The Highlander's Dangerous Temptation. Terri Brisbin

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.

      ‘You did not eat. Some bread and cheese.’

      In many other noble houses, great store was placed in the conducting of meals with formality, but as long as she could remember the laird and lady ate among their kith and kin. If tasks were to be done, a simple meal like this one was enough. So, it might seem unusual to many others of the same rank as Lady Jocelyn to dispense with a meal with little comment, yet it was not for them. If Laria thought it strange, she did not say. A nod to the others was the only signal that they were leaving and would be about their day’s work.

      * * *

      She spent the chilly, cloudy morning following Laria across fields and into forests as she collected the last fresh leaves and cuttings from many different plants. The healer spoke about each one as she cut, wrapped and placed it into the large basket she gave Isobel to carry. There seemed to be none of the reticence that Isobel had first felt from the older woman. Indeed, she now seemed pleased to have an assistant as she carried out this important task in preparing for the coming winter.

      They spoke little other than Laria’s instructions about how each plant would be preserved and prepared, all the time walking across MacCallum lands. Though the air warmed a bit as the sun rose higher in the sky, it lost only the coldest bit of chill and never grew to the point that she could remove her cloak completely.

      * * *

      After several hours, they neared the keep and Laria dismissed her until the next morn.

      Isobel had never thought herself pampered or lazy. That is until Laria dragged her to and fro for these last hours, leaving her exhausted. She drew nearer to the gates of the keep, watching villagers on the way back to their cottages, and found a place where the sun’s rays warmed a section of the low wall of a narrow bridge. She sat, gathering the cloak around her and leaning her face back to feel the sun’s warmth on her cheeks for a few moments before going inside.

      Some quiet seconds passed and Isobel thought she might doze, tired as she was, so she leaned back against the trunk of a tree that grew next to the wall. Sitting still for the first time since getting out of her bed this morn just past dawn felt good. She knew people passed her by, but the sounds faded away as sleep overtook her.

      ‘Isobel?’

      She heard someone saying her name. Sleep held her firmly and she just could not open her eyes.

      ‘Lass?’

      Then she felt a large hand on her shoulder, squeezing it as her name was spoken again in that deep, appealing voice.

      ‘Isobel? Are you well, lass?’

      He watched as her eyes fluttered open and, as she recognised him, Athdar began to reach out to steady her, placing his other hand on her shoulder and waiting for her to wake completely before letting go. There was going to be hell to pay from her mother already from last night’s infraction of manners, but if Margriet saw her daughter asleep on the bridge because he’d kept her up half the night, body parts might be maimed or removed. His body parts.

      ‘Athdar,’ she whispered as she straightened up and stretched her neck and shoulders a few times. Then she smiled at him and stood. ‘The sun felt so good when I sat down, I must have drifted off to sleep.’ A wonderful blush crept up into her cheeks, showing her embarrassment about being caught.

      ‘It was a cruel thing I did to you, Isobel. Kept you up most of the night. Then I allowed Laria to find you just as you left your chamber. And now, puir wee lass, you’ve had to find sleep sitting on the bridge. I am a terrible host.’

      Isobel stood and he moved back so she could. He wanted to touch the dark shadows that marred the creamy colour of her cheeks and make them go away. As he lifted his hand towards her, he heard people nearby. People walking across the bridge. People who could see everything he did and hear everything he said.

      He took another step back and then another and then waited for her to step away from the place on the wall where she’d been sitting. After she shook out her cloak, he held his arm out to her.

      ‘Come, let me see you back to the hall.’

      Isobel glanced around them and nodded to the men he’d left sitting on their horses waiting for him.

      He’d forgotten them when he noticed her asleep on the wall.

      ‘You have duties, Laird MacCallum, and I must not keep you from them,’ she said, loudly enough for them to hear. ‘But I thank you for your kindness.’

      Athdar wanted to thank her for saving his dignity in this. He’d, again, lost his mind at the sight of her and forgotten the tasks he was in the middle of doing.

      ‘We go to check on the repairs to the mill.’

      From the sly glances from Padruig and the others, he would suffer for this. So, after she bid him farewell, he nodded and watched as she turned and walked towards the gates. He’d only just climbed up on his horse when the whispered taunts began. He listened in silence, for responding to them would make it worse and draw attention he did not want. Then as they reached the road that led to the mill, his destination, he realised what he must say.

      ‘I was showing her the hospitality of my home,’ he said to them. ‘But what excuse do you have for not paying attention to a young, attractive woman who is of marriageable age?’

      He rode off then, while kenning two things. He knew that the young bachelors among his men, especially Fergus and Niall, and even the recently widowed Connal would look a bit differently at Isobel at supper. And he knew that he had made a grievous error in dealing with his own attraction to the lass. If he did not strengthen his resolve never to marry again, a lass like Isobel could make him change his mind.