Terri Brisbin - The Highlander's Dangerous Temptation

* * *

Athdar swore under his breath as he walked ahead of the two young women into the dark stone keep to find his brother-by-marriage. He had to meet with Connor and several of his advisors over changes to their plans. As he nodded to those he knew, he cursed himself for his stupidity. Smiling and winking at Isobel? Truly, he was wanting in the head to do such a thing in front of others.

Nay, to do such a thing at all.

Isobel was Rurik’s daughter and if Rurik learned of any attention paid by him to her the man would have his head...or nether parts! He’d already faced death at Rurik’s hands once before and he never intended to do that again, not even for the lovely Isobel.

Damn his eyes, but she was a beauty! He’d watched as she’d grown from gangly girl to this stunning young woman of confidence and intelligence. Her parents had seen her educated as most of those in the MacLeries’ immediate families were. And like many of the other girls and women, they had been encouraged to know and speak their minds. Most unusual, he knew, but here in his brother-by-marriage’s keep and village it all seemed the norm.

He sought the chamber that Connor used as a workroom and found him there with several others he knew. As they began their discussion, Athdar found his thoughts distracted by a heart-shaped face surrounded by pale blond curls and the blue-green eyes that were ever filled with merriment when they met his. And the full, pink lips that tempted him to madness. His body went along with these thoughts and reacted in surprising manner. Athdar shifted in his chair, gaining Connor’s attention.

‘Are you well?’ Connor asked, offering him a cup of wine.

‘I am,’ he replied, taking a mouthful of wine to give him a moment to focus his thoughts on the business at hand and not on the lovely and forbidden Isobel. ‘About the preparations for winter?’

Try as he might, even as Connor went back to explaining their plans, and his clan’s part in them, Athdar thought about Isobel.

And the fruitlessness of any interest he might have in her.

Glancing around the chamber and realising that most of those there were happily married, he felt the heartache pierce through him as it always did.

Happy, he might be, but married he would never be again.

The disasters of his previous marriages and the most recent betrothal had made his decision for him—he would not subject any woman to the dangers of marrying him.

Especially not the lovely Isobel.

The tragedies of his past would haunt his every day and night, but he would not risk someone as precious and vibrant as her to the chance that he was truly cursed.

Some would laugh and call him foolish. People died. Women died, especially in childbirth or such manner. But then they would recall that he’d lost two wives to death, a betrothed to an accident and two possible wives to the fear of all that would befall them if their fathers agreed to matches with him.

So, in spite of any desire he had to find a wife and have a family as these men had, Athdar understood that the fates stood against him. Standing and walking to the window, he listened and replied to Connor from there.

As though his thoughts had conjured her up, Rurik’s daughter passed into his view as she walked through the yard in the direction of the practice yards. She and her friend had their heads close together, conspiring no doubt on some feminine matter, as they laughed and glanced at the men practising their fighting skills. He emptied the cup and placed it on the nearby tray.

‘I will accept your invitation to stay for a few days, Connor.’ He strode towards the door, ignoring any questioning glances. ‘I must check with my man about some of the supplies we need.’

‘Your sister is in her solar, Dar,’ Connor said.

‘I will seek her out later.’ Lifting the latch on the door, he pulled it open. ‘I will return shortly.’

His feet led him outside before he could consider how strange his behaviour was. Something, someone drew him as though a rope connected him with...her. When he realised his dangerous actions—dangerous to his own well-being and hers—he slowed down and sought Ranald instead.

A good fight might beat this madness out of him. It might make him remember his reasons for being here. And his reasons for avoiding marriage completely.

* * *

His plan almost worked, too, until he heard Isobel gasp out his name as he landed face first in the dirt from a well-aimed punch. How was he ever going to ignore her when every fibre of his body and soul wanted to claim her?

* * *

‘Rurik thinks to marry her elsewhere.’

Connor stepped closer, watching the scene in the yard from above—in his favourite place and standing behind his beloved Jocelyn. He leaned nearer, placing his arms on each side of where she stood, and inhaled the scent of whatever she used to wash her hair. His body grew hard just thinking about her...taking a bath...naked. Shaking his head, he laughed at the ever-present temptation she presented to him, regardless of their decades-long marriage and age.

‘Has he finally realised she is of age to marry?’ Jocelyn asked, turning into his arms. ‘He has resisted for a long time.’

‘Two offers have come in recently. We discussed them at length which forced him to accept that it is time.’

‘And you support these matches?’ she asked. A hint of something—suspicion? sarcasm?—entered her voice as she asked.

Connor laughed. ‘Is the game on then, wife?’ Kissing her, he watched as her eyes lit with mischief. ‘So it is, then.’

He released her and looked over the side of the battlements down to the yard. Her brother had left their meeting abruptly and now he fought with one of the younger warriors, Ranald, before a shouting and cheering crowd. Even from this distance, Connor could read the distraction in Dar’s fighting style. And, if he was right, he knew the person causing it.

‘He notices her.’ He felt Jocelyn tense and waited for her to object to his guess. ‘Rurik will not be happy.’

‘Athdar has sworn not to marry again,’ Jocelyn whispered as they watched her brother losing control of the match below. ‘He keeps so much pain within himself.’

Connor remained silent then, knowing that it could be telling their own story again—the pain, the refusal to marry, the inability to hope that love could be within their grasp until it was nearly too late. Only the woman before him had saved his soul and his heart from eternal darkness.

‘Rurik has hopes she will settle her heart elsewhere, and that’s without Dar’s name being mentioned.’

‘I did not think Rurik one to hold a grudge for so very long,’ Jocelyn said, facing him once more and searching his face. ‘It was so long ago and Athdar was so young. And it was only an insult, not an attack.’

‘You have not involved yourself with Dar’s affairs before. Why take up this challenge now?’ he asked. He was trying to figure out if this would indeed become their next matchmaking challenge.

‘It was not my place, Connor. I had accepted that,’ she said, as sadness filled her voice.

‘Had?’ That was not good.

‘I see the longing in his gaze at gatherings. He wants what we have. He wants a wife, bairns. Love. He wants it and yet he fears taking another chance.’

‘So mayhap you should leave him to making that decision?’ It could not hurt to nudge his beloved in the right direction. ‘He is a chief now, with responsibilities. I do not think he would take it well to know you plot about him.’ Hoping that was enough to push her away from making this attraction between Dar and Isobel more than that, he added, ‘I have to see to things. I will see you at table?’

She smiled, acquiesced even, but he knew in his soul that she would not turn her efforts from a possible match between her brother and Rurik’s daughter. And there would be hell to pay on all sides if that happened. He did not have the time to make her see the folly and danger in her choice, but he would see to it later. This night. In their chambers.