Desiring the Highlander (15 page)

Carefully, Cole took the bone and threw it into the fire. He laid her down, but when he tried to withdraw, her clutch on his arm instinctively tightened. Worried he might awaken her, he caved in to his own desire and lay down beside her. Donald and Jaime didn’t say a word but quickly followed suit. The party of four was soon asleep, oblivious to the storm as it finally passed over them.

Cole inhaled deeply. Ellenor’s scent lingered in the air. The combination of flowers and woman was driving him crazy. The feel of her pressed up against him, innocent and vulnerable, was a bizarre mixture of bliss and pain. She had burrowed into his side in her sleep, seeking his heat against the chill of the night air. At first, it had been her head on his shoulder, then an arm across his stomach and a leg over his thigh. Finally, her whole body had melded to his side. He had welcomed it all.

She was delicate and soft, and memories of their kiss flared in his mind, sending waves of heat through his loins. Never had he experienced such an overwhelming desire to know a woman. He longed to touch, taste, and enjoy every inch of her body. He wanted to know what she liked, what excited her, and then drive her insane with need. If she had been someone else—anyone else—he might have indulged himself the pleasure.

But she wasn’t.

She was an Englishwoman with a wounded soul, who was just beginning to learn how to trust and be herself again. He would fight armies to ensure she remained free from the hell in which she had been living. But that was only half the reason he kept his distance. One night with her and he would never be able to let her go.

Ellenor sighed and snuggled closer. Cole didn’t move. He couldn’t. All he could do was lie quietly and listen to his blood pound in his veins, thanking God his men had left.

The storm had been intense, but quick. In its wake came warmer air, proving once again that winter was over and spring had begun. Unused to being confined, Jaime and Donald had left to sleep in the open, where they had tied the horses. Cole had been tempted to go with them, but just as he was about to rise, Ellenor nuzzled her cheek against his chest and murmured his name in her sleep. All ideas of leaving immediately ended.

A few minutes later, she shifted again and Cole wondered whether he was in heaven or hell. With a small moan of pleasure, she had just resettled herself so that one of her legs was tucked between his and her hand rested on his torso, just underneath the opening of his leine. The steady rise and fall of her chest pressed her breasts against him, and he could feel the pulse in her neck pounding against his shoulder. His whole body tightened to painful levels with unfulfilled desire, but at the same time, he had never experienced such contentment.

It had been some time since he had tried to suppress his demons through sex and he couldn’t recall ever wanting simply to lie with a woman afterward. Donald had told him once that he enjoyed the mornings best, because when he woke up, his wife was wrapped around him. Cole had thought his friend daft and stated unequivocally he would never feel the same. His bed was his own and he could not imagine ever wanting to share it.

And yet here he was, troubled that tomorrow they would be home and Ellenor would never lie next to him again. His future loomed in front of him and it was darker than ever.

Cole’s arm stole protectively around her. He thought about what lay ahead. Had Conor returned with a decision? Had he been named laird? Did he care? What would he do if Dugan were chosen in his stead? His men needed a home, something long-term. Something Cole had not really considered before Ellenor.

She was so focused on her future, what would happen, the control she would have over her destiny, it had made him begin to think about his.

Like all his brothers, he had a gift for strategy, an ability he applied liberally on the battlefield, but very little anywhere else. The reason had been simple. Life, beyond that of war and fighting, had provided only undesirable choices, and so he had avoided making one. And yet, being laird provided him an opportunity to make improvements not just in his men’s lives, but also in those Highlanders who lived and loved this land as much as he did.

He had treated the decision-making council with indifference and Dugan with disdain. As a result, it might cost him something he didn’t realize until now just how much he wanted. To be a leader. To make a difference.

Ellenor stirred once again. Cole moved his arm to let her move, but instead of turning to her other side as he expected her to, Ellenor sat up and immediately reached down to scratch her leg. With a look of immense contentment, she satisfied the itch. Then she arched her shoulders and threw her head back, causing dark golden waves to cascade in soft knots down to her waist. Yawning, she glanced around the campsite and spied that he was awake, too. A thoughtful smile flickered over her lips before she scooted over a couple of inches and tucked her blanket around her. Cole knew without asking that Ellenor was completely clueless about how she had been draped over him for the past few hours. She no doubt believed their close proximity due to the small area.

“Where are Jaime and Donald?” Ellenor asked sleepily, stretching once again before curling up to hug her legs.

Cole watched Ellenor teeter her chin on her knees and wished for an ice-cold loch in which to dive. “They left as soon as it stopped raining.”

Surprise touched her pale face. “They’re sleeping somewhere out there?”

“Aye.”

“But they’ll get wet!”

“Better than being cramped.”

Ellenor shook her head and rolled her eyes. “Your men are far more unbalanced than I ever pretended to be. I’m glad you decided being warm and confined is much better than cold and damp.”

Cole closed his eyes. If he had any sense at all, he would gather his things, leave right now, and join his men, but the little sense he had possessed fled days ago. Ignoring his inner voice, Cole asked, “What woke you? Another bad dream?”

“Uh-uh,” Ellenor answered, shaking her head. “In fact, I don’t think I have ever slept better. I only woke because my leg started itching.” Reaching down to scratch her calf again, she saw the thorn-bush scrapes and wished for some water to clean them. “I need another bath.”

Cole’s eyes popped open. “
Another
bath?”

“Mm-hmmm. I hate being dirty, and after enduring filth for weeks, I could enjoy a bath every day.”

Cole stared at her to see if she was teasing. His face slackened in open shock when he realized she wasn’t. “Good luck with that.”

Ignoring him, Ellenor pointed out into the darkness. “Is there somewhere nearby where I can at least wash my face and hands?”

“Now?” Cole spit out.

Ellenor nudged his leg playfully with her foot. “No, of course not. In the morning. I want to arrive at our destination looking my best.”

Cole’s scowl deepened. He hadn’t really considered people’s reaction to their arrival. However, if she looked any better than she did already, Ellenor would have more than one open admirer, despite her being English. The last thing she—or he—needed was for her to make any more improvements to her appearance. “You look fine,” he growled.

“Hmm, you woke up grumpy. Aren’t you sleeping well?”

“Well, enough,” he lied.

“Then why are you awake? Bad dreams?” she asked, parroting his own question back to him.

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.