Desiring the Highlander (23 page)

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 snapped 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.”

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 nodded 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.”

“Nice speech, little English. I hope it’s true,” Hagatha huffed.

Ellenor was about to reassert her opinion when a loud banging came from the door. Brighid rose to answer the urgent call. It was a boy, shaking and breathing hard from running. “Milady,” he said panting, his eyes finding Laurel. “We need help!”

Cole slipped into the smithy and stood in the shadows looking out into the courtyard. He had come here often the past few days under the guise of ordering more supplies for his men. All the while, he hoped to spy a glimpse of Ellenor.

She would dart across the yard, sometimes with Fallon, other times with Brighid, usually to the bake house, the buttery, or the storeroom. In the past week, he had seen her visit almost every building in the yard, including the Warden’s Tower, housing the soldiers assigned to protect the castle. The smithy was the one place she had not ventured. Here mostly swords, spears, and other weaponry were made. Odd requests for items such as pots, bridles, and miscellaneous needs came in, but none from Ellenor.

Today she was going from the kitchens into the Star Tower. She looked exhausted and Cole was tempted to visit Laurel later and let her know that Ellenor was being overworked. The pale brown gown she was wearing was new and it matched the color of her hair. Usually, she pinned it back or plaited it, but today she had left it long and loose so that it caught the sunshine as it moved.

For the first couple of days since their parting, he had half expected, half hoped to see her make an excuse to visit the training fields, bring food to his men, or at least casually walk about the inner yard the afternoons his and Finn’s men conducted contests at the castle. But she had stayed away, honoring his request. And the fact that she could burned at him, eating him whole.

The clanking of metal being shaped abruptly stopped and Cole turned around. The smithy handed him a long, thick double-edged blade. Its red tip was turning gray as it cooled. Cole swung the large sword, nodding at its balance. “’Tis good work.”

The smithy nodded and pointed across the yard at the Star Tower. “I wonder what has those two hurrying so?”

Cole followed his finger to see Hagatha and Ellenor rushing toward the stables with a young boy in tow. Neal, the stable master, was ready for them, handing Hagatha the reins to her horse and helping Ellenor mount a large chestnut meant to carry soldiers, not a small woman. Before Cole could step out and stop them, Ellenor grabbed the young boy by the arm and whipped him up in front of her. With a flick of the reins, both women were loping through the gatehouse and out of sight.

The old smithy shrugged his shoulders and went back to his bench, laying the sword down beside several others that were in one of varying stages of fabrication. “Never would have thought to warm to an Englishwoman, even if she could speak my words,” he uttered, regaining Cole’s attention. “But after what she just did for my Norah, I guess I have to. Isn’t hard to look at either, is she?”

“What did Lady Ellenor do for Norah?”

The old smithy eyed Cole. “Don’t you know? Well, I suspect she was going to tell you tonight at dinner.”

Cole didn’t know how to tell the smith that he didn’t eat dinner in the castle, with his men, or anywhere in which he might encounter Ellenor. “Tell me now. I don’t like surprises.”

Grimacing, the smith studied Cole. Finally, with a grunt of resignation, he wiped his brow and said, “My Norah is a good cook, has a natural talent in the kitchen. That Englishwoman—”

“Lady Ellenor,” Cole inserted forcefully.

“Uh…Lady Ellenor,” the smith quickly corrected, “somehow found out about my Norah and, well, contrived a way for the laird’s cook to teach her all about running a kitchen. Says that when you’re to leave for your new home, Norah’s to come with you and keep your men happy. Her ladyship believes good food will help you win over the hearts of your clansmen up there.” The withered man looked absentmindedly at nothing as if lost in thought and then shrugged his shoulders. “Couldn’t hurt. I know I’m susceptible to a fine meal.”

Cole’s jaw turned hard. A good cook was hard to come by and harder to keep. His brother had learned this the hard way. But Ellenor had assumed too much with Norah. It was not her decision whom he took north and gave duties; it was his. He would decide if he wanted a cook and who it would be. She was staying away from him physically, but if Ellenor thought she could worm her way into his life by such attempts, she needed to think again.

“Have that ready for me tomorrow,” Cole ordered the smith and left for the stables. He was going to find Ellenor and order her to cease all plans dealing with him and his life.

The ride out to the far end of the training fields took less than an hour but felt much longer. When the message came that Jaime Ruadh had been seriously hurt, Ellenor had immediately prepared to leave with Hagatha. That Cole might be at the fields had not occurred to her until they were well on their way. Even so, she knew she still would have come. Jaime had been one of the first to be kind to her and she needed to know he was going to be all right.

Arriving at the scene, both women were directed to a cluster of trees. Jaime had not been alone. Almost a dozen men had been hurt, all with deep cuts requiring stitching, something Ellenor had no idea how to do.

Hagatha quickly began dolling out instructions. Ellenor listened and watched carefully, committing all she heard to memory. Those with medicinal knowledge were uncommon and skills in stitching wounds were highly coveted. She had been welcomed into the McTiernay home and had tried to make herself useful these past few days, but she was no fool. Ellenor knew that as soon as Laurel was able to assume her role as Lady of the Castle once again, she would. At that time, Ellenor would have very little to offer beyond friendship. She was no great weaver and her services in the kitchen weren’t wanted or needed. Seeing to injuries may be one of the few areas she could be of true assistance.