“Oh, I will,” Cole answered. Aye, I am going to get to know Henri very well.
Ellenor’s mouth was moving seductively against his lips. His mind was losing the battle and his body was winning the war. He made one last promise before surrendering to their mutual need.
And Henri Jenuard is going to get to know me.
Chapter 14
They had been riding north for three days, and before the morning sun was overhead, Fàire Creachann would be in sight. Cole stared at his wife, riding a few horse lengths ahead with Brighid…and the Frenchman. The man irritated Cole and never more so than when he and Ellenor burbled back and forth in that feminine-sounding gibberish. Cole had heard the language before, but it wasn’t until lately that every smooth, musical word sounded like a dance of seduction.
Ellenor told him he was being ridiculous, but she didn’t see how Henri looked at her. How the men watched her as she moved. And who could blame them? She was breathtaking and becoming more so every day. She had rediscovered her confidence and sense of self-worth, and now her beauty, previously obscured from onlookers with fear and doubt, could be seen by all—not just him.
Donald coughed into his hand, regaining Cole’s attention. “You want me to send a rider ahead, notifying them of our arrival?”
Cole shook his head. “There should be no need.” He wanted to wait and see if Dugan had posted a sentry to lookout for their or anyone else’s arrival.
Laughter rang out from ahead.
“My wife finds your present,” Donald grated, “amusing. I find him to be annoying.”
“As do I.”
Henri was more than annoying, he was clueless. The first day of riding, Cole had sent the man an untold number of contemptuous looks, ranging from disapproving to blatant hostility. And the ùmbaidh—the few times he even recognized Cole was looking at him—would just smile, give a wave, or say something friendly as if he were acknowledging a good friend. It was as if the man lived in his own private world. Consequently, Cole had avoided any chances to get to know the mason better. He could learn all he needed to just from watching him.
The man was tall, but slight, had strait raven-colored hair that he was continually pushing off his face, brown eyes so dark they almost seemed black, and a thin beard that refused to grow in certain patches around his jawline. To Cole, Henri was weak and unappealing, but there was no denying something about the man attracted the opposite sex. As they were preparing to leave McTiernay Castle, several clanswomen had clustered around the mason’s horse, moaning about how much they would miss him. Why, Cole could not fathom.
There was something questionable about a man who always smiled. No one was that happy. And no one ever needed to talk as much as he did either. Henri’s Scot was adequate, but his Gaelic was barely tolerable. He understood the Highland language well enough, but he couldn’t utter a syllable without adding the galling flourish of his own tongue. Cole intentionally cringed whenever he spoke. But did that stop Henri from talking? No. And when he wasn’t grating everyone’s nerves with awful Gaelic, he was speaking French to the one person who could understand him. And Ellenor encouraged him. She listened, smiled, and in Cole’s mind, laughed far too often. He knew the idea of her happiness belonging to him was ridiculous, but Cole couldn’t help the surges of jealousy that overcame him each time the air tingled with the sounds of her delight. He doubted his reaction would be conquered anytime soon, if ever.
The only thing that had kept him sane these past few days was the physical distance Ellenor maintained between her and those around her. Her comfort level being around men had grown significantly in the past several weeks while he had been away, but she still allowed only him to come close enough to touch her. Others would approach, maybe even lean in to whisper, but she would always withdraw just enough to keep contact from occurring. With Cole, though, she was just the opposite. If he was near, her hand would find his, her body would rest gently against him, and each time she would smile, just a little, but it was enough. Cole knew her actions were unconscious, but they calmed him as no words could have ever done.
The pass between the steepening mountains was narrowing and Donald gestured that he was going to ride ahead. Cole nodded, but chose to remain behind in case someone in the group needed help as they traversed the winding path. Ellenor wouldn’t need assistance. On a horse, she was probably more at home than on foot in this wild country, but he still liked to watch her ride.
He had been appreciating the view for almost an hour when a soldier approached on his left. Cole scowled at him for interrupting his favorite pastime. “Laird, Donald requests you ride up and meet with him.”
Cole clenched his jaw and nodded. Urging his horse into a gallop, he dashed ahead of the small group, aware that Ellenor would have questions when he returned. He hoped he had answers.
Half an hour later, he reached the seaside of the Torridon mountains, where Donald was waiting for him. Cole searched for the sentry that should have been posted nearby. No one was in sight, and at the high vantage point, Cole could see the edge of his land and it was clear no rider was on the way.
Donald pursed his lips and asked, “Should we send someone now?”
“Your men still in place?”
Donald raised a single eyebrow and Cole flashed him a quick grin, acknowledging the question was needless. The men—Cole’s personal guard, trained and led by Donald—were exactly where Donald told them to be. Flanking the group on all sides, they were positioned to see and notice not only things inside the traveling group, but outside it as well. Passersby, even when far away, would not go unnoticed.
“Send a couple of men to the fields,” Cole ordered.
Donald nodded, and within minutes, two riders were ripping down the slope of the mountain headed to a valley in the distance.
Ellenor pulled on the reins to halt her mount and looked up. The day’s beginnings had promised warmth and sunshine, but a cold wind had steadily increased over the past hour, bringing with it gray clouds that covered the sky. The thick wet mists hid the tops of the great, colossal beasts they were climbing, giving what some felt an ominous feel about these mountains. Ellenor could not agree. The Torridon peaks were majestic. Instead of frightening her, they pulled her toward them as if they knew her, and were glad she had found her way home.
She waited until most of the group had moved past her before entering another narrow trail forged between the enormous crags that seemed to grow steadily less tame and more crowded with each turn. The pattern of traversing the harsh but beautiful terrain had become routine. Forced in some places to ride single file through the pass, the group would convene and mass together in the next valley, often stopping and allowing the animals a chance to rest and drink. Despite their group’s makeup of women, children, and a few farm animals, their traveling pace had been quite steady and uneventful.
The journey, usually a two-day ride, had turned into just over three and supposedly, by morning’s end, Fàire Creachann would be in sight. Ellenor hoped that was still true. Cole had unexpectedly ridden ahead, galloping at a pace only a highly skilled rider should attempt. He hadn’t said anything, but Ellenor suspected something was not right and she worried for him. A man had only so much fight in him, and if the clan didn’t start cooperating, Cole would leave when his year was up…and she wouldn’t blame him.
Ellenor leaned to her left to stretch her side and then shifted to her right. She was now trailing most of the group and the viewpoint was much different. Tempted to fall back even farther, she changed her mind when an exclamation followed by several gasps and a couple “oh my’s” floated by her. She immediately prodded her mount forward to see what exactly had caught the attention of those riding near the front.
As she weaved through the boulders fallen from a landslide occurring years if not decades ago, a long brown and green slope came into view. The land stretched outward until it met the deep blue of the sea, which seemed to welcome its touch. The shoreline jutted out
to the lapping waters sporadically, and at the end of one narrow neck of land that extended far into the sea was Fàire Creachann. Even from a distance, it seemed magnificent.
Ellenor felt the touch of a leg gently pressing against her and knew immediately it belonged to Cole. “It’s…it’s incredible.”
“Aye,” Cole answered, understanding her awe. “Even your Frenchman is impressed.”
“He’s not my Frenchman, he’s yours,” Ellenor countered, hoping Cole caught the rolling of her eyes. She knew he was still far from excited about Henri’s presence, but she maintained—if only inwardly—that once Henri had arrived and demonstrated his value, Cole would be thankful the mason had agreed to come.
“Elle, if he was truly mine to command, he would still be back at my brother’s entertaining the women there, instead of my woman the past three days.”
Ellenor bit her bottom lip to keep from grinning. Fact was she liked the idea of Cole considering her his woman. Yes, it was a touch possessive, but it also said that he cared. She pointed to Henri, who was doing nothing to hide his enthusiasm or appreciation for what lay ahead. “Well, at least he’s excited.”
“Aye, the little man is nearly falling off his seat.”
Ellenor sighed and was about to protest when Henri suddenly pulled back and joined them. “Laird, just how old is Fàire Creachan?”
“Not old. The keep is three no more than four generations old. Most of the other structures were built in the past few decades, but few were ever completed. Since its desertion, whenever neighboring clansmen or nearby farmers needed stone, they came here.”
Henri licked his lips and nodded absentmindedly. His mind was racing with possibilities. “I’m surprised no one wanted to finish the place and live there until now.”
“Many have and tried.”
Henri cocked his head to one side, reevaluating the view. “The pass? Or the cost?”
Cole gave a quick shrug. The mason was a menace, but he had to admit to some level of astuteness. “Both.”
Henri’s already large smile widened further. “Well, then, Fàire Creachann’s luck has changed for it now has a laird with means and a master mason who is eager to overcome its challenges!” he cried out and kicked his mount in the side. The animal reacted and leaped into action.
“The man is a danger to not only himself but others,” Cole mumbled.
Ellenor watched as the thin body bounced uncontrollably on the overly large steed. She knew Cole had offered that particular animal to Henri because of its enormous size and ungainly footing. Used primarily for plowing and farming, the horse was rarely ridden. And because he was ignoring her warnings to ride slowly, Henri was going to be in pain tonight. “Ha. I bet you secretly admire the fact that Henri has never complained. Not once.”
“Let me be clear, Elle. I don’t admire that man and never will. He could not lift even a boy-sized sword above his head, let alone swing it with any accuracy, which makes him more of a menace than anything else.”
Ellenor kept her gaze locked on the bouncing rider and bobbed her head a couple of times, feigning agreement. “I guess I misunderstood the amount of progress your men made during these past several weeks.”
“We’ll see if a little Frenchman can do more.”
“If he can?”
Cole nudged his own mount forward. “The most he can ever earn from me is my respect.”
Ellenor moved in beside him. “Coming from you, that will be more than enough. And despite what you think, Henri likes a challenge and considers you one. Just give him a chance,” she appealed softly.
Cole scoffed, but he didn’t say anything more. The two riders Donald had sent ahead had come back into view and they were signaling.
The training fields were empty.
The soldiers were gone.
Ellenor could feel the rapid rise of tension in Cole and knew very little, if any of it, was caused by Henri’s presence. No, something else bothered her husband. So when Cole urged his mount to a faster pace, she did not join him. Whatever demons were on his mind, her husband wasn’t ready to share them. Only Donald dared to ride with him, leaving the guard to ensure the group reached the plateau safely.
Ellenor focused her mind and gaze on her new home. The ride toward the promontory looked deceptively trouble-free, but after years of going unfarmed, the land had grown wild again. Rocks and various-sized holes were hidden beneath heather and tall grass, forcing her as well as the others unfamiliar with the territory to maintain their slow pace all the way to the village.
Located on the mainland on the other side of the narrow strip of land that connected Fàire Creachann to Scotland, the village was larger than she had anticipated, but also less developed. Efforts to erect cottages, homes, and shelters had just begun. Most families had only crude attempts at shelter, which would suffice for summer, but in a few months, they would have to have something more substantial. Even these hardy Highlanders could not face a winter here without protection.
The villagers were peaceful, but not overly friendly. Ellenor received a couple of head nods, but no one directly said a word to her. Instead, they continued with their business. Ellenor felt more like an interloper than a welcomed mistress and she suspected it was because that was exactly how they viewed her. She took a deep breath and exhaled, telling herself patience and time would turn them around.
“Milady?”
Ellenor recognized the voice. She turned and saw several of the soldiers and their wives who had been riding with them. She knew most of the women, but only a couple of the guardsmen had dared to talk to her during their journey. Liam had been one of them. “Liam, are you thinking of staying?”
“Aye, milady. The beginnings of what will be our cottage are just across the way, and my wife wants to get settled before the rain comes in. I suspect the others are wanting the same. After we see to our families, we plan to ride out to the training fields.”
Ellenor glanced at the rolling hills toward which Liam was gesturing. They grew in size until they collided with the western edge of a sheer slope that jutted straight into the sky. Its southern border held a gentler incline and contained zigzagging paths, etched out by climbers and riders trying to cross the mountain’s summit. Somewhere between here and there, several hundred of Cole’s men were training, unaware of their return.
Ellenor quickly said her good-byes and then joined Brighid and the handful of remaining soldiers to proceed across the headland.
Most of the strip was fairly wide and stable, but one small stretch narrowed considerably. On impulse, Ellenor stopped, jumped down, and looked around her, letting the rest of the party go by. The day was overcast and the waters far below were churning from a distant storm making its way toward land. As the waves hit the rocks below, the water turned into a white spray, soaring high into the air. The rhythm of the pounding sound mixed with the seagulls’ cries was hauntingly melodic. Again, she felt as if she were being beckoned home.
“Coming?” Brighid called to her.
“Aye,” Ellenor answered and remounted.
Fàire Creachann was situated on an egg-shaped tip of land, which was large enough to encompass two, maybe three McTiernay-sized castles. The sheer drop eliminated the need for a stout curtain wall for protection, but a rock fence that looked to be predominantly waist-high surrounded most of the jagged plateau.
The connecting strip of land did not enable a rider to easily cross from the mainland to the castle. Instead, it dead-ended straight into the headland’s rocky cliff thirty, maybe forty, feet below its edge. There a gateway stood, severely foraged over the past several decades for its stone and iron. But connected to the gateway was a short but steep tunnel constructed from stone, which to Ellenor’s quick inspection, looked to be untouched. Most likely because if one did begin to dislodge any of the carved rocks, the whole thing would collapse, making it near impossible to enter and pillage other supplies.
The tunnel was actually the first of a series, each wi
de enough to allow approximately four riders through simultaneously. And while the tunnels’ height allowed her to ride through comfortably, Ellenor suspected that Cole and some of the taller Highlanders had to crouch a little when mounted.
Brighid, who was riding ahead, exited the final semi-dark passageway and let go a soft cry. Ellenor nudged her horse to continue up the steep incline until she emerged onto a semiflattened piece of land, mostly green stretching out in all directions. Scattered everywhere were unfinished structures that had been completed at one time or another. Only the five towers located at critical edges of the upland were still standing. One tower was a little larger than the rest. It was rectangular shaped on one end and round on the other, had a new door, and looked to be the focus of most of the recent construction. Ellenor suspected it to be the keep.
Makeshift stables and a smithy had been erected along one rock wall between two towers. Cole’s horse along with several others were being tended to by some boys who looked to be no older than twelve. Farther along the wall, on the other side of the tower, were the remains of an enormous building, serving as the Great Hall. Much of its stone had been pilfered and it would take time to resurrect the structure to its former glory. Next to it was a place for a kitchen. There were stones missing but not as much since it was nestled between the Great Hall and the storehouse, which also looked fairly untouched.
Down farther and across the plateau was an enormous well, answering the question about their source of fresh water. Around it were several crude, newly erected structures serving as living quarters. Ellenor hoped one of them was not intended for Brighid.
The only other buildings were a nearly complete hall-like structure made of wood and next to it a small shelter that was a fusion of wood and stone. Smoke was rising from its roof, and Ellenor hoped it was a kitchen and that a decent meal was being prepared for them. Regardless, the building’s existence was a sign of progress. While it would take years to build Fàire Creachann into what it could be, Cole had already done much to begin turning it into a home and a place for people to gather. They had all summer, and with Henri’s help, by winter no one would be without housing.
Desiring The Highlander Page 31