Terri Brisbin - The Highlander's Dangerous Temptation

Lost so much.

She lifted her cup and leaned forwards to look at the board. If she continued to think about the many tragedies he’d faced, she would cry.

‘So, are you better than your father at this?’ he asked, as he settled in his chair.

‘He will never admit it, but, aye, I am,’ she confessed quietly. ‘Though I cannot win over Duncan’s wife on a regular basis.’ Duncan’s wife Marian was a formidable opponent in this game. Even her father had given up trying to beat her.

‘But you have tried?’ he asked, as he moved the black pieces to his side. She scooped up the red ones and began to put them in their places.

‘She taught me the game.’

His swallow was audible and she laughed at his reaction. ‘Mayhap I should seek my bed after all?’

‘Nay. I will not surrender this early. Let us test our abilities before calling for a retreat.’ His eyes sparkled then and she found herself lost in them for a moment longer than it took for him to notice.

‘Very well, if that is what you want,’ she teased.

They fell into a comfortable silence as she made the first move and then studied the one he made. She neither rushed nor delayed, but took her time and learned his method and strategies. He was skilled, though he played discreetly. Several times he surprised her with a riskier choice, but each risk taken was rewarded with success. In the end, Isobel struggled to make her loss appear real and not to lose in earnest.

‘You are a dangerous opponent, Isobel Ruriksdottir.’

‘But you won, Athdar,’ she said. Lifting the cup to her lips, she drank before she said anything more.

‘You let me win. You should have claimed several of my pieces when I put them in jeopardy.’

She had learned long ago that men did not particularly care for women who could best them so she had no intention of admitting he was right. But, when she met his gaze, she decided differently.

‘Are you insulted?’ she asked, watching his response.

‘Aye. Insulted that you think I need to be coddled like a bairn.’ The sparkling was back in his eyes, so she doubted he was truly insulted.

‘We could play again...’

‘An honest game?’

‘If that is what you want?’

They launched into the game without another word, the play going back and forth between them and the outcome was never a certainty for either of them. Finally, Isobel made her last move and won. She placed all the pieces she’d collected in the wooden box next to the board before raising her eyes and looking at Athdar.

Would he truly accept defeat well? Or would he be angry in spite of his words?

‘Well played, Isobel,’ he said. ‘I thought I might be the victor until you made those last three moves. More than skilful, lass. You have a real talent for this.’

His compliment and his appreciation of her skills brought a blush to her cheeks. The warmth of it spread through her.

Athdar stood, gathered the rest of the pieces in the box and closed it. He lifted the board and tucked it under his arm. She waited for him to put it up in its place on the mantel.

Isobel had no idea of how much time had passed while they played. She looked at the hearth and realised it had burned down quite low. A few lamps around the hall still threw some light down its length and shadows into its dark corners. No one had entered since they’d been there—most likely all were in their beds asleep as they should be.

‘Athdar, I...’

‘Isobel...’

She laughed softly and waited for him to speak first. Just as he opened his mouth to begin, a cough echoed through the emptiness. They both turned to find her mother standing outside their chamber’s door.

‘I should go,’ she whispered.

‘Aye. Go on then,’ he said. ‘If you need me to speak to her, I will.’

‘Goodnight, Athdar,’ she said, taking the first step away from him.

‘Goodnight to you.’

She’d taken a few steps towards her chamber when his voice came as a whisper from behind her.

‘Isobel.’

She shivered at what her name sounded like when whispered so.

Isobel quickened her steps when in fact she had no wish to face her mother’s ire too soon. She wanted to savour the pleasure of being with Athdar, alone, as a man and woman. She let his words of praise repeat in her thoughts until she was but a few paces from her mother.

‘Who won?’

The words were not the ones she had expected to hear when she’d clearly misled her mother and Jocelyn. At the least, she expected a warning about such behaviour. Instead her mother surprised her by asking about the game.

‘I did,’ Isobel whispered as she followed her mother back inside the chamber. Lady Jocelyn sat up in the bed, watching her enter.

‘How did he take the loss?’ she asked, smoothing the bedcovers over her lap and pushing her long sleep braid over her shoulder. Isobel’s mother sat on the edge of the bed and listened.

‘He complimented me on my playing.’

The two older women exchanged some glance she could not read. Then they looked back to her.

‘’Tis now the middle of the night, child,’ her mother said softly. ‘Seek your bed.’

When she had expected a reprimand for ignoring the lady’s words and for sneaking out of her chamber in the dark of night to meet with Athdar alone, all she received instead was an enigmatic expression. Isobel sensed that both women supported her exploring the possibility of a relationship with Lady Jocelyn’s brother. Though separated in age by almost a score of years and though her parents must have some other marriage plans in mind, her mother did nothing to warn her off. And the lady had specifically invited her along on this visit. Knowing they would both speak their minds when they wished to, Isobel undressed and slid back under the bedcovers on her cot.

Try as she might, sleep would not come to her. She tossed and turned, reliving each moment spent with Athdar, replaying the games in her thoughts. And watching the way his mouth curved when he laughed...and the way his eyebrows gathered tight when she’d made an unexpected move. But mostly she thought about the way they’d simply been together and how comfortable it felt to be in his company.

* * *

If they’d played through half the night, then she had spent the other half going back over every minute of it. Sooner than she thought possible, the faint light of the rising sun pierced the darkness of the chamber with thin beams around the edges of the window shutters. Isobel turned for the final time and listened as the sounds of the keep’s inhabitants waking and beginning their day also crept into the room.

She waited for her mother and Lady Jocelyn to stir before sitting up on the cot and loosening the tangles in her hair, which had come undone from its braid during the restless hours. Stretching her arms over her head, she settled at the side of the cot and watched as a serving woman brought in a bucket of steaming water to them, then it took little time to wash and dress and prepare for the day.

* * *

Planning on breaking her fast and then seeking out Laria for her first lesson, Isobel was surprised to find Laria in the hall.

‘Good morrow,’ she said to the older woman as she walked towards the table in the front of the room. ‘I did not expect you to come for me.’

‘I need to finish harvesting some plants to the south of here, so it seemed the practical thing to do,’ Laria replied before turning to Lady Jocelyn and Isobel’s mother. ‘Lady. Margriet,’ she said with a nod. ‘The air has turned colder. Bring a sturdy cloak.’

Lady Jocelyn smiled at her, letting her know that this brusque approach was the custom for the healer. Isobel rushed back to their chamber to get her heavy cloak and leather gloves. Knowing she would be working alongside Laria this morn, she’d already pulled on her short boots which would protect her feet from the damp grass and mud. Within minutes she was ready and back in the hall, listening to Jocelyn talking with Laria. Her mother held out a small parcel to her as Laria turned to leave.