Desiring the Highlander by Michele Sinclair Read Free Book Online Page A

threaten to gag her, but deep down he knew he wouldn’t.
    “McTiernay. My name is McTiernay,” he said with resignation. A look of satisfaction crept into her green and gold eyes and he almost choked again. She actually believed she had won this battle.
    Ellenor licked her lips. McTiernay .
    She rolled the name around in her head, but did not recognize it. She had heard of most of the clans on the border from either her father or Ainsley, and that name had never been among them. He could be from a smaller clan she had never heard of, but instinct told her otherwise. This man came from much farther north. He was one of the Scots who had driven Edward I crazy with their fight for independence. A fight she secretly endorsed.
    “And so are you the only McTiernay or are there others in your clan?”
    Cole shot her a strange look. “There are others.”
    “And…” she prompted.
    “And what?” Cole asked, confused as to what she was asking.
    “Your name!” Ellenor huffed. “What is your name? Not your clan’s. You know…like Elmer Harold Ludlow of the clan McTiernay,” she offered, intentionally using the most English-sounding names she could think of.
    He immediately stiffened and Ellenor thought for a second her ploy might work. Then he glanced down at her with eyes so blue they compelled one to stare into them. They held not annoyance. Instead, amusement glittered back. The beast actually thought her attempt at provoking him into an answer was funny.
    Well, prepare yourself, McTiernay, for if you won’t tell me your name, I think I just gave you one . Her inner dialogue did nothing to remove the look of triumph in his eyes, but it did make her feel better.
    Wrenching her gaze free from his, Ellenor stared at the opening of his leine. The breeze caught his shirt and she could see the spattering of dark hair across his chest. It looked silky to the touch. She tried to look elsewhere, but his shirt continued to billow and her eyes were drawn to the inviting V the hairs created down the length of his torso. His stomach was rippled like the rest of him. Muscles on top of muscles. As male physiques went, McTiernay had one of the best she had ever seen.
    “See something you like?”
    Ellenor’s head snapped up, realizing she had been caught. Refusing to admit defeat, she coyly replied, “If you mean something I would like to pummel, then yes. I see something I like.” Then she squeezed her eyes shut and tried once again to figure him out.
    The one question that kept cycling through her mind was why . Why would a man—especially this one—travel all the way from northern Scotland to haul a crazed woman back with him? But then again, she wasn’t crazy, and he had known that from the beginning.
    Ellenor opened her eyes and caught him looking at her. She cocked her head to the side, moved to cross her arms, and grimaced as she was reminded of her bound wrists. She took two deep breaths and said, “You know I am not mad.”
    “Aye.”
    “If you knew I was not mad, why did you not say so to the baron?”
    Cole shrugged. “Because it would have changed nothing.”
    He had looked at her when he answered, not just passively, but deeply, as if he wanted her to understand that she was coming with him. She could fight it, but she would lose. A sharp retort came to her tongue, and yet, she couldn’t utter it. Something in those sapphire depths held her captive, a suppressed warmth she had not expected to see.
    This man felt deeply; he just didn’t want to. He had learned how to cut off his emotions and she imagined very few had ever gotten close enough to see something other than a remote coldness reflecting back at them. Ellenor wondered if her own eyes mirrored the same kind of pain.
    “I think you find me handsome.”
    If it were possible, Ellenor would have throttled her own throat. That was twice in less than a handful of minutes he had caught her staring at him. “Not at all,” she lied. “I was simply curious