Desiring The Highlander

by Michele Sinclair

  Cole lessened his grip and began to stroke her spine. Ellenor moaned and arched her back, quivering with untutored passion. There was something completely satisfying knowing he could make her react so genuinely to him. It ignited his own feverish need with an intensity he hadn’t known he possessed.

  With a soft, low growl, Cole pulled her roughly up against him so that her body was molded against his. He deepened the kiss, sinking his soul into this one brief moment of sheer pleasure.

  The embrace was far different from the one they had shared when only he had been aware of what was transpiring. An awake Ellenor was wild, undisciplined, following his lead, tasting him, meeting him stroke for stroke. The result was a soul-stripping, demanding, and far more blatantly erotic kiss. It shocked him, and yet he was not about to let it end.

  Her mouth slanted over his lips, her tongue mating with his repeatedly, until Cole was consumed, breathless, and mindless with need. He knew he was in danger of losing control, and yet, he couldn’t get enough of her. He invaded her mouth, thrusting his tongue deep, swallowing her moans of satisfaction.

  Her chest was heaving with the effort to breathe, and Cole wanted to taste more of her. His mouth began to rove from her lips across her cheek to her earlobe, suckling it between his teeth. His hands made their way from her lower back, to her stomach and up to touch her breasts. They were the perfect size, and with one flick of the hand, they could be free, accessible for verifying what he knew to be true. That they, along with everything else about her, would taste exquisite. Suddenly he was ravenous.

  Cole returned his lips to hers, silencing any potential words of protest, and let his fingers slip beneath the collar of her chemise. With a slight tug, a perfect cream and pink mound sprang free. His hand moved over to touch the softness awaiting him. He thought for a moment she would pull away, but instead, Ellenor lost the ability to stand. Catching her, he moved a leg between her thighs to balance her weight, allowing him to focus on the new delights he had just found.

  Blood surged through his veins, and every muscle in his body became tight as he began to touch her in ways he knew would give her pleasure. She shivered but did not pull away. He needed no further encouragement. His lips trailed down the column of her throat to the soft, sensitive flesh just above the swell of her breast. Finally, he laved the pink bud, tantalizing it until it had swollen to its fullest.

  Ellenor’s head tipped back. A small cry was caught in her throat. Her nails bit into his shoulders as she clutched at him. Then she began to move. With each swirl of his tongue across her nipple, she rubbed herself gently back and forth against his straddled thigh, letting him feel the sultry heat emanating from between her legs.

  Cole was so hard, he feared he would burst, but nothing was going to drive him away. Not even the pain of knowing he would never again be able to touch her and know such pleasure. He was going mad with conflicting needs to cease his torture and to extend the experience for as long as possible.

  “So soft, so sweet. Never have I wanted another woman more,” he murmured, lifting her, pulling her against him, letting her feel all of him.

  “Please, Cole,” she begged. “Please, I don’t know what is happening. Just don’t leave me…promise me you won’t go.” And then she planted her lips once again on his.

  It was the most incredible kiss Cole had ever experienced. And very few things could have made him break it off, but Ellenor’s sweet request was one of them. He released her lips and cradled her to him, pulling her sleeve back over her shoulder. For the rest of his life, when he smelled lavender he would think of her and how it felt to hold an angel in his arms.

  He would also remember what it felt like to let her go.

  “No, Elle, I can’t. That’s the one thing I won’t do.”

  Ellenor felt as if she had been pushed into a very deep, very cold loch. She was drowning in misplaced trust. How could she have been so naïve?

  Slinking out of his arms, she hugged herself and felt the weight of cold reality flow over her, deadening her body that just seconds ago was more alive than she had thought possible.

  Ellenor glanced at him. His face once again looked as if it had been carved out of stone, completely unreadable. No one, she told herself, no one is that devoid of emotion. Especially after that kiss.

  It had been magical. Everything a kiss should be. For a few blissful moments, all had been forgotten, the world had drifted away, and it had been just her and him. Then she had asked for more. That was when Cole had retreated to the impenetrable place of protection.

  Understanding filled Ellenor and her own expression relaxed into a smile. The only reaction Cole gave was a slight rising of the eyebrows, but it was enough. Enough to confirm what she knew in her heart. He was not indifferent to her. Far from it. He had peeled away the deep parts of her, and she had done the same to him. And it scared him.

  Cole had been honest when he had said he needed his hate, and Ellenor wondered if he knew just what it was costing him…her…them. And suddenly it didn’t matter.

  A week ago, she had wanted to run away from all men. She had not realized at the time avoidance would give her no solace. He had made her feel whole again. With Cole, she was no longer afraid of her future, her past, or the possibility she had changed so much, she was no longer herself. Cole had given her that gift and she had fallen in love with him. And based on what they had just shared, Cole felt something, maybe not love, but something for her. He just hadn’t been ready. Well, prepare yourself, Highlander, for I am not about to let you go.

  Ellenor leaned into Cole and gave him a peck on the cheek. “Thank you. Now I know.”

  Cole pulled back and crossed his arms. Ellenor walked over to her things, trying to move and act as casually as possible. As she had hoped, it piqued his interest. “Know what?”

  The question had not been loud, but clipped. Her reaction was rattling him, just as she had intended.

  Ellenor swallowed and convinced herself it was all or nothing. For if she didn’t try, she would lose him anyway. “That kiss,” she said, tossing the few items scattered on the ground into her bag. “I know you promised I would not have to marry, but we both know that unless I am being imprisoned or made a slave, eventually I will have to face the possibility. Now I can,” she said with a shrug of her shoulders, rising. “And I can even look forward to it. I’m not the same person you met just a few days ago. I had forgotten who I was. Now I remember.”

  “And just who are you?” Cole demanded, his voice lower, softer, and darker.

  “I’m not someone who will waste my time pining after a man who doesn’t want me. I’m obviously attracted to you, but I want a man who would fight heaven and hell before walking out of my arms, just as I would do for him.”

  Ellenor tossed the bag over her shoulder, turned, and began to head back toward camp. And that is just what I am doing, she whispered to herself. Fighting hell for you.

  Chapter 7

  Cole watched Ellenor run into Laurel’s expectant arms, evidence of his latest blunder. There was not an inkling of surprise in Ellenor’s demeanor. Just the opposite. The moment they came through the gatehouse, she began searching the courtyard, her expression one of eager delight. Not until then did it dawn on him that Ellenor knew exactly who had sent for her. She had certainly dropped enough clues. Her behavior had been eerily calm and there was a surprising scarcity of questions for someone in her supposed ignorant position. Unfortunately, his mind had been too preoccupied on their kiss and her parting comment to notice any of the signs.

  He should have turned around, gathered his men, and left the second he realized Ellenor was more than happy being reunited with Laurel. Instead, he found himself stealing a final few minutes to watch her.

  The two women hugged, pulled slightly away, smiled, and then hugged again. Then they started chatting. Ellenor pointed at Laurel’s protruding stomach, and Laurel fingered Ellenor’s hair, indicating that it was now much shorter than it once was. The two la
ughed and went on for several minutes. They had obviously been very close, and time had done nothing to dampen their friendship.

  For once, Laurel did not outshine the woman next to her. His sister-in-law’s classic features of long blond curly hair and blue-green eyes were nothing compared to Ellenor and her wild beauty. Maybe it was because Laurel was large with child, but Cole suspected he would always prefer Ellenor’s tawny looks, athletic frame, and curvaceous figure.

  A sudden rush of unexpected envy washed over him. Laurel would be the one Ellenor would turn to now, not him. And in the future it would be someone else. A husband. The thought was almost unbearable and the need to leave immediately rose again to the surface.

  He was just about to head out when Laurel waved at him to come over. Cole grimaced, took a deep breath, and nodded. He swung his leg over his mount’s massive hind end and hopped down. He threw his reins to Jaime and pointed to the waiting stable master before making his way across the yard.

  Ellenor met him halfway, and before he could say a word, she frowned and lightly nudged his shoulder. “Stop scowling,” she hissed under her breath. “Laurel will think you are upset with her.”

  Cole cocked an eyebrow in surprise, knowing Laurel would be more shocked if he wasn’t scowling. “I’m practically grinning, abarach,” he replied. Seconds later, he produced a genuine smile seeing her reaction. Ellenor hated being called bold, especially because she thought he meant it as an insult. In reality, he liked her audacity, but he would never tell her so. “Your scowl, however, could scare the most impudent of recruits.”

  Ellenor’s jaw dropped in preparation for a scathing response, but Laurel chimed in before she could utter the unladylike phrase. “My, Ellenor, what have you done to our Cole to make him give you such high compliments?”

  Ellenor swiveled to correct her friend, but she was quickly silenced by Laurel’s wink.

  Laurel reached out and grabbed Cole’s forearm, entwined it with her own, and began to walk toward the massive tower at the far end of the yard. Ellenor fell in step, her eyes not on their destination, but on Cole.

  “I take it Conor is not here,” Cole said coolly. “Is he just out for the afternoon or has he yet to return from Fàire Creachann?”

  Laurel shook her head. “He is still north, and therefore I must ask you to stay. With Conor gone, I need help. Your brothers, Craig and Crevan, are away at Laird Schellden’s, and Clyde has gone south for training, leaving just you.”

  “What about Conan?” Cole demanded and immediately felt a sharp prod in his back from Ellenor. “I mean, he’s here, isn’t he? Can he not assist you until Conor returns?” he asked more softly, suddenly comprehending what had just occurred. Without a word, Ellenor had told him to correct his tone and he had surprisingly complied.

  “He’s here,” Laurel sighed, “but Father Lanaghly just returned with a new set of maps, so pulling your brother away from his studies would be near impossible. Besides, I had assumed you would want to stay until Conor returned with news.” Laurel shifted to face Ellenor. “That is why I am so glad you are here. First, I have missed you enormously, but mostly I can use your assistance until I no longer have to waddle around here like a fat bird begging to be on someone’s dinner plate. And since you get along with Cole so well, it only makes sense he stay and help.”

  Ellenor’s jaw visibly dropped. Cole twitched with the realization Ellenor was in even more shock hearing Laurel’s request than he was. Whatever the two women had discussed, it had not included a plea to make him stay.

  Laurel unconsciously rubbed her protruding stomach, and images of Ellenor, large and beautiful with his child, flooded Cole’s mind. He imagined her curled up in front of the fireplace in his room, her hair disheveled and wild across his chest as she slept in his arms. In his mind’s eye, he was whole…he was happy. He was in love.

  In reality, he was a fool.

  His feelings for Ellenor had been building, not diminishing as he had hoped. He should have realized emotions this powerful never dissipated. He loved Ellenor, but he would not make her happy. Not in the end. She needed someone whole, someone who lived for her and not for a ghost.

  Cole abruptly stopped in the courtyard, capturing the attention of both women, who had continued to chatter away. “Lady Ellenor, I suspect we will see each other later. Lady Laurel,” he began ominously, “you and I have much to discuss about what constitutes a treasured item and any future attempts to have me run your errands. Until then, if I am to stay, there are things to which I must attend.” And with a nod he pivoted, and headed toward the stables.

  Laurel waited until Cole was out of sight and then turned her enormous sea green eyes to Ellenor. She sent a quick, playful elbow into her friend’s side and asked in wonderment, “Good Lord, what have you done to him?”

  Ellenor’s brows shot up. “Him? Nothing. It’s not possible to do anything to him. You have one large rock for a brother-in-law,” Ellenor snapped and crossed her arms. “And that ‘Lady Ellenor’ he so casually dropped was the first time he has ever used my name.”

  Laurel gave Ellenor a look of blatant disbelief and restarted their trek toward the tower. “No need to pretend. I know you like him. He likes you, too, by the way. A lot. And as for him calling you ‘Lady Ellenor’…well, you will have to search your heart for another reason because he holds no ceremony with me. It was not I who prompted the gentlemanlike remark, I assure you.”

  “Gentlemanlike?” Ellenor choked out. “For days he said that I smelled or told me I was brazen…”

  “I’m sure you did smell, and unless you are a completely different person than the one I once knew, you can be surprisingly bold.”

  “But to be called names like babag and abarach?”

  Laurel cast Ellenor a sideways glance. “And as your sweet docile nature is still firmly in place, I am guessing you never once called him a name or two, however appropriate.”

  That got Ellenor to pause as she remembered two of her favorites, Elmer and Scot. She was just about to admit to it when she realized the enormity of the tower in front of her. “Good Lord, how many stories is it? And please tell me my room is not on the top floor,” she murmured as her eyes journeyed down and then back up the stacked stones stretching into the sky.

  “There are seven stories and I thought the same thing when I first saw the Star Tower,” Laurel laughed, remembering her own awe upon entering the courtyard. The tower’s battlements were still one of her favorite places to go, especially on a clear night. “It is where Conor and I sleep. You’ll be staying in the North Tower.” She pointed to the large round structure anchoring the other end of the curtain wall. “The only one who bunks in there right now is Conan, but he mainly stays up on the top floors amidst his books and maps.”

  Ellenor took a moment to look around. She had been so focused on Laurel she had not taken in the castle’s size. Six round towers supporting a sizable curtain wall formed a large D-shaped inner yard. Two at the ends of the straight ravine wall, two at the bends, and two on either side of the guard gate that was further fortified by a single well-sized barbican. Along each wall were several buildings, some Ellenor recognized from their size as the Lower Hall and Great Hall, stables and chapel. Others were not as obvious, but definitely in use as people shuffled in and out of them. All of them were aware of Laurel’s presence, looking in her direction with expressions of curiosity about the identity of the newcomer.

  One man stood out more than the rest. He had curly ginger hair and a beard that was several shades darker. He was not short, but neither was he overly tall. His shoulders were extremely broad, giving him a somewhat squat appearance. On the surface, his size and portly status made him appear out of place, but he walked as if he ruled all those he saw.

  Laurel waved her hand at the grim-faced Highlander. The man returned the gesture before disappearing into a small building. “That’s Fallon, our steward. I will introduce you to him later. He can be a little disagreeable, but if you can han
dle Cole, you will have no problems with him or Fiona.”

  Ellenor’s brows shot up. “Fiona?”

  “Our cook,” Laurel said with a sigh and proceeded toward the Star Tower’s large arched-shaped doorway. “She’s the best in the Highlands, but oh, what we have to endure to have good food. Let’s talk where it is more comfortable.”

  Laurel leaned into the large bog oak door and stepped inside the portico. It was empty. She headed to a corkscrew staircase and began to climb, using a thick rope as support. Ellenor followed, noticing that the burst of energy Laurel had exhibited earlier was beginning to wane. “I think you should lie down.”

  “Aye, I should, but don’t you dare let anyone know I admitted such a thing,” Laurel huffed and rounded the fourth story. “Here we are.”

  Ellenor trailed Laurel around a narrow hallway and into a large bedchamber of muted golds and greens. Three arched windows overlooking a deep ravine provided ample light to showcase the room’s splendor. A small fire had been lit, making the air feel warm and welcoming, encouraging those who entered to sit down and relax. Just to the hearth’s side was a large wooden tub with steam rising from it.

  Ellenor gasped in delight as Laurel nudged her toward the warm slice of heaven. “As soon as the sentry returned with word of your impending arrival, I had a bath drawn for you and pulled out a few gowns in case you would like to change. Don’t worry. These don’t belong to anyone. I had a suspicion Gilda wouldn’t burden you with many personal things and you might need some new clothes. So I had a couple of things made for you based on my memory and my old figure, so I hope they fit. If not, my friend Brighid is a genius with a needle.”

  Ellenor fingered the deep burgundy and gold bliaut and soft new chemise. It had been a long time since she had had such nice things. Brushing off a tear, she mouthed the words “thank you” and hugged her friend again.