The Highlander's Dangerous Temptation. Terri Brisbin

not a bad thing. He was a fair and competent man, according to the earl. Compassionate, according to his sister.

      And Isobel could sense the pervasive sadness that lived within him and it called to something deep within her soul—she needed to be the one who gave him solace. Rather than drive or scare her away from him, it appealed to her. She shivered now as she glanced at him again.

      Cora noticed her reaction, for her friend squinted and stared at her face. Then the girl smiled and nodded.

      ‘I think you are not so unaffected as you want me to believe, Isobel.’

      ‘Cora, he is kin through my father,’ she offered, hoping Cora would allow the issue to settle. Wiping her damp hands on her gown, she tossed her hair over her shoulders and took her friend’s hand. ‘Come, we have tasks to see to before dinner, whether Athdar attends or not.’

      That had been a near thing. Her friend wisely let the subject drop though the man walked half the yard ahead of them as they also headed for the keep. Her mother was attending Lady Jocelyn in the solar and that gave her the reason to follow him inside. Her heart raced in her chest and she tried to keep the anticipation of speaking to him under control...and she might have if someone had not called out his name from behind her. Athdar paused and turned to see who had called out to him. As he did that, his gaze, those intense, brown eyes, fell on her.

      Any attempt to continue to behave as though his attention was usual or customary in her life dissolved away when he winked and then smiled at her. She stopped where she stood and tried to remember to breathe. Cora had not been looking so she continued forwards a step or two before realising she’d left Isobel behind. Isobel forced a breath in and out and then glanced back, returning his smile. She was trying to think of something pithy to say to him when Ranald brushed by and stepped between them.

      ‘I am working in the practice yard, Dar,’ Ranald called out. ‘Come there when ye finish with the laird.’

      Isobel watched as Athdar waved to Ranald, nodded his agreement and then turned to enter the keep. Ranald greeted both of them and then went back to the yard. Cora’s gaze followed his every step until Isobel cleared her throat to gain her attention. The blush that crept up her friend’s cheeks must be similar to the one she could yet feel heating her own. She waved her friend along, not commenting on Ranald’s obvious appeal to Cora.

      As they entered and walked the corridor to the lady’s solar, Isobel decided that she would find a way to watch the two men practice in the yard later. Surely Cora would accompany her on her mission.

      * * *

      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