Desiring the Highlander (14 page)

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 buried 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.

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 English
man
, 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?”

“Oh, no. As I said before, I don’t have a clue about most weapons, and never really had the desire to learn. Besides, my father never would have allowed it. It was hard enough convincing him to let me ride.”

“And you ride exceptionally well at that,” Jaime complimented.

Ellenor licked her lips. “You earlier hinted the woman Cole’s brother married was English,” she began hesitantly, knowing she shouldn’t care if it was possible. “I didn’t think Scottish chieftains married Englishwomen.”

Jaime shrugged. “It does not happen often, but there is no law preventing the union. Anyway, Lady Laurel is only half-English. Her mother’s people were Scottish, and well, ever since she met the laird, her heart belongs to the Highlands.”

Ellenor had almost fallen off the horse when Jaime said the name. Laurel. It couldn’t be the same person as her friend, but deep down, she knew it was. Laurel Cordell wasn’t dead. Somehow, she had escaped and married a Highlander. Rumors of her supposed death had been false…and Ainsley had known. The man had let everyone think his sister was dead and had fed on the outpouring of sympathy. Then came the day he needed her to take his crazed sister-in-law off his hands, and Laurel, being the kind person she was, had agreed, sending Cole as a guardian and escort.

Now, everything began to make sense. Why Cole could so easily promise she wouldn’t be forced into marriage if she didn’t want to be. Why he would drag an unwilling Englishwoman into his beloved country and into his family home. Why on a dozen other mystifying things—including the reason he had kept the truth to himself.

Cole McTiernay wanted her to be dependent on him, all to keep her under control.

For a long time, Ellenor stayed warm on seething anger as they trudged farther north and higher into the mountains. Eventually, though, it became harder to ignore the cooler temperatures. The afternoon sun began to fade behind dark clouds and with its disappearance came a chilled wind that seemed to seep through her gown and nip at her skin.

She hadn’t realized her shivering had caught Cole’s attention until he rode up beside Jaime and with one deft movement lifted her from Jaime’s mount onto his. Without asking, he tucked her against his chest—something she had been unable to make herself do with Jaime.

Ellenor tried to pull away but caved into her need for warmth and settled back against Cole. The resentment boiling in her had not simmered, but she was cold, and after yesterday’s ride and being ignored this morning, she knew Cole wouldn’t care. She was only punishing herself by keeping her distance.

Ellenor considered letting him know about her discovery and her outrage, but decided that was too easy. He had intended the truth to be revealed at their arrival, and it still would be. Only now, Cole would be the one who was surprised—not she. Envisioning the look on his face when he realized she had bested him once again did a great deal to temper her anger.

Ellenor cuddled against his large frame and sighed. The knowledge her future was secure had not provided the feeling of euphoria she had expected. Safety was important, and when one didn’t have it, it was hard to consider other things. Less than a week ago, she would have believed security alone could have made her happy, but that was before Cole. Now, she wanted more. Security wrapped in a lifetime of loneliness was far from an attractive future.

“Still cold?” Cole inquired. The wind had continued to increase, and up ahead, the dark rain clouds were releasing their mass. The temperature had dropped significantly. It wasn’t quite cold enough to snow, but it would be a miserable, wet night.

“I’m all right,” Ellenor mumbled, blowing into her cupped hands to keep them warm.

“We’ll be through this pass soon and the mountain should block the majority of the wind. Once the horses are better protected, I’ll stop and pull out the plaid for you to use as a cover.”

It was the closest thing to a real conversation he had engaged her in for over a day. She didn’t know why he had now decided to resume a dialogue with her, and fearing he might retreat into silence once again, she decided not to ask. Instead, she snuggled closer to him, marveling at how he could be so warm and unaffected by the elements. “I don’t understand how you aren’t cold.”

Cole gave a halfhearted shrug and then, with an arrogant grin, said, “As you have pointed out several times, I am a Highlander.”

“You are many things I am not, Scot,” she responded righteously just before adding, “including being an exceptional ass.” She hadn’t meant to reference his behavior for the past few days, but her irritation had slipped out. Ellenor held her breath, waiting for his response.

Cole surprised her and laughed out loud. Ellenor joined him and began to truly relax. She had feared admitting her past had changed their relationship and it was a relief he still welcomed her candor.

Ellenor nudged her chin toward the rocky peak in front of them. “Your mountains touch the sky. One can get drunk on such beauty.” A large russet-colored animal with curved horns, shaggy pelts of thick hair, and forelocks so long it covered its eyes snorted as they rode by. “Even your cattle are suited to the weather. Think I, too, will be able to adapt?”

“You’ll conform. Some things you’ll find difficult and others easy, but aye, Elle, the one thing I have no doubts about is you flourishing in my world or any other. You are a survivor.”

Ellenor squirmed. Cole’s compliments were almost harder to take than his insults. “Easy. I doubt anything up here is easy.”

“Perhaps, but then you have already conquered the hardest obstacle.”

“And that is?” Ellenor prompted, wondering if he was serious or being sarcastic.

“Gàidhlig.”

The language of the Gaels.

Ellenor blinked. Cole was right. She hadn’t spoken a word of English all day. While Jaime understood her tongue, he was far from comfortable speaking it. It had been natural to converse in Gaelic and she had just continued to do it. The language was rich with unusual sounds, and though far from the easiest dialect she had ever learned, she had always loved how the syllables rolled off her tongue.

“I was curious. Why do you call me Elle and not Ellenor?”

“Do you mind?”

Ellenor considered his question carefully. Surprisingly, she didn’t mind. She had never been given a nickname, nor had she ever wanted one. “No. It’s certainly better than
babag
. Just no one has ever shortened it before.”

Cole cracked a smile. He liked the idea that Elle was his name for her and not commonplace among her people. “Elle suits you better.”

“Only you, though,” she whispered, burying her face into his chest. “Everyone else still has to call me by my proper name.” Then she remembered what his friends had called her. “Or lass. That works, too.”

The relaxed expression on Cole’s face instantly turned into a scowl. Yesterday’s exercise in silence had done little to quell his memories of her nude in the moonlight, her soft lips pressed against his, or how she held him and trusted him with her fears. She was stirring emotions he didn’t want to feel, so he had retreated, but Ellenor hadn’t. Her willingness to comply with his unstated request for quiet during their ride had not extended to his comrades.

Donald and especially Jaime had become quite friendly with Ellenor in a very short amount of time, and last night all three had been infuriatingly friendly over dinner. Each time they called her lass, he had wanted to intervene. Yet if he had done so, it would have been the same as announcing Ellenor belonged to him. Something that could never be. She had to be just another woman.

Except…she wasn’t. Not to him nor any other warm-blooded man. And after watching Jaime wallow in the pleasure of her company, Cole could no longer pretend otherwise.

Ellenor was exactly the type of woman that appealed to most men. Intelligent, witty, and surprisingly charming. She was gentle and nurturing and pulled at every male instinct to protect her from harm. That combination in itself was dangerous, but she was also beautiful. And seeing her unclothed, fighting a bush for her chemise, he had learned just how beautiful. If any of his men ever made the same discovery, he would most likely kill them. For not only did he feel compelled to protect Ellenor, he constantly battled his need to possess her.

Midafternoon the foul weather turned ugly and the damp mist in the air changed to raindrops soaking anything exposed. Cole and his men seemed oblivious. They had slowed only a fraction in their pursuit of the night’s destination. Ellenor huddled within the blanket Cole had given her, which helped enormously, but she suspected only dry air and a campfire would be able to warm her bones. Neither of which were in the near future unless Cole planned to sleep in a cave.

A couple of hours later, Ellenor was thankful Cole had pushed the small group. The site he had chosen to make camp was probably the single natural dry spot in fifty miles. Two jagged cliffs of rock seemed to defy gravity as they created a semiroof and protection against the elements. Instead of tapering, both grew significantly wider until they met several feet over their heads, creating a patch of dry ground. The small footprint required the four of them to be fairly close together when sleeping, not sprawled apart as they had been, but they would be moderately dry and protected against the rain’s accompanying cold wind.

Ellenor kept Cole’s plaid wrapped around her, but began making dinner, the nightly duty she had assumed. She collected several small branches that had been piled against one of the rock walls from a previous traveler, keeping them dry. After bundling them together, she asked Jaime to light the fire. He obliged before disappearing into the darkness in search of food. By the time he returned with two rabbits and a grouse, the fire was growing and Ellenor was beginning to feel the blood once again flow in her veins. How the Highlanders seemed to move about with only a shirt and a kilt for protection was a mystery to her.

Jaime once again braved the elements and fetched some wild onion and garlic before joining Donald and Cole to take care of the horses. Building a makeshift spit, Ellenor found an odd, bowl-shaped rock a little smaller than the size of her fist. It wasn’t big enough to bake anything in, but she used it to capture the drippings and baste the meat while it cooked. By the time the men returned, the meal was done and, despite the weather, one of the finest all of them had enjoyed in some time.

Conversation had been light, as the storm grew in ferocity. The rain poured down and lightning lit up the night sky every few minutes. Pounding thunder followed. Normally, Ellenor could never have slept through such noise, but emotionally drained and physically exhausted from being cold, she could no longer hold herself upright. Leaning against Cole for support, she fell fast asleep unaware she was still holding the last leg of rabbit in her hands.