged her close, savoring the feel of her soft, limp form.

  He was falling in love with her and he couldn’t stop himself. Without even trying, she understood him like no other, not even his brothers, who had known him all his life. She recognized his inadequacies and still had unlimited confidence in him.

  He had watched his eldest brother meet and fall in love. It had changed him. But those had been changes Conor had been ready for, even desired.

  Love was not in Cole’s plan.

  To fall in love with anyone meant letting go of the past. To fall in love with Ellenor, however, meant much more. It meant embracing an enemy he had sworn to hate. It meant renouncing his promise to Robert. It meant living his life in the present and not the past. Something he did not know how to do.

  Cole clenched his jaw. He had no choice. For his sake and hers, he needed to permanently distance himself as quickly as possible.

  The moment they reached his brother’s, he would leave.

  Cole roused from his deep slumbered state and instinctively reached out for Ellenor. The space beside him felt oddly empty, as if she had slept in his arms for most of his life and not just one night.

  In his youth, women had warmed his bed, but he found their company awkward and difficult once he had satisfied his physical need. He had learned quickly to meet elsewhere, enabling him to avoid spending an uncomfortable night with a woman who he had solicited for only one purpose.

  Then he met Ellenor. If he rolled over and told her she had spent most of the night cuddled up to his side, she would deny it vehemently right after calling him a string of names beginning with giant and ending with Scot. Just the thought made him smile.

  Cole propped himself up on his elbows and glanced around. Once again, she was nowhere in sight. “How the hell does she keep doing that!” he growled, throwing the blanket aside.

  The sun was just starting to crest the horizon so she could not have been up for long, but the idea that Ellenor—that anyone—could maneuver around a campsite so quietly and not rouse him was more than disturbing. Skill and agility had not kept her from waking him; it had been sheer exhaustion. Nothing had ever plagued his ability to fall asleep as much as the simple knowledge of knowing she was nearby. And last night with her wrapped around him…it had been a miracle he had been able to fall asleep at all.

  Snatching his belt, he cinched it around his waist and grabbed his sword. Small muddy footsteps trekked off to the right and down toward the rushing sounds of the river, engorged from last night’s storms. He should have known. Ellenor had practically announced she was going to find a way to bathe at first light with her carefree “I feel dirty” comment in the middle of the night.

  Cole stopped at the small clearing where Jaime and Donald were sleeping. He barked for them to pack and prepare to leave. After hearing them grumble a response, he followed Ellenor’s trail into the thicket of trees lining the base of the mountain. He prepared himself to find her, walking toward him with her bag in hand, smelling of lavender and roses. But the vision at the riverbank was not one any man could have anticipated.

  Ellenor was standing at an angle, fingering large, soft tawny curls that were just on the verge of being dry. Her eyes were closed and her head was tilted back, exposing the sensual curve of her neck. She wore a cream-colored, ankle-length chainse with a rich brown bliaut over it. A band of bronze needlework circled the long sleeves of the tunic and a braided belt hung low, cradled just above her hips. The gown was moderately worn, but it fit her perfectly, clinging to her curves just enough to make a man’s mind go wild with ideas.

  Lord, she was beautiful.

  A slight breeze flickered across the water and captured a tendril of dark gold hair. It floated across her cheeks, causing Ellenor to catch the errant lock and tuck it behind her ear. The small graceful movement was purely feminine and reminded him what a gentle creature she was. Delicate wrists, slim fingers, everything about her was exquisite…and very provocative. And while her beauty was undeniable, it was her essence that had captured his soul.

  Ellenor turned abruptly and caught him studying her. Her mouth curved faintly, lips, soft, pink, parting slightly, and Cole wanted so badly to kiss her he could think of nothing else.

  Green eyes continued to hold his, and for a timeless moment, all he could do was look at her, drink her in, and memorize every inch. He reminded himself to breathe, but it did no good. His throat had constricted with desire to such a degree no air could be drawn in or escape. All he could do was stare.

  His muscles tensed, his abdomen seized. Never had such strong, deep desire flashed upon him so quickly or forcefully. His heart was beating so furiously against the walls of his chest he actually felt lightheaded.

  Get control, he ordered himself. In a few hours, you will be home. Until then, stay calm and do nothing you will regret.

  Cole reined in his desire and squared his jaw. “Just where did you get that?” he barked, waving his finger at her gown.

  Ellenor blinked, looked down at her bliaut, and then back up. “From my bag,” she answered. “Where did you get your leine?” she asked, imitating his gesture.

  “It’s the same damn one I’ve been wearing all week!” Cole snapped, seeing her grin. Only then did he realize she had been teasing him. Hating to be on the defensive, he crossed his arms and asked, “And just what do you think you are doing coming down here by yourself? I told you the currents of these rivers are dangerous!”

  Ellenor decided to ignore his caterwauling and respond as if he were being rationale and not roaring at her. “I took a bath. I left early so I had time to wash and plait my hair before we packed up and—”

  “Left early? More like the middle of the night,” Cole huffed. Her thick mane was nearly dry, proof she had risen well before dawn.

  “—I didn’t want to rush or have you wait for me,” Ellenor finished, disregarding his sarcastic interruption. “I knew you had a lot on your mind, and you were sleeping so soundly I didn’t want to wake you.” It wasn’t a total lie. She hadn’t wanted to wake him, but his sleep had been far from sound. More like restless and agitated.

  Ellenor looked down and tried smoothing out the wrinkles in her bliaut once again. “As for my gown? I was saving it. I know it’s a bit crumpled, but still better than what I’ve been wearing. What do you think? Am I presentable?”

  Presentable? Hell, no, she wasn’t presentable. In that frock, every man they encountered would ogle her, imagining what it would feel like to hold and kiss such beauty. Those were his fantasies and his alone. They smacked of p
ossessiveness, which also angered him. Not about to admit it, he grumbled, “Passable, maybe. You ready?”

  Passable? Ellenor bit down on the inside of her lip…hard. “No,” she mustered between gritted teeth and began to pace.

  Her impromptu plan was falling apart. Almost two hours ago, she had awoken draped all over him. It had felt divine, right, as if that was where she was meant to be. His arm encircled her waist, and her face was nuzzled against his neck. Her mouth was just bare inches from his skin and it had taken all her will to break away and not press her lips to his.

  She had wondered if Cole had even been aware of her presence. His breathing had been deep and steady, indicating he was asleep, but did he know she was sleeping beside him, curled against his torso with his arm around her? Or had it been an unconscious embrace any normal man would have welcomed?

  A sense of self-preservation had come over her and Ellenor tried gently to pull away. Instead of letting go, Cole had turned on his side, drawing her closer to him. Any other man and she would have been screaming, clawing to get away. With Cole, it was not her body she needed to protect, but her heart.

  Ellenor tried once again to disentangle their limbs. Succeeding, she held her breath and waited for him to wake. A handful of seconds passed before he grunted and then rolled to his other side. She was free. Then Cole had begun mumbling.

  At first, his words had not been intelligible. Then suddenly they had become clear. It didn’t take long to realize what Cole was dreaming. He had brutally lost his best friend at the hands of English soldiers. And while she couldn’t discern the circumstances of his friend’s murder, it was clear that it had not been in battle and Cole felt responsible. She had no idea how long ago it happened, but she guessed he had been young, not quite a man.

  Just as Cole had slipped back into a deep slumber, he had whispered, “I promise, Robert, never to forget. They’ll pay…every English blaigeard…will pay…”

  Curling into a ball, Ellenor wrapped her blanket around herself, but still felt cold. Going back to sleep was impossible. Her mind was racing. She was beginning to understand why Cole didn’t want to discuss what had happened, and she wasn’t sure what she would say if he ever did. She just knew that she loved him.

  Ellenor reached down and scratched her leg again. The irritation was caused by several scrapes she had received by thorn bushes in the evening’s hastened ride to shelter. Dirt and sweat had only made the need to scratch worse. She needed a bath…and a plan.

  Pulling on her slippers, Ellenor grabbed her bag and tiptoed out of the campsite and toward the sound of water. Glad to find a river and not a stream, she plunged in, welcoming the icy sensation. It did much to alleviate the stinging in her leg, but did little to end her chaotic thoughts.

  Dinner conversation had been scarce due to the weather, but one sentence had cut through the noise. They were less than a half a day’s ride from McTiernay Castle. In a few hours, she would be reunited with Laurel.

  Their friendship had sprung from their mutual interest in Gaelic and had grown deeper as each understood the terrible emptiness resulting from losing one’s mother. From almost the moment they met, they had conversed and chided and laughed as if they had known each other their entire lives. When Ainsley and Gilda decided to marry, Ellenor felt both conflicted and elated. She knew their marriage was based on escape and greed, but it gave her a new sister, a wonderful one with whom she could relate to in ways she had never enjoyed with Gilda. Then reality had reared its ugly head.

  Her sister hated competition, and she was no match for Laurel. It should have been easy to marry Laurel off, but Ainsley discovered his sister was not going to sit by and be a pawn to his desires. Ellenor had begged her to reconsider, but once Laurel had been disowned, she had no choice but to leave for Scotland. Soon word came back that she had been attacked and killed. That had been four years ago. Ellenor had just turned eighteen.

  Swimming slowly against the current, Ellenor headed back to shore to fetch the soap from her bag. She pulled the scented mound out and fingered its smooth sides. Being friends with Laurel had been so effortless, but four years was a long time. Laurel was now a wife to the laird of a very large clan. Did they still have anything in common? Ellenor wondered if she would be able to adapt and make a new life with a people and culture about which she knew so little. Laurel would be there, but would Cole? It was he whom she sought out for comfort and she didn’t know how she would react if he wasn’t there, by her side, telling her she was brave and a survivor.

  News that Cole had been named the nomad’s chieftain was most likely waiting for him. His departure would follow very soon afterward and then she would never see him again. She could ask to go with him, but Ellenor knew his answer would be a firm no. And even if Cole did for some unbelievable reason agree, being treated with indifference by someone she loved was a torture for which she did not intend to volunteer.

  As memories of him holding her came to mind, a brilliant flash came upon her. She stood up, breathing heavily.

  What if Cole wasn’t indifferent? What if she bothered him just as much as he affected her? If Cole didn’t like her, that was one thing, but if he did—

  What she needed was a plan.

  Ellenor grabbed her bag and pulled out the crushed velvet gown she had been saving. She smoothed out the material and fingered the intricate dark bronze stitching along the hem. Her sister hated the dark reddish-brown color, but combined with the off-white chainse, the russet shade flattered Ellenor enormously. She had never failed to get several compliments whenever she wore the ensemble. The moment Cole saw her in it, she would know.

  Oh, how she had been wrong.

  Initially, she had believed Cole’s stunned reaction to be just what she had hoped. But the moment he spoke, demanding to know the source of her new bliaut, she was not so sure. His facial expression was that of an unemotional statue—completely unreadable. Cole either was fighting his reaction or had none to fight.

  She needed a new plan and fast. Something much more definitive. Something that couldn’t mask his true emotions for her. And most important, something she could not misread. But what?

  Cole watched her pace back and forth for several minutes, muttering a stream of unintelligible words. Maybe he should have just said yes, that she was presentable, but he had been afraid she would have been able to see right through him and know exactly what her new look was doing to him. Instead, he had quipped some half-lie. Now, she was talking to herself and he was left with two choices. Either he could sling her over his shoulder and carry her back to camp, or he could wait until she was ready to talk about whatever was bothering her. Not in the mood to be pummeled and kicked, Cole opted for the latter and walked over to a large, waist-high boulder that must have fallen from the cliffs. He grimaced as he leaned back against the jagged surface. “Take your time,” he said sarcastically.

  Ellenor continued to move back and forth, waving for him to be quiet. Her mind was racing, but no ideas were coming to her. “I, uh, wanted to ask you something before we go back,” she said, stalling.

  Cole crossed his arms and cocked an eyebrow. “Aye. What?”

  Ellenor took a deep breath and exhaled. What? Good question. What was it she wanted?

  She looked at him. He was leaning on the rock, returning her stare. His legs were slightly apart and his arms were relaxed at his sides. He was a massive, self-confident giant, who despite his tousled hair and morning beard, had never looked so handsome. Nor so isolated.

  His untroubled posture belied the haunted tension swirling in his eyes. Normally a bright blue, their color was much deeper. The same deep hue they turned whenever he was waging a mental war. Ellenor didn’t know whether it was because of her, or their return home, or the impending decision waiting for them, but more than anything, she wanted to reach out and kiss him, let him know that she would forever believe in him.

  “God help me,” she mumbled and buried her face in her hands. A kiss? she mentall
y screamed at her psyche.

  “I couldn’t hear you.”

  Ellenor wrung her hands and resumed pacing. “Um…do you think I will be happy at your home?” she asked, wishing something more intelligent had popped out.

  Cole arched a single eyebrow. “I do,” he answered simply, wondering if Ellenor really was as nervous as she looked. “You and my brother’s wife are of similar spirits and will no doubt form a bond that will drive my brother quite out of his wits. I only wish I could see it.”

  Ellenor came to a dead stop right in front of him. She had to have misunderstood. “What do you mean?” she demanded, her voice raspy with sudden fear. “Are you leaving?”

  “Aye, directly after our arrival.”

  Ellenor felt her jaw drop. “Immediately?” she squealed and took a step closer. “But you…you can’t!” Her eyes grew large and brimmed with tears. “I need you.”

  Her soft voice had been a bare whisper and it tugged at Cole’s soul. “Oh, Elle…” he murmured and raised his hand to cup her cheek.

  A tear fell and splashed against his thumb. He brushed it away. He should have removed his hand, but he couldn’t. Not with her looking at him like that.

  Fear swam in her green pools along with a profound sense of loss. A wave of despair washed over him as he saw his own life reflected in her eyes. The years of emptiness, the loneliness, the past and the future with no one to share happiness or pain. No one to care whether he lived or died except his men. No one who would ever know the piece of him that wasn’t a commander. No one to recognize just the man. A man with ghosts.

  Suddenly, his need for Ellenor was too much. Cole curved his hand around her neck, pulled her close, and gave in to the need to kiss her. She was warm and damp, and God, so alluring as he brushed his mouth lightly, persuasively, across hers.

  He heard her gasp and tried to pull back. He’d meant only to give her a gentle kiss and end it, but then her arms wrapped around him and she groaned, opening her mouth to him, changing the gentle caress to one that was far deeper. All thoughts of ending the kiss were pushed aside.