Desiring The Highlander

by Michele Sinclair

  The soldiers that had continued to ride with them had headed straight for the stables and were now disappearing into the hall. A few clansmen were in sight, although nothing close to the numbers she had expected. They were purposely ignoring her and Brighid. Ellenor was about to remark about it when one figure caught her eye. She pointed.

  “Looks like Henri,” Brighid said, acknowledging Ellenor’s gesture. “I guess he did make it here all right. He rode off so crazily I thought we might find him broken and bruised on our way here.”

  Ellenor nodded in agreement. “He appears to be trying to blend into the scenery.” The slight mason was clasping both his hands behind his back and wandering about the well looking at everything…and nothing. Something had happened and Ellenor suspected that whatever it was had much to do with Cole’s rising tension before he departed ahead of the group. She thought back and suddenly knew what it was.

  Ellenor dismounted and waved one of the stable boys to her location. “I just realized we were not—”

  “Look.”

  Ellenor pivoted and saw several men exit the hall. Donald was among them.

  Brighid hopped down and joined Ellenor’s side, letting go a long, low whistle. “Whatever has happened, Donald is furious.”

  Ellenor looked at the man, trying to see what Brighid perceived as anger. He was facing partially away so she could only see the side of him and his mass of red-brown hair hung down, obscuring his expression. “Are you sure?”

  “Aye,” Brighid responded. “His legs are rigid. And look at his hands.”

  Ellenor did look. Donald’s arms were crossed, but his hands were balled into fists. “We weren’t greeted.”

  “Maybe they thought—”

  “No,” Ellenor interrupted, “I mean we weren’t greeted in the mountains. Someone should have seen our approach and ridden out to welcome us. No one did.”

  Brighid turned and stared at Ellenor, her brown eyes large and incredulous. “I didn’t realize…but you are right. No wonder Donald is mad.”

  Ellenor handed the reins to the lad who had just arrived. She gave him a big, friendly smile. “Would you take our horses back to the stable and ensure they are rubbed down and fed?”

  The boy shrugged his shoulders, but took both sets of reins and headed back. Brighid was about to set his attitude straight, letting him know just whose horse he was tending, but Ellenor indicated for her to remain silent. “Let’s find out what has happened. You talk with Donald. Tell him that you need to know where you are to be sleeping. Meanwhile, I’m going to find Cole.”

  “What are you planning to do?”

  “First, I intend to remind him how glad he is that he married me.”

  Ellenor cracked the already opened door to the newly built hall a fraction wider and stepped through. Sparsely furnished, the building looked larger from the inside. The location of the hall must have previously had a similarly sized room, for one wall was made out of stone and in the middle was a large working hearth made to warm a spacious area. Cole was staring into the flames flickering against the cavernous walls of the fireplace, unaware of her entrance.

  Only two other figures were in the room. Both were guards and were standing just a few feet away from the doors engrossed in a heated conversation when they glanced over to see who had entered. Both of their jaws dropped, but before either could signal their laird, Ellenor gestured for them to leave her alone with Cole. Immediately, they retreated outside, leaving her with a very tense and very angry husband. Just as Brighid was able to deduce Donald’s mood from simple stances and slight movements, Ellenor was able to do the same.

  Quietly, she glided over to where Cole was standing and slowly crept her arms around his middle. Instantly, the muscles in his arms and back went rigid, but just as quickly relaxed as she laid her cheek upon his lower shoulder and squeezed.

  He stroked her forearm, which was still clutching his center, and asked, “What was that for?”

  Ellenor kissed his back through his leine and then swiveled around to face him. “Is there anything you love that doesn’t give you a headache?”

  “I’m not sure whether or not I should be warmed or worried by your inclusion of yourself on that list.”

  Her mouth curved mischievously. “Both. But you can relax for now. I think Dugan has you preoccupied enough that you won’t be tempted to try and intimidate me into obedience.”

  “I’ve known for some time that has never worked.”

  “And yet you keep trying.”

  He let go a deep chuckle. It was the first lighthearted sound she had heard from him since their departure from McTiernay Castle. “I just like to see how you will rebuff the attempt,” Cole teased. “Each time it is something different, usually amusing, and almost always it is at your expense and not mine.”

  Ellenor’s mouth dropped open at the revelation. She considered it for several seconds, wanting to refute his claim, but couldn’t. Then, she raised an eyebrow and gave him a half smile. “Hmm. But it got me what I wanted.”

  “And that was?”

  “You, you big hulking Scot. I got you.”

  “Ah, babag, that you did,” he murmured and lowered his mouth intimately over hers, tracing the soft fullness of her lips with his tongue. Her arms stole around his neck and her mouth opened as he continued the kiss, but neither of them moved to deepen its intensity. If they did, both knew neither of them would be able nor inspired to end things before experiencing full release. Instead, they simply enjoyed being with each other.

  When Cole ended the kiss, Ellenor took her time before opening her eyes. She laid her cheek on his chest and just let him hold her. She hoped the simple embrace was helping to improve his spirits, but when she pulled back, she could see by his expression that it had only been a temporary reprieve. His eyes were staring at the fire once again, his mind swirling with the status of the clan.

  “Where’s Dugan?” she asked, trying to make her voice sound only curious, not concerned.

  Her question was met with silence, and Ellenor was struck with the concept that Cole might be one of those men who never included their wives on clan decisions or happenings considered outside their responsibility. The thought horrified her. A life kept in the dark was far from an appetizing one.

  “Have you heard from Dugan?” she prompted again. This time her tone, while still soft, had a velvet strong edge to it. She hoped it would induce an answer. It did.

  “I misjudged him,” Cole stated simply, but there was no mistaking the anger in his staid calmness. He moved out of her arms and offered her a nearby chair to sit in.

  She refused. Cole was distancing himself from her when he should have been leaning upon her for support. He’s new to friendship, a wife, even love, she told herself and forced her jaw to unclench. She thought about hugging him again but knew that, even if he let her, it would not change what he was thinking.

  Licking her lips, she tried another approach. “If that is true, then that would make me a bad judge of your character as well.” Cole’s eyes snapped to hers as she knew they would. “But it’s not true.” Her voice was not loud, but it rang out crisp and clear. “Your ability to read a person is unmatched by anyone I have ever known. My father was such a man, and yet, I doubt he would have recognized the real me as you did the day we met. It scared me then, knowing you possessed the ability to see things as they really are, not just as one presents them to be. Now I take comfort in it and so should you. Don’t doubt yourself now. If Dugan is not here, then there is a reason. Just as there is a reason no one was sent to greet us. Don’t use doubt to decide your course, use facts.”

  “And if I don’t have them?”

  “Then find them, Highlander, and show your people how you intend to rule.”

  Cole reached out and pulled her roughly into his arms. “Elle…” he whispered, his voice raspy with the suppressed emotion he refused to release. “God, how I love you.” And then unable to hold back the desire any longer, he crushed
her to him and took her mouth with savage mastery, devouring its softness.

  Ellenor had been unprepared for the demanding intensity. His tongue was possessive, sensuous, letting her know just what he intended to do. She instinctively moved her body against his, massaging his hardness that was pressing against her, throbbing and demanding release and satisfaction. It matched her powerful need as shock waves of desire flowed through her entire body.

  Cole released her lips and began trailing kisses down her throat, pushing her bliaut off her shoulder, seeking other delights he knew it hid. If it hadn’t been for the knock on the door followed by the sound of it opening, he would have found out. He immediately broke off the kiss and shoved her behind him to fix her dress.

  Ellenor heard footsteps echoing in the room, but it hadn’t registered they were no longer alone. Her body ruled her mind and it was still burning with desire, aching with need for another kiss. The sound of another man’s voice startled her into awareness.

  “Laird, we know what has happened or at least some of it.”

  Ellenor stepped back into view and recognized Liam, one of the men who had elected to settle their wives before moving to the training fields.

  “Explain,” Cole demanded.

  Liam glanced at Ellenor and then did as instructed. “We first went to the fields as you ordered. There was blood, but not enough to indicate a death and it looked several days old. We then followed a trail that led into a gulley. That was where I met Jaime. He was riding here. Fast.”

  Cole’s eyes flew to the door and back to Liam. “Where is he?”

  “Once he saw me, he stopped and ordered me to return immediately and bring you and my lady as quickly as possible.”

  Cole stilled as he assimilated the request. Ellenor felt his body harden and she knew why. Another man, besides him, had dared to dictate her presence. “Someone is hurt, and Jaime knows Hagatha taught me how to handle a needle. It must be serious, otherwise Jaime would have brought the man here rather than request that we ride out to him.”

  Cole’s body remained rigid, but she knew he had heard her. “Go and get what you need. And tell the stable master to make ready all my men’s horses for immediate riding.”

  There was a dangerous softness in his voice. Ellenor nodded and moved to exit the room. Just as she was closing the door shut behind her, she heard Liam say that war had broken out amongst the clan. She waited for a second, half expecting Cole to come out and change his mind about her riding into unknown hazards, but he didn’t. She turned and raced across the lawn to the stables from which Brighid was just emerging.

  Her brown eyes grew round and large. “What happened?”

  “I cannot say, but someone is hurt, and if I were to guess, the person injured is Dugan. At least I hope he is.”

  Brighid frowned with confusion. “Did you say you hope Dugan was injured?”

  Ellenor nodded and continued her march to the stables. “Otherwise, he is a dead man.”

  Just a little over three hours later, Ellenor knelt by a seriously injured Dugan, wondering what punishments the church would bestow on her if she wounded him further by punching him in the mouth. The man had no inkling of just how much he needed to stop talking.

  The ride out had not been an easy one. They had passed the designated training fields shortly after they left Fàire Creachann and didn’t arrive to where the men had gathered until almost two hours later. The ground was rocky and uneven, but it was the tension radiating from Cole that put everyone—including her—at unease.

  Ellenor had thought that once they had found the men and heard what had happened, the hostility brewing in Cole would lessen, but now after hearing the explanations—or the lack of them—the result was just the opposite and she simply wished Dugan would be quiet.

  “It was an accident. He would never have done it. Couldn’t have. We’re like brothers,” Dugan mumbled. He was sweating profusely and it was a cold day. The man was in intense pain, but if Cole could see it—or cared—Ellenor couldn’t tell.

  “Are you saying Leith did this?” The question came from Cole.

  Dugan swallowed and tried again. “I thought distance would help. It did. Ask Jaime. I just went too far. Never thought he would come here. Thought it would give him time.”

  Before he could finish, Ellenor shoved Dugan back down for what had to be the tenth time. The man was panicked and he should be, but right now, she needed him to lie still. “If you move again, I’ll see to it that you’re gagged.”

  Dugan’s eyes momentarily focused on her face and lucidity came back into the blue, pain-filled pools. He stared back at her and murmured, “I’ll lie still.”

  “Finally,” Ellenor muttered and began to inspect his wound. It was deep and fever was sure to set in before morning. She ordered for one of the soldiers to heat their dagger in a fire and then searched her bag for a needle. She grabbed the beverage pouch from Dugan’s hand and sniffed it, verifying it was ale. She poured some over the sharp object to clean the dirt off and then waved for the blade to be brought to her.

  Realizing his hand was now empty, Dugan’s mouth began to contort. Then he glanced at the gash in his lower left side. His face went green and Ellenor couldn’t blame him. The puncture was deep and ugly.

  “I’m ready to die. Made peace with the idea long time ago,” he muttered, his words blurring together. “Just don’t want to die with the laird thinking I’m a coward. You’ll tell him, angel, won’t you? Tell him, I’m no coward.”

  “I’ll tell him,” Ellenor promised just as she finished threading the needle. In an effort to divert his attention, she asked “How did this happen?” just as she pressed the hot metal against the wound.

  Dugan managed to get out the word “spear” before his breath caught in his throat. His mouth pulled tight and a fine white line surrounded his lips. A second later, he was unconscious and Ellenor sighed in relief. It was much faster and easier to stitch a man who was not trying to attack the perpetrator of excruciating pain. Now able to take her time and ensure the stitches were even and small like Hagatha showed her, she sat back and concentrated on her task, listening to Jaime try to fill in the holes of Dugan’s story.

  “We lost one,” Jaime said simply. His voice, however, made it clear how deeply he felt the absence.

  “Who?” Cole demanded quietly.

  “Ferris,” Jaime answered. “He was assigned to watch for your arrival and return each night with an update. When he didn’t arrive by sundown yesterday, Dugan and I knew something was wrong. I sent men to look, but they still haven’t found him.”

  The only indication Cole had heard Jaime was the rigidity of his frame. Ferris had been a boy on the verge of becoming a man. His family had been wracked with loss and therefore had not been excited when their youngest son decided to join Cole and support him as a soldier. Maybe Cole should have said no, but Ferris was incredibly eager and loyal and would have jumped to do any task, including ones he should never have been assigned. Any loss was bad, but Ferris…he was one that would be mourned for some time.

  Jaime felt the full weight of Cole’s silence and felt partially to blame. “I should have expected it. When I agreed to Dugan’s plan, I wasn’t…I wasn’t thinking, laird. I should have realized…I should have…” Jaime stopped himself and took a deep breath to gather his thoughts before speaking again. “Leith’s cooperation goes beyond nonexistent. At night, he was sneaking into camp and building ill will amongst the ranks under my command. Dugan suggested we ride out here until your return. We weren’t hiding exactly, but neither of us thought Leith driven enough to come this far just to cause mischief. Dugan hoped that if his men were kept away from Leith’s bad influences, it would provide the time needed to regain their allegiance not to him, but to me…to you.”

  Cole’s eyes shifted from Jaime down to the unconscious form and back again. He said nothing but waited for Jaime to continue.

  “It seemed to be working or at least things appeared to be imp
roving…that is, until last night. Many of the men felt protective of Ferris and believe Dugan is directly responsible for whatever happened to him.”

  “He’s not the only one.” Cole’s statement was simple and direct and held no inflection, which made it even more piercing.

  Jaime gulped. “Aye, laird. Aye,” he whispered. “Dugan didn’t say much but he was mad, and in the middle of the night, he left with instructions to wait for his return. An hour after sunrise, he rode into camp barely alive with a hole through his left side. It was amazing he could stay on top of his horse. A few men and I followed his blood trail to where it happened, but Leith had disappeared into the hills. It would take days to find him and so I came back to find out what happened and…well, you heard Dugan. I have been able to make no more of his mutterings than you.”

  “Was he attacked by Leith?”

  “Aye. It was Leith and he left enough clues he wanted us to know it.”

  “Or me,” Cole sighed. He looked at the sky and raked his fingers through his loose hair. “Do you believe Dugan has been acting against me or my wishes?”

  “Nay, but nor can I prove that he is a loyal supporter either.”

  “Then we will have to wait.”

  “For him to wake?” Jaime asked.

  Cole looked at Dugan once more. “Or die,” he answered simply.

  Ellenor watched Cole’s expression go void. It went blank as if all emotion had been drained from him. He was distancing himself right in front of her eyes. She wondered how far he would retreat and when he would return.

  Ellenor listened and wished there were something she could say or do, but there was nothing. Cole’s blue gaze shifted and caught her staring at him with questions she wasn’t asking. He didn’t answer them, but instead posed one in return. “Are you finished?”