Desiring the Highlander by Michele Sinclair

and body were formed with delicate bones. Her pale complexion, no longer hidden, only accentuated her green eyes, making them appear so large a man could feel his soul get lost in their loch-colored depths. Pale brown hair, the color of dark honey, hinted at a softness that begged to be touched. Together with gently lilting lips and a slim, but curvaceous wild beauty, Ellenor possessed all the features that drove a man wild. And he had been no exception.
    He had forgotten everything. Her being English, his promise, her fears. Standing there, smiling at him with defiance and amusement shining in her eyes, she had been the most beautiful, desirable woman he had ever seen in his life. His whole body had come alive, yearning to kiss her and make her respond to his touch. Honor be damned.
    That scared him the most.
    He had been dead inside for a long time, taking comfort in not feeling anything. Having an emotional connection with someone—especially an Englishwoman—was not something he desired or enjoyed.
    Jaime and Donald had also come under her spell. She had returned to the campsite with her hair brushed and in a new, much cleaner chemise, and both men had immediately reevaluated their unexpected travel companion. Her apologies for her behavior and promise for future restraint and cooperation had gone a long way in winning Jaime’s favor. Donald, while not nearly as enamored, had softened noticeably.
    Without a doubt, Ellenor Howell was trouble.
    Unfortunately, that made Cole in trouble.
    Home never seemed so far away. For the next four days, he needed to find a way to protect himself. Four long days. He doubted he could deal with any more than that and even those would be a torture he had never known.
    Yes, he was in hell. And it was one of his own making.
     

    Ellenor adjusted her position again for what had to be the tenth time in just as many minutes. All morning she and Cole had rode in silence with only the noise of the constant lifting of her legs breaking the monotony. Her body ached from the repetitive movement, but the pain caused by the thorn bushes covering the hills was enough to keep her doing it time after time. The burning sensation in her lower back from sitting rigid and so far forward that she was practically atop the saddle’s pommel was so great she had to bite her bottom lip to keep from moaning aloud.
    The leather seat was large and unusually slender, but it had been made with the idea only Cole would be riding in it. Yesterday’s experience had proved that the only way she could sit comfortably was pretty much on his legs, either mimicking his straddle or sitting across them. After her reaction to him this morning, comfort was not an option.
    Yet it was not her physical situation causing her the most turmoil…it was her emotional one.
    Cole McTiernay had seen her greatest fear, and through a single promise, removed it…and then he had walked away. His oath should have given her a sense of peace. His indifference should have only added to it. Instead, it had only intensified Ellenor’s confusion. Old instincts screamed to flee. Common sense warned her about the follies of reacting on primal desires, especially with this particular Highlander.
    Still, she had to get control over her destiny. This required patience. By the time they reached their destination, she needed to have convinced not just Cole, but his two companions, of her cooperation. Then, she could exploit their resulting trust.
    Ellenor had apologized for her outburst and received a chilly reception. Jaime’s head nod had not been as cold as Donald’s, but they both seemed to believe she regretted her actions. That gave her the hope she needed and Ellenor was positive that, by night’s end, both men would feel significantly warmer toward her. That is, if she could pull off the next part of her plan.
    Hunting, trapping, and catching food were not skills she possessed, nor ones she wanted to learn. However, she did have one secret