Free Desiring the Highlander by Michele Sinclair

her dependent upon him and too afraid to run away.
    And damn, if she wasn’t just that.
    She had actually jumped into his arms, whispering words of gratitude, uncaring that he was a man, that she was demonstrably afraid, that she wanted…no, needed to be comforted. She had allowed herself to become the worst thing ever to be…vulnerable. Well, never again, Scot , Ellenor vowed. Never will I need you or anyone else ever again .
    “Did you say something?” Cole called out.
    Ellenor’s head snapped up, realizing he might have heard her. “Yes, I did,” she barked and pulled off her slippers. “I said damn. Damn this so-called stream, damn these impenetrable woods, and damn you, Scot, for ruining any chances I had at a life.”
    The chuckle rising in Cole’s throat was suddenly stifled as he quickly moved to dodge two slippers being hurled surprisingly close to his head. “You have a strange way of thanking someone.”
    She didn’t answer him directly back, but the words “colossal-sized lout” and “cave dweller” were hanging in the air.
    In less than a day, she had given him more nicknames than had been bestowed upon him in a lifetime. She used his proper name when frightened, called him a hulking giant or lout when exasperated, Highlander when she was being sarcastic, and Scot when her frustration was morphing into anger. And if he wasn’t mistaken, he was fairly certain she had called him an ass at least twice while setting up camp, each time after she realized he had tricked her.
    Any one of these less than flattering labels should have given him reason to take offense and possibly retaliate on some level. Nevertheless, Cole felt no compunction to do either. Just the opposite. Her outbursts made him feel something that he had no longer thought possible. Simple happiness. Not pleasure from accomplishment. Not satisfaction as a result from some deed. Just a strange kind of contentment.
    Ellenor picked up a nearby rock and threw it at him. A second later, she heard it bounce off a tree. She had missed. “ Thanking you? Why, you…you…big, hulking, inconsiderate…giant. For months, I have gone without regular baths and behaved irrationally to the point I offend even myself, forgoing all that I enjoy. And for what? To be picked up and dragged away by a towering Scot and his two faithful companions days away from escape.” Ellenor picked up another rock. This time she threw it into the stream, watching the water splash and settle back down as the pebble sank the short way to the bottom.
    She reached down for a third pebble and glanced behind her shoulder to see if he was watching her. The moonlight revealed that he was. More than that, he was grinning. This time it was a full-fledged grin. This afternoon she hadn’t thought his cheeks were capable of a real smile. And now, Ellenor wished fervently they weren’t.
    The man had dimples. Deep ones.
    If she had been told about them, rather than having witnessed them, she would have thought the idea ridiculous. Warriors as large he was, who had the ability to make a man quake with a single look, didn’t have dimples. And this Highlander was definitely a warrior. His strong and rigid face was not made to be soft and welcoming, but that was exactly what it became when he smiled. Warm and unguarded, and disturbingly disarming.
    His broad and firm mouth suddenly became generous and his compelling blue eyes sparkled with life in the moonlight. Tousled dark brown hair, overly long and slightly curly, recaptured into a ponytail only added to the transformation. The man oozed masculine charm, but at the same time, maintained whatever it was that spoke of his subtle, but substantial power.
    In total, Cole McTiernay was exactly what Ellenor had dreamed all her life a man should be. He was tall, strong, and surprisingly gentle. And when smiling…almost too handsome.
    She was in the presence of one of the most masculine, physically intimidating men she was ever likely to