Desiring the Highlander (25 page)

Cole pressed his mount into a soft lope, holding Ellenor gently to him to cushion the thud of the horse’s hooves. The afternoon sun was setting and a breeze had been whipping about all day. The moment the sun’s heat disappeared behind the mountains, the wind would be cold, chilling all unaccustomed to its bite.

Veering up the path toward the barbican now in site, Cole began to make plans. First, he would carry her up to his room. Then he would fetch some food and drink and leave orders for them to remain undisturbed. Returning to her side, he would rest beside her, and when she awoke, he would beg for forgiveness, kissing her until she accepted. And this time those kisses would end with both of them deeply and completely satisfied. Diving into the cold loch at all hours of the day and night were over.

Cole entered the yard and headed for the stables. Hopping off
Steud
, he slid Ellenor into his arms and turned eagerly toward the North Tower. He took two steps and stopped.

It had been a good plan. Unfortunately, its existence was short-lived.

“Conor,” Cole acknowledged woodenly. “You’ve returned.”

Ellenor yawned and stretched her arms way above her head, arching her back and pointing her toes. She felt refreshed, and for the first time in days, didn’t feel tired upon waking. Opening her eyes, she relaxed her muscles and exhaled.

A bird was chirping near the window. She twisted her head on the pillow to look in its direction. Her eyes popped opened and she sat straight up. By the amount of light pouring in through the open shade, it was middle to late morning. She had overslept.

Throwing the covers aside, she jumped up and began a wild search for her slippers. A lot of the Highland women refused to wear shoes, but that was one custom Ellenor didn’t anticipate adopting. She noticed Laurel still protected her feet and wasn’t alone. Several other Highland women wore some kind of footwear, including Brighid.

“Where could I have put them?” she asked herself, peering under the bed. Standing back up, she tried to recall her nightly ritual and almost lost her balance.

The reason why she could not find her slippers where she always left them was very simple: she hadn’t taken them off. Cole had. The last thing she could remember was making a complete fool of herself right before committing an even more idiotic act of falling asleep on him.

Ellenor sank onto the mattress and buried her head in her hands. “What was I thinking?” she moaned. “The man must think me an
òinnseach
if there ever was one.”

Only one memory of their encounter saved her from complete disgrace. Cole had agreed that nothing had changed between them. None of her unwitting actions had made him pity her. She would rather suffer alone than endure life with a miserable man at her side. She wouldn’t do it, and thank God, she had avoided that situation.

Rubbing her scalp brusquely, Ellenor sat back up and got off the bed. She washed her face, quickly plaited her hair, and donned a new chainse and bliaut. Yesterday’s gown was over the chest, covered in dried blood—a cold reminder of yesterday’s horrific accident. She would ride out and see Jaime and the rest of the men to make sure all were recovering, but first she had her chores, of which she was extremely behind in executing. Both cook and steward would no doubt give her an earful for being tardy, but she would just have to endure it.

Dashing down the stairwell, she exited the structure and headed straight for the Star Tower. When she had climbed to the fourth floor, her chambermaid pointed to the floor above her. “Her ladyship is still asleep.”

Ellenor sighed in relief, glad Laurel had not been waiting for her arrival.

Moving to the door once again, the chambermaid again bobbed her finger upward and whispered, “Her ladyship’s in the solar.”

Ellenor gave the young girl a strange look and then shrugged her shoulders. Maybe Laurel was missing her husband and wanted to be close to his things. Ellenor certainly understood the compulsion. Everything in her room reminded her of Cole. Especially the bed. Even after several days, the pillows still held his scent, both a comfort and torturous reminder.

Descending the staircase, Ellenor began to contrive counterarguments in preparation for the confrontation she was about to have with Fiona and probably Fallon. Both were going to enjoy lording her tardiness over her. Swinging out into the inner yard, Ellenor aimed straight toward the kitchens, intending to get the worse of the two out of the way. Mentally rehearsing a small speech, she didn’t see the enormous soldier emerge from the armory. She collided directly into the giant.

Grimacing, Ellenor gave him a withering stare and then swiftly moved around him. She took two steps and then a bellowing sound erupted from behind her. “You!” the hulking soldier hollered. “Look where you are going or next time you might find yourself flattened or even worse, dead.”

Ellenor came to an abrupt halt, pivoted, and marched back. The hairs on the back of her neck were standing upright. The insult was unappreciated, but after she had spent the past week issuing constant reminders about not yelling in the courtyard, especially in the morning, Ellenor was in no mood to be reprimanded for
her
actions.

“Cum do theanga ablaich gun fheum!”
she ordered, waving her finger at him.

Conor stared at her in complete shock. The woman had actually called him an idiot and told him to shut up in his own home. “Listen here,
amaid
!” he began at the top of his lungs.

“You big, giant oaf of a man,” she hissed, cutting him off. The Highlander rivaled Cole’s height and had similar dark hair, but instead of blue eyes, his were a cold gray that held no compassion. “Is it impossible for you Highlanders to do anything but holler? You will stop it right now or I will wallop you until you cannot speak for a week, you overgrown
thòin
.”

Conor felt his mouth drop open in astonishment. Only his wife ever spoke to him in such a manner, and then she had learned to do it in the privacy of their bedroom and
not
in public.

Ellenor ignored the dumbfounded look and pointed to the Star Tower. “Your chieftain’s lady is asleep right now, in one of those rooms above your head. Do you have any concept of how hard it is to ensure she gets her rest? It’s been damn near impossible. And every time she hears one of you soldiers bellowing, she uses it as an excuse to leave her room. I have two sleeping babies, a grumpy cook, and a sour steward, so what I
don’t
need is another overgrown giant underfoot. So if you have any brains to match those large muscles, turn about and do you duties, soldier,
without
disturbing her ladyship! Or I promise, I will tell the laird when he returns exactly what you and your fellow men…”

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Conan pop out from the North Tower. He was waving to her but she ignored him, focusing on the mammoth in front of her. His gray eyes no longer possessed the frigid coldness they had just moments before. Now, mirth reflected in the silvery depths, causing her ire only to deepen.

Conan arrived at her side, but before he could utter a word, Ellenor cut him off. “Just a minute, Conan. I am having to remind one of Cole’s men—”

Conan chuckled, and unable to help himself, he grabbed Ellenor by the waist and swung her around. “He is not one of Cole’s men.”

Ellenor punched his shoulders. “Conan, put me down.”

“But I have been waiting all morning to see you! You are just the one who can help me,” Conan said happily, finally letting her back down. “Besides, someone had to properly introduce you to my oldest brother and our laird. Conor, meet Ellenor, a superb scholar and extraordinary wit. Ellenor Howell, meet the fiercest of all the McTiernays, Conor.”

Ellenor gulped and squeezed her eyes shut, considering the idea of just going back to bed and staying there until next year.

Conor watched the young beauty with amusement as she slowly reopened her eyes. She was still holding on to Conan’s arm for balance, unaware of the effect it was having on his younger brother. Conan wasn’t the only man who had fallen under her spell.

When Hamish had returned with news that an Englishwoman had been invited by his wife to stay at the castle, Conor had not been thrilled. His loyal guardsman, on the other hand, had been very vocal about how eager he was to return and spend time with the exceptionally bonnie visitor. Seeing her last night and again this morning, Conor could see why. Her lithe body, long hair, and angelic face were unforgettable combinations. Years of experience had taught him that unmarried, pretty women caused trouble among the ranks. And Ellenor was just that…trouble.

He had been prepared to find her later this morning and send her back from wherever she came. What he hadn’t planned on was liking the Englishwoman.

Few things could quickly earn his trust and support. And that list dramatically dwindled to naught if insulted. The Englishwoman stumbled across the one exception that would not only keep her on the premises, but make him one of her allies. Any woman who was willing to dress down a man twice her size to ensure that his wife and child were well was worth tolerating, even if she was exceptionally pretty.

Conor pointed to the kitchens behind Ellenor and said in an exaggerated whisper, “I believe you were headed there before I started all my bellowing.”

Ellenor felt the sudden rise of color filling her cheeks. The man had the same satisfied look Cole did when he thought he had bested her. Well, this McTiernay needed to learn that she never backed down from a challenge. Even when she ought.

She cocked a brow, dipped her head in respect, and just before she turned to walk away, broke into a friendly smile, and said in English, “I
was
headed there, but only because I had not known you were home. I am sure you have your own ways of running things when Laurel is unavailable and I certainly wouldn’t want to interfere. The kitchens are all yours. Welcome home…laird.” Then she casually retook Conan’s arm and said, “I believe you wanted to show me something. Seems my morning and afternoon are now completely free.”

Cole closed the door to the Lower Hall and weaved his way back to his chair. The long narrow, rectangular room was well lit with large arch-shaped windows and fires burning in both braziers located at opposite ends of the hall. Most of the tables were still erected with benches and stools scattered from where many of the soldiers had enjoyed last night’s dinner. The high table was at the far end of the room close to the fire with several worn, padded high-back chairs askew around one end. His drink was sitting in front of one of them, just where he had left it.

He had been nursing a mug of ale when Conor started bellowing outside. At first, he had ignored the commotion. It wasn’t typical of his brother to yell at someone first thing in the morning, but then again, it wasn’t atypical of him either, especially since Laurel had entered the later part of her pregnancy. His anxiety over her welfare spilled over to everything. Cole wondered if he would be the same.

A loud gasp coming from a servant standing near the entrance caught his attention, and he realized it was not just anyone challenging Conor. It was Ellenor. And the scolding she was issuing was going to get herself thrown off McTiernay lands, if not belted across the cheek. Cole had never seen Conor hit a woman, but then no woman had ever dared to tell him to shut up right before calling him an ass, an idiot, and a few other less than flattering terms.

Cole immediately headed toward the door intent on rescuing her. He had just stepped outside when he saw Conan swing her about the yard. A surge of jealousy coursed through him.

He had never seen his younger brother smitten with any woman, and it mattered little that Ellenor didn’t reciprocate Conan’s interest, Cole was still resentful. She was his. Granted no one else knew that yet, but it didn’t dampen the sense of possession swelling in him seeing another man’s arms around her, holding her, discovering just how good her hair smelled.

Balling his fist, Cole took another step toward the three of them, prepared to play hero and save her from the humiliation she was obviously experiencing. Then she spoke and the world stopped for a brief moment.

Ellenor had done the near impossible. She had stunned Conor into silence and, at the same time, quelled his own need to pummel Conan.

Cole crossed his arms and rocked back on his heels, his face breaking into an enormous grin. Finally, someone else knew what it was like dealing with her. The woman was bold and audacious, driven by a fierce competitive streak, and living with her would be forever frustrating. But seeing the dumbfounded look on Conor’s face as she turned and strutted away was worth all that he would have to endure.

Cole poured himself a mug of ale and waited for Conor to join him. They had met briefly the night before when his brother had imparted the council’s unusual request, giving him until this morning to think over his decision.

Accept the terms or decline lairdship. And there were many reasons supporting both choices.

Cole took a swig of the dark beverage just as the entrance doors swung wide open, banging against the walls. He glanced at the stomping figure approaching. It was Conor, who had gotten over his stupefaction and was struggling for composure. Cole couldn’t tell if his brother was mad or in awe.

Marching over to where Cole was sitting, Conor grabbed a mug, poured himself some ale from the pitcher Cole had been using, and plopped into the big chair at the end of the table. “That woman…” he growled, pointing his finger toward the courtyard.

“Aye, she’s that,” Cole agreed and took another swallow.

“Is the most aggravating, infuriating woman…”

“Aye, and you have not seen anything,” Cole cautioned and tipped his mug before taking another swig.

“Laurel says you were the one who brought her here. Must say I was surprised.”

Cole glanced at his brother. “Don’t bother mocking me. I’ve seen how successful you are when Laurel wants something. I was still refusing to go when I found myself halfway there. But in my defense, your wife had failed to mention it was an Englishwoman I was collecting from her brother.”

“Sounds like you have had quite an experience with the wench.”

Irritation flickered briefly in Cole’s eyes and he reached for a bowl in the middle of the table. “She stank and saw everything as a challenge. She was annoying, but
never
,” Cole asserted, grabbing a slice of bread left over from the previous meal, “was Ellenor Howell a wench.”

Conor leaned back in his chair. “Toss me one of those,” he said, eyeing the bread. Cole pitched him a slice. Conor easily caught it. “Well, she’s still bossy,” he said, taking a big bite. “And based on what I just saw, it seems you taught her how to look like a woman again, maybe a little too well.”

The idea took Cole by surprised and he began to cough on a piece of bread. He cleared his throat and downed the rest of his ale. “
Taught
her? Hell, I didn’t teach her anything. She
decided
to act crazy and then
decided
to be normal.”