Desiring The Highlander

by Michele Sinclair

  Ellenor heard the blood pounding in her veins. Her knees trembled. The added stimulus of his finger was almost too much, and Ellenor closed her eyes in wonder. His touch was so gentle she couldn’t believe the pleasure streaking through her. It almost seemed indecent to have a man know her this way. Almost. Her body had a mind of its own, seeming to understand what was happening and reacting naturally. Her legs opened wider and her hips arched, praying for more. One finger twirled at the entrance. It was cruel and divine and she was about to scream, when it plunged into her canal. All breath left her body. Never could she have imagined a man touching her there, being inside her, could cause such ecstasy. She was flying and he had only just begun.

  Being inside her was like dipping into hot, sweet honey and Cole wanted more. Ellenor was so wonderfully responsive. She opened up to him, allowing him access to all of her. What he felt was incomparable.

  He had been with many women in his life. Sometimes he just wanted to feel something other than an all-consuming hollowness. Other times he was there simply to satisfy a basic need. But nothing he had done had ever filled him emotionally as much as merely touching Ellenor. And nothing ever would again.

  He needed to learn all her secrets, sear them into his memory, and never forget this moment. Gradually he moved his finger deeper into her tight channel. She moaned a soft whimper and it nearly pushed reason aside. Forcing himself to move slow, he eased his finger in farther before withdrawing it and delving in again. She was so incredibly hot, and all of it was for him.

  His fingers continued to penetrate, drawing forth her wet heat, stroking the flames until she was half mad, ready for one more. Then he added a second finger and increased his tempo—in and out. Ellenor heard herself cry his name. She wrenched her hands free from his grasp and clung to his shoulders, overwhelmed, aroused, and unable to rationalize what was happening. The world was spinning faster and faster, driving her over the edge. No longer quivering, her body was shaking as it split into pieces. Desire scorched through her, igniting sensations that had no name. Stars erupted from behind her lids and suddenly every muscle went tense. A second later, her frame relaxed.

  Cole held her gently, stroking her hair, murmuring unintelligible words into her ear. It was a while before Ellenor realized she was still holding her breath. The heat of the sweet, hot flame that had scorched through her could still be felt as her body continued to tremble. The feeling was unlike anything she had ever experienced.

  It scared her. She had lost complete and utter control. She had given it all to Cole, trusting him without reservation. He had shown her what it was like between a man and a woman, allowing her to experience what pleasure it could bring, how it could bind two souls to one another forever. And they were bound now. She loved Cole with every fiber of her being and would until the day she died. And she was positive he felt the same about her.

  That was until he sat up and raked his hands through his thick hair.

  Ellenor reached up and kissed the back of his neck, letting her hands slide up and down his arms. “Where are you going?” she murmured. “Lie back down with me. It’s my turn.”

  Cole knew he shouldn’t have started what he couldn’t finish, but he hadn’t been able to stop. With a supreme act of will, he shifted away from her. “No, Elle.” The deep sadness to his tone said more than anything else.

  Ellenor recoiled slightly and then shifted so that she was in view, getting ready to demand exactly what he meant. Then she saw his eyes. Deep blue troubled pools filled with a hunger that matched, even exceeded, her own. That knowledge shook her. He wasn’t denying her…he was denying himself.

  Ellenor reached out and traced the long white scar down his jawline. Cole trembled but he didn’t pull back. The man was desperate for what she had to offer. Not just her body, but her love and understanding. Stark need was etched into every line of his face, but so was the control and self-discipline that governed that need. The man was not ready yet to let go of his past completely, but he was getting closer. He just needed more time. More time to release his ghosts and come to her.

  Standing up, she walked over and collected her chemise. Donning it, she moved back to the bed and sat down in front of him, hoping the simple gesture would show she had no more expectations tonight. She would put no more pressure on him to give more. That what he had offered was enough for now.

  Ellenor cradled his face in her hands and said, “I love you, Cole. More than you realize, but if all you can give me right now is just a piece of your heart, then that will be enough for me.”

  Cole swallowed. She meant it. She loved him. Her hazel eyes were windows into her soul, and there, spinning in an eddy of love and hope, was what she felt for him. No one had ever looked at him that way. It shook his core, and his own feelings for her began to swirl in a maelstrom. He only knew he needed to protect her more than ever, that she was the most important thing in his world.

  And that protecting her meant he needed to lose her.

  Cole gathered her hands and pulled them away from his face. His cheeks felt as if they had been burned with her warmth and understanding, and he didn’t deserve them. “I can’t do this, Elle. I just can’t.”

  Ellenor felt as if she had just been slapped. She only wanted to give him comfort, but instead of being grateful, he was erecting emotional walls once again. He wanted to keep her out, completely out. If she had a piece of his heart, then it was a piece he had never intended for her to have. She couldn’t believe it. Not after what they had just shared. “What do you mean you can’t do this?”

  The soft, shaken whisper tore at his soul. “God, Elle, I want you so bad I am minutes away from throwing you back on that bed and losing control.”

  “Then do it!” Ellenor cried. Tears started to form as it dawned on her what he was really saying. They had not gotten any closer tonight. If anything, he was farther away. “Don’t you understand? I want you, too! I love you. It’s real and it’s rare and I know you feel the same way about me.”

  Cole clenched his jaw and closed his eyes.

  Ellenor leaned forward and brushed her lips against his, leaving behind the cool salty taste of her tears. “I will never love anyone else like I do you. Never. Please don’t do this.”

  Cole’s eyes flew open. He steeled himself against the green despair looking back at him. He would have new nightmares to join his others when he slept, but he knew the pain she was feeling now was nothing compared to what it would be if he stayed.

  “Never is a long time, Elle, a long time.”

  Ellenor pulled back and stared at him, shaking her head in disbelief. She could look for a million years and never find another man to equal him, and by the agony swimming in his eyes, he felt the same. “I don’t understand. I don’t understand how you can walk away after we just…”

  Avoiding her eyes, Cole stood up and walked over to where his belt and kilt lay on the floor. He picked them up and began quickly folding the material around his waist. “Elle, I told you before that you and I had no future. You wanted something tonight. You needed to know you could enjoy a man’s touch and not fear from it. I gave that to you. Do not misunderstand what happened. You are still chaste. You can still marry.”

  A low fury began to boil in Ellenor’s veins. “Do not try to dismiss what happened tonight as pity and do not try to make me believe that it meant nothing to you. I may not be experienced, but I am no fool. You want me, and I am standing here saying that I want you, too! All of you!” She ran over and put her fingers on his hands just as they were about to cinch his belt. “I want to know what it’s like to see the world explode in your eyes and know that it was because of me.”

  Cole stopped and looked down. “And if I do that, Elle, if I bed you tonight, then that will leave me with no choice but to marry you, and I will not do that. Do you hear me?”

  Ellenor flinched, letting go. Cole resumed his dressing. “Why?” she threw at him. “Because I’m English?”

  Cole’s head sn
apped up. “What? God, no, it’s me, Elle! Me!” he shouted, grabbing her shoulders. “I can’t be the man I need to be and love you as well. Can’t you understand that? I can’t be both.”

  “So you choose hate.”

  “I made the choice long before I met you. I made it on the deathbed of my best friend. Robert couldn’t be here and I must do for him what he can’t do for himself. I will avenge his death.”

  Ellenor spun out of his hands and went to stand in front of the fire. “And what does that mean, Cole? When will Robert’s death be avenged? When can you stop hating and start living? When are you going to live your life for just you and not for a ghost? Your friend was a boy when he died, Cole, not a man. Would you ever burden someone as he did you? Never. A man doesn’t do that because it’s not honorable. So how is it so honorable that you uphold a promise made when you were only a boy yourself. It’s not fair to you and it is certainly not fair to me.”

  Cole watched as Ellenor turned to face the flames. The light of the fire flickered through the thin material, reminding him of what was partially hidden. He steeled himself, bent down, and collected his sword. “Fairness has nothing to do with this, Elle. I never lied to you.”

  “If you leave, I won’t hold on to you. I won’t be you, Cole. I won’t suspend my life for someone else. I’m going to be happy. I’ll find someone. I’ll have a family. I may not love him as I do you, but I swear I will be happy. I know now that I deserve that much. You taught me that. I thought I had taught you the same.”

  Cole hooked his sword and pivoted toward the door. He opened it and stepped outside. Just before he allowed the hinge to swing shut, his hand reached out and held the wooden planks open. “After Conor arrives, you won’t see me again.” He paused, drinking in the sight of her one last time. Her back was still turned to him. Her tawny tresses tangled down her slim back. She was a goddess, and it was killing him that she wasn’t to be his. “I wish the best to you, Elle. I mean that.”

  Chapter 9

  Ellenor opened the door to Laurel’s day room and grimaced as all four of the women gathered immediately went silent. Only old Hagatha, Laurel’s midwife and unusual friend, dared to look her in the eye. The woman was built like a cauldron, round in the middle and made of iron. No effort was made to tame her wild, slightly graying red hair. She wore a man’s leine underneath her plaid arisaid, which was tied off with a large leather strap. Living several hours north of the castle, she came down once a week to check on Laurel’s progress. Five days ago, she had decided to stay until the next of the McTiernay line was born, which could be any time.

  Laurel grew larger and more exhausted every day, enjoying only snippets of rest before being roused again by little kicking feet attacking her rib cage. Hagatha was not as nervous as the first time Laurel was pregnant, but the midwife was taking no chances. Lady McTiernay was ordered to rest often, and the old woman kept a tight rein over who visited and when. Laurel practically had to order her to allow Ellenor to be one of those deemed acceptable.

  Ellenor guessed Hagatha was more bark than bite, but didn’t want to put it to the test. She suspected that if the midwife was pushed, her bite could be deadly. Still, the two had made a truce of sorts. Hagatha called her stìorlag, hinting she was excessively thin, and Ellenor let her, even though it was only true by comparison.

  The relationship went from hostile acceptance to welcomed ally the day Hagatha accidentally—or so she had said—witnessed a contest of wills between Ellenor and Fiona. Fiona lost and the midwife had decided that maybe another English exception could be made.

  “So what is the topic of the afternoon?” Ellenor asked lightheartedly to all four women. Brighid, Aileen, and Laurel glanced elsewhere, guilt shadowing their expressions. Hagatha was the only one of the four who refused to look away. The damn old woman had the nerve to stare blatantly back, happily acknowledging what everyone knew. The topic of the afternoon, day, night, and week had been Ellenor. More specifically, Ellenor and Cole.

  Since the night of Laurel’s small party and Hamish’s arrival, there had been only one conversation buzzing about the castle. Too many guests and servants had witnessed Ellenor run into Cole’s arms and his returned embrace. His disappearance to the training fields had not helped squelch murmurings either. Ellenor had had no choice but to ignore them and continue to swear that nothing should be read into what had happened.

  At night, however, when she was alone, she stopped pretending and cried. Only when her eyes could make no more tears could she finally fall asleep. However, slumber was not her friend. Dreams would shift between those with happy endings where Cole declared his love and those of her old and alone, still wishing for him to hold her once more. Every morning when she woke, tired and drained, she swore to herself that would be the last time she would dream of him. Today would be the day she started over. Today she would prove to him, and to herself, that she could be happy without him. Would be happy without him.

  “The same topic, I see.” Ellenor sighed and floated into the room. She sank into the large armchair Laurel had brought in so that all could sit and visit comfortably while she dutifully stayed in bed resting as much as possible. “Can you four find nothing else to speak of? I mean, whatever did you do for conversation before I arrived?”

  Aileen snorted and said whimsically, “Well, it was significantly more boring. Her being with child”—she thumbed at Laurel—“has made the laird overly agreeable so we haven’t even had a good juicy fight to enjoy.”

  Laurel threw a pillow at her friend. It missed, not even coming close to its target. Brighid rolled her eyes and tossed it back on the bed. “I suspect our tongues would be far less active if you were to confess.”

  “What more do you want me to confess? I have told you all that I love Cole. I do. He’s the one that doesn’t love me. He has stated quite clearly he has a life and it does not, and will not, include me.”

  Hagatha twirled the small piece of pine she was gnawing. “You, stìorlag, have it all wrong.”

  Ellenor gave the midwife a side glance and then stretched out with a sigh, crossing her legs and staring at her entwined thumbs. “Really? How’s that.”

  “It’s not a man’s job to catch a woman,” Hagatha said, pulling the stick out of her mouth. “It’s the woman’s job to catch the man.”

  “I cannot think of a single Highland man I have met that would like to think his wife had caught him and not the other way around.”

  “Of course not! That’s why all the brainless women remain unmarried. But I thought more highly of you, stìorlag. Maybe I was wrong.”

  Ellenor stopped twiddling her thumbs and furrowed her brows. “I know what you are getting at, old woman. You think I should trick Cole into coming back to me. Find reasons to go out into the fields and sashay around, maybe even flirt with the other men to make him jealous. I’ve thought of it. I’ve even considered that it could have a good chance of working.”

  Brighid nodded in agreement. “Cole is the possessive type. All the McTiernays are.”

  “I don’t want Cole that way.”

  “Pride,” Hagatha scoffed. “Well, I guess, lass, then you don’t really want him.”

  “The same could be said of Cole!” Brighid declared, rallying to her friend’s defense.

  Laurel drew a deep, audible breath and tapped her blankets, a clear indication she wanted to change the conversation to a less sensitive subject. “Are the twins asleep?”

  Ellenor nodded. “As are Gideon and his brother,” she said, answering Aileen’s unspoken question. Maegan is watching over them and will let you know when they awake.”

  Laurel relaxed. “So if the twins aren’t running you ragged, it must be Fiona. Is she giving you any more trouble?”

  Ellenor waved her hand. “Fiona? No, not a bit. We actually had a long discussion this morning and we each taught the other a new trick.”

  Aileen’s mouth dropped. “You have to be jesting.”

  Ellenor smiled and nod
ded her head. “I doubt Fiona would admit it to anyone, but if you want proof, stop by the kitchens tomorrow morning. There you will see Norah, learning from the best.”

  Laurel’s brows drew together, forming a skeptical expression. “Norah? The smith’s daughter?”

  Ellenor grinned, unable to hide the pride of her accomplishment.

  Aileen leaned forward and said, “Norah has been trying to get into those kitchens for three years.”

  “And she should have been. The girl’s a damn good cook,” Hagatha huffed, aiming her criticism at Laurel.

  Laurel threw her hands up in the air and said, “Fiona and I have an agreement. She works with me on the menu and I stay out of the workings of the kitchen. It has worked well for four years and I wasn’t going to spoil what was hard won between Fiona and me for Norah. Even if she is good.”

  “Well, she has accepted the idea now,” Aileen said suspiciously. “But the question is why?”

  Ellenor met her direct stare and said, “I bet her this morning that I knew something about cooking she didn’t. She bet and lost.”

  Brighid squinted her eyes and asked, “And what would it have cost if you had lost?”

  “I would have been the one in the kitchens working as her helper.” Ellenor kicked off her slippers and tucked her feet underneath her. “But I didn’t lose. And now Cole will have a decent cook who knows a thing or two about running a kitchen when Conor comes with word Cole was selected.”

  Laurel’s eyes widened and bobbed her head approvingly. “That was brilliant, Ellenor. But might you be just a little overconfident about Cole?”

  “I don’t think so. He will be selected. Dugan sounds like a nice man and able soldier, but he cannot bring half of what Cole can. Those clansmen and women know this. They will choose him. They just want to make Cole stew for a while and give him time to think about what kind of laird he wants to be. They’ve proven their point. An army alone doesn’t make a man laird; he also needs the support of his people. Cole knows this, and soon after becoming chieftain, they will recognize he is a leader who cares very much about the welfare of his people. They will be very glad of their choice…especially since the meals at Fàire Creachann will be second only to those of Fiona’s.”