The Highlander’s Rescued Maiden by Anna Campbell

Chapter 5

Will studied his lovely companion in the candlelight. They shared the window seat in the study, the place he’d realized was the heart of this rugged tower. The room with the books and the musical instruments, and the desk where she wove the astonishing creations of her mind. The remains of their dinner littered a small table, and they were finishing the fine hock he’d chosen to accompany the chicken and ham pie.

Well was this lassie called Fair Ellen. He’d spent the day conscious of her beauty in a way he couldn’t remember experiencing before. By now, he’d reached a point where he hardly noticed the limp that had seemed such a tragic misfortune when he’d first seen it.

She’d been so self-conscious about her lameness, but as the hours together passed, she became easier in his company. He liked that. When she abandoned her wariness, she was charming company, interesting, clever, curious. It was a shock to realize that this day trapped on a rock in a roaring sea was one of the most pleasant he could remember. And in contrast to Ellen’s, his life had been full of agreeable experiences.

“I think the storm will continue tomorrow, too,” she said, staring into the murky darkness. He suspected that she spent a lot of time sitting here, looking out across the sea she could never cross.

“That wind might even be stronger than it was.” He’d become accustomed to the raging gale and the ocean pounding at the foot of the cliff. The Isle of Skye sheltered Achnasheen from the worst of the weather, so this fierce wind from the Atlantic left him awed.

And grateful.

The tower was stout and well-built. Not a breath of a draft squeaked through the stones to disturb the firelit warmth. But it would be impossible to venture out on his boat tomorrow. Nor would Ellen’s jailers be able to make landfall.

For at least one more day, this woman was his.

She must share the same thought. That had happened several times today. Will would find her voicing a notion that crossed his mind, as if taking up a conversation they were already having. “You’re stuck here.”

He smiled. “I couldnae be marooned with anyone more charming.”

Her glance was unimpressed, although he’d been sincere. He thought back to what he’d heard of her, not least from his muddleheaded cousin. The girl in the legend had sounded like a brainless doll. The real Ellen had considerably more backbone, and a sardonic sense of humor that he appreciated. She was devilish pretty, but more than that, she was intriguing.

“Let’s see if ye feel like that after a week.”

It might be insane, but at this moment, the idea of a lifetime cooped up with Fair Ellen of the Isles sounded like an invitation to paradise. “Is that the longest a storm has lasted?”

Looking pensive, she sipped her wine. “Christmas two years ago, nobody could get a boat off the island for a month.”

He rubbed his hand over his newly smooth chin. Earlier, he’d unlocked that stout door and gone outside to retrieve some of his belongings from the Leumadair, including his shaving tackle and a clean shirt. He’d also taken the opportunity to pull the craft higher up the beach and under an overhanging lip of rock. “Were ye on your own then?”

“No, Susie and the men-at-arms were trapped, too.”

“Did ye run out of food?”

Her quick smile made his heart jump and jerk like a salmon on a line. In repose, her face was as pure as a marble angel’s. When something caught her attention, her expression awoke to sparkling life. “Are ye afraid you might starve?”

“We can always eat Buttercup.”

Ellen gave a horrified laugh. “Poor Buttercup.”

Buttercup was the milk cow in the byre behind the hill. He and Ellen had twice braved the weather to tend her. They’d also fed the hens providing the tower with fresh eggs. Will’s first quick reconnoiter of the isle had missed the sheltered hollow containing the livestock.

“There’s nothing left on the boat. Even if I hadn’t eaten it already, the food I packed for my day’s sailing wouldnae quite meet the standard of tonight’s dinner.”

“Never fear. There’s plenty to eat, although we might end up living on scones and potatoes, if this wind goes on too long.”

“Buttercup is safe?”

“Aye, she is.”

A silence fell, surprisingly companionable, given how he ached to kiss his glorious companion.

“I admire ye,” he murmured after a while. He reached forward to place his empty wineglass on a mahogany table, then rested the back of his head against the window. Behind him, the wind whistled with a ferocity that should worry him, except that right now he hoped it blew until doomsday. “You’ve turned adversity into a kind of Eden.”

As she stared into her wine, her lips turned down. She’d partaken more sparingly than he had. “It’s a lonely Eden.”

He was damned sure it was. “Were ye never tempted to throw yourself into a suitor’s arms? If only for a change of scenery.”

Her hissed exhalation conveyed her poor opinion of that idea. “No.”

Will studied her, desperate to understand what went on in her head. Her circumstances were unusual. Hell, they were so unusual, he found it hard to get his mind around her bastard of a father’s medieval solution to his daughter’s infirmity.

But aside from her bizarre circumstances, she was an unusual woman. And one of exceptional courage. He tried to imagine mustering the mental fortitude to endure ten years’ imprisonment here. He wouldn’t have borne Ellen’s travails with nearly her spirit.

“Ye could have left Bortha and found the things that give most women joy. A husband. Children. Friends. A chance to run a home.”

“A man to push me around. A family to be disappointed or embarrassed that I’m no’ perfect. A crowd of people to point and whisper about curses from the devil. I’ve already suffered that, in my father’s house.”

Ah, the limp. Will might have come to disregard it, but the wound her father had inflicted when he’d repudiated her continued to suppurate. “They cannae all have been scoundrels, the suitors.”

Her stare burned. “I suspect any who werenae scoundrels were idiots.”

A brief laugh escaped him. “Which category do I fall into?”

The sharp intelligence behind her inspection made him squirm. All day, he’d resisted mentioning his desire, because he wanted her to trust him. But they both knew that if she gave him the slightest encouragement, the fragile barriers of propriety would dissolve.

“You’re no’ an idiot.”

He gave a grunt of appreciative amusement. “So I’m a scoundrel?”

Those ice-blue eyes continued to delve into his soul. “Are ye?”

“Nae more than most men,” he said lightly. His voice lowered into seriousness. “Do you no’ want a husband and children? Love?”

The last word hung in the air as if written in letters of fire.

Ellen frowned as she stood. “What the suitors offer isnae love.”

“That doesnae mean it could never become love.”

“Even if I was tempted, ye forget my father has stationed men-at-arms to guard me. They’re no’ here just to keep foxes out of the henhouse. They’re here to make sure the hen stays in the coop.”

“No man-at-arms ever expressed an interest in ye?”

Her gesture was dismissive. “They ken the truth about Fair Ellen of the Isles.”

His lips compressed. How he wished her dolt of a father was here so that Will could give him a good kicking. What harm his callous rejection of this lovely girl had done. “That she limps?”

He caught a flicker of what looked like shame in her eyes. “Aye.”

“Do you think that makes ye unappealing?”

“Aye.”

“Then you’re mistaken.” He rose. “You’re a treasure.”

“Because of my face.” She sounded bitter. He’d already gathered that she loathed her beauty almost as much as she loathed her limp.

“Aye, you’re beautiful. But you’re more than just a bonny lassie. E.C. Cameron merits respect.”

“Perhaps,” she said, clearly unconvinced. She went on before he could argue. “There was a young man who developed a tendre for me. It was all very innocent. When he saw me, he’d get into such a blushing mess that I dinnae think he said more than two words to me. He used to bring me flowers. But the guard who shared his duties must have told Papa, and my admirer stopped coming to the island. After that, the guards were all older men.”

“Nae stolen kisses in the heather?”

It was a risk to mention kisses. He didn’t want to frighten her. They were here alone, and if he had even one ounce less honor, she’d be in danger.

Ellen raised her chin in defiance. Will was delighted to see that she didn’t look afraid. Perhaps she’d started to trust him a little. “We shouldnae talk about kisses.”

“As ye wish,” he said, without looking away. Because even if they didn’t talk about kisses, he thought about them. He had a sneaking suspicion that she thought about them, too.

He knew what it meant when a lass sent a lad those fluttery sideways looks and when excitement vibrated in her voice. Ellen was aware of him as a male, although whether she meant to act on her attraction was altogether another question.

Could he persuade Ellen to run away with him? He couldn’t force her to choose freedom, but the lass who had the courage to establish a purpose to her life on Bortha should be brave enough to snap her chains.

Another silence fell, this one resonant with unspoken desire. As he stared into her eyes, the blue darkened and her breath accelerated until her lovely bosom swelled beneath its pretty floral bodice. A white lace scarf crossed over the front preserved her modesty, but did nothing to hide her delectable curves.

Ellen inhaled with an audible gasp and turned away to stare at the table. “Would ye like more wine?”

“No, thank you.” He remained stock still, afraid that if he dared to approach, she’d take to her heels.

“In that case, I’ll…I’ll clear up after supper.”

Devil take it, she planned to take to her heels anyway. What a swine he was, for scaring her.

“Must ye bring a delightful evening to an end? I promise I’ll behave.” He backed away to sit on the window seat. At his tacit retreat, the line of her shoulders eased.

She twined her hands together at her waist. “Will ye…will ye tell me more about Achnasheen?”

Will stretched his legs out and adopted a casual air which in no way reflected his interior turmoil. “If ye like.”

“It sounds like a lovely place.”

“Aye, the most beautiful I know. I say that with authority. I made the grand tour to Italy and France when I was twenty-one.”

“Italy?” Curiosity brightened her eyes. “Oh, how lucky ye are.”

“Aye.” And more aware of his good fortune than ever before, now he’d met Bortha’s gorgeous captive.

“Will ye tell me about Florence?” She ventured back to settle beside him. “And Venice. And Rome.”

He laughed. “Perhaps no’ all of them tonight. I may need to entertain ye for a month, after all.”

To his relief, she laughed, too. “I’m sorry. I’m so eager to hear.”

All amusement abandoned him. “Dinnae apologize. You’ve had so much stolen from ye. If my travelers’ tales provide a moment’s pleasure, I’m happy to oblige.”

Ellen’s shining gaze had him struggling to ignore all thought of kisses. Instead, he did his best to summon up his memories.

***

The candles burned down, and the delicate clock on the mantel chimed two. Will paused in his recounting of a clash with bandits in the Apennines. “Ye must be cursing me to Hades. It’s no’ far off sunrise.”

Ellen had her back against the wall at the end of the seat, and she’d curled her feet under her. Another bottle of wine sat half-full on the table. He’d gone downstairs a couple of hours ago to fetch some claret.

“That was lovely. Ye made me feel like I was with you every step of the way.” Her smile was tired, but happy. “You should take up writing.”

He shrugged, pleased to give her an interval of ease. Nor had the conversation been all one way. It turned out that the packed bookcases included folios of engravings depicting many of the places he’d visited. “I could never compete with your talent.”

“Thank ye.” With a shyness that he found enchanting, she lowered her eyes. But then, he found everything about her enchanting. Powerful magic had him in its grip.

“You ken I admire your work. I hope you’re going to show me more.”

“After I thank you for bringing the world to my doorstep.”

“It was my pleasure,” he said, surprised how sincerely he meant it.

He’d been disappointed when she’d skittered away from his attempts at flirtation. But he couldn’t regret seeing the way she’d blossomed during the conversation. To think, an evening of mere talk with Ellen Cameron was more enjoyable than tumbling Italy’s most famous courtesan.

Will waited for Ellen to stand up and leave, although he’d give anything to extend the evening. Despite the late hour, he wasn’t tired at all. Stimulating talk kept him alert. Stimulating talk, and the endless, lazy swirl of desire in his blood.

Right now, his craving was more pleasure than pain. He’d accepted that Ellen had no intention of satisfying him tonight. Even knowing he was a thousand miles from possessing her, he found a piquant enjoyment in his hunger. Two days ago, he’d had no idea she existed. At this moment, he couldn’t imagine spending an hour away from her. That was the miracle of attraction.

She didn’t make any move to leave. Instead, she stared into the stygian blackness outside. Rain spattered the window, and the wind shrieked. If Will had a choice, he’d make it shriek until Christmas.

Staring at her, he stored up the details of her beauty. No wonder she’d sparked a legend. Her loveliness was breathtaking, especially now when her characteristic wariness faded and her expression turned soft and wistful. He guessed that she was picturing all the places he’d described. Feeling the warm Italian sun on her milky skin. Tasting ripe peaches from the trees of Umbria. Floating down the Grand Canal at sunset in a Venetian gondola.

He already knew she had a powerful imagination. It had transformed her old nurse’s bedtime stories into vivid fiction.

Right now, Will was content to be on Bortha. Nothing in Tuscany compared with Ellen’s delicate face, the glow of her eyes, the sheen of candlelight across her tumble of golden curls.

She knew he watched her. Although she avoided his eyes, rose lined her slanted cheekbones. Then he realized that she watched him, too. The darkness outside meant that the window reflected a perfect copy of the two of them on the window seat.

Well, that was interesting. It seemed that he fascinated her, too, perhaps as much as she fascinated him.

But he respected her reserve. For pity’s sake, yesterday she’d been ready to shoot him. He’d come a long way since then. If he was any judge of weather – and women – he’d make further progress tomorrow. During what remained of the night, the storm wouldn’t abate.

“There havenae been any kisses.” Her voice was so low that he had to lean forward to hear her.

The unexpected mention of kisses set his blood thundering. “With your lovelorn guard?”

She turned away from the window and brooded down to where her hands performed a fluttery dance in her lap. “No’ with…anyone.”

Shock crashed through Will. Although he should have realized. “You’ve never been kissed.”

“No.”

She was well into her twenties, old enough to wonder about a man’s touch. “Are ye no’ curious what it would feel like?”

A soft huff of self-derision. “Of course.”

Of course.Curiosity was her essence. He just had to glance at these packed shelves of books to know that.

Was this an invitation? His heart raced, and he had to swallow to loosen a throat dry with excitement. He kept his tone soft and even. “I could kiss ye.”