Free Desiring the Highlander by Michele Sinclair Page A

meet. Incredibly, he was also the most honorable. With him, she was safe. And with this man, that knowledge was dangerous.
    Since the moment her eyes had met his and felt a jolt of connection, a sense of awareness she could not put into words, had come over her. With every word, every touch, it had only grown.
    The night her father died, she lost a piece of herself. Since then, Ellenor had not thought it possible to feel connected to anyone or anything again. But here she was, bending over a small brook, stealing glimpses at a Highlander who supposedly hated her, feeling not dead inside, but very much alive.
    Drying her hands off on her bliaut, Ellenor rose and was about to return to his side when her right foot slipped off the smooth rock upon which she was standing. Instinctively, she tried to correct her stance and regain her balance but the uneven ground seemed to reach up and grab her other foot, dragging her down.
    With a gurgled exclamation, she fell in the brook with her hands and rear taking most of the painful landing. Cold water lapped around and over her legs sending shivers down her spine. Her cheeks were already flaming from embarrassment when she heard it.
    Laughter.
    Not small giggles that could easily be stifled, but the kind of laughter that incapacitated one, nearly choking them because of a lack of breath. Cole McTiernay’s head was completely thrown back and he was roaring with laughter. At her.
    Ellenor suddenly felt a desire to end his smug expression with one of her own. Smile, Cole McTiernay. Laugh. But you are about to learn a lesson you will never forget. Never challenge an Englishwoman. Especially this one .
    Waiting until his eyes locked with hers, Ellenor favored him with a blindingly bright smile and stood up. Ignoring the steady drips from her drenched state, she reached down, flicked the emerald folds of her bliaut aside, and grabbed the bottom of her chemise. The sopping, tattered material easily tore as she ripped a sizable chunk from the hem.
    The laughter stopped.
    “Just what the hell do you think you are doing?” Cole demanded.
    Ellenor blinked and pasted on what she hoped to be an innocent expression. “I believe I am about to take a bath , Highlander. Was it not you who said I could take one this evening?”
    “You can’t bathe there. It’s barely ankle deep!”
    Ellenor looked down. “Yes, that does make it more difficult.” She paused and took an exaggerated breath. “And I agree this is far from ideal, but I refuse to sleep with grime all over my skin for another evening. So just stand over there and face the other way. I will try to be quick.”
    Cole opened his mouth to say something but nothing came out. She was already beginning to work the knots of her bliaut loose and any moment would be standing only in her shift.
    Ellenor eased the last loop free from its bonds, shimmied out of the bliaut, and threw it on the bank. With the torn piece of linen still clutched in her hand, she leaned down, dipped it into the cool water, and began to rub her face and neck, washing away the filth and grime. It was as if every smudge represented her life these past few months and she not only had the chance to start anew…she wanted to.
    Cole stood with open mouth, frozen, unable to stop himself from staring. With a large chunk of her chemise missing, her shapely legs were now exposed and the moonlight ensured he saw every inch of them. Cole swallowed, feeling more unsure of himself than he ever could remember. She had a slim, wild beauty about her that pulled at him in a way he could not explain.
    “You’re staring, McTiernay. That tells me either you have never been acquainted with a woman or that I have just managed to put you into a state of shock. Either answer works for me,” she said with a shrug. Unconcealed amusement laced every word.
    Realizing she was right, Cole pivoted and marched over to a fallen log, mumbling curses—all aimed at himself. The damn woman’s soul was