The Tempted

by Donna Grant

  THE

  TEMPTED

  ROGUES OF SCOTLAND

  DONNA GRANT

  This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

  THE TEMPTED

  © 2014 by DL Grant, LLC

  Excerpt from The Seduced copyright © 2014 by Donna Grant

  Cover design © 2014 by Leah Suttle

  ISBN 10: 0991454278

  ISBN 13: 978-0991454273

  All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce or transmit this book, or a portion thereof, in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, without permission in writing from the author. This book may not be resold or uploaded for distribution to others. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  Available in ebook and print editions

  www.DonnaGrant.com

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  A special thanks goes out to my wonderful team that helps me get these books out. Hats off to my editor, Chelle Olsen, and cover design extraordinaire, Leah Suttle. Thank you both for helping me to keep my crazy schedule and keeping me sane!

  There’s no way I could do any of this without my amazing family – Steve, Gillian, and Connor – thanks for putting up with my hectic schedule and for knowing when it was time that I got out of the house. And special nod to the Grant pets – all five – who have no problem laying on the keyboard to let me know it’s time for a break.

  Last but not least, my readers. You have my eternal gratitude for the amazing support you show me and my books. Y’all rock my world. Stay tuned at the end of this story for a sneak peek of The Seduced, Rogues of Scotland book 4 out February 9, 2015. Enjoy!

  xoxo

  Donna

  PROLOGUE

  Highlands of Scotland

  Summer, 1427

  There were only a handful of things in Stefan Kennedy’s life that he was thankful for. His three friends – Ronan, Daman, and Morcant – made up the majority of them.

  If it weren’t for his friends, Stefan knew he would already be dead. The anger inside him was a living beast. He couldn’t control it, and he stopped trying long ago. No one had given him a reason to try and keep it in check until he met Morcant, Ronan, and Daman that fateful day.

  It was by happenchance that he even went to the Highland Games. He almost hadn’t, and he still didn’t know what had made him go. But he had. Everything changed upon meeting his friends. Only with them did he have reason to restrain his rage.

  His horse snorted, shaking his great head. Stefan patted his steed’s neck as he waited with Morcant and Daman for Ronan to arrive. The valley between the two mountains was wide. The summer sun was warm, and a breeze ruffled his horse’s white mane.

  Above them, the shrill cry of a golden eagle broke the silence. Stefan glanced up at the bird to see it soaring upon the wind currents before flapping its great wings.

  Stefan’s attention was snapped to the right at the sound of a horse’s whinny. He spotted the rider atop the mountain. Finally. Stefan’s patience had been wearing thin. Morcant’s smile when he saw Ronan had Stefan glancing at Daman, who was also grinning.

  Ronan’s horse pawed the ground, and a moment later, he leaned forward on his mount. His horse raced down the mountain. Morcant and Daman laughed while Stefan shook his head at Ronan’s wildness. Then again, that same thread ran through all four of them. It was just one of many reasons they’d become friends.

  Morcant had to hold his young stallion with a firm hand as the three waited for Ronan to reach them. Daman’s mount danced sideways, just as Morcant finally got control of his horse and Ronan arrived.

  “About time,” Stefan grumbled to Ronan.

  Ronan raised his brow. “You might want to rein in that temper, my friend. We’re going to be around beautiful women this night. Women require smiles and sweet words. No’ furrowed brows.”

  Stefan was used to such words, so Daman and Morcant’s laughter didn’t bother him. Stefan shot Ronan a humorless look.

  “Aye, we’ve heard enough about this Ana,” Daman said as he turned his mount alongside Ronan’s. “Take me to this gypsy beauty so I can see her for myself.”

  Ronan’s lips compressed. “You think to take her from me?”

  Daman’s confident smile grew as his eyes twinkled in merriment. “Is she that beautiful?”

  “Just you try,” Ronan dared, only half jesting.

  “Be cautious, Ronan. You wrong a gypsy, and they’ll curse you. No’ sure we should be meddling with such people,” Morcant said as he shoved his hair out of his eyes.

  Morcant wasn’t generally the voice of reason among the four. That was normally reserved for Daman, but Morcant’s comment gave Stefan pause. Most clans didn’t allow gypsies on their land for long. Even though their bold colors and beauty were intriguing, there was no doubt they could be dangerous.

  Ronan laughed at Morcant and reined in his jittery mount. “Ah, but with such a willing body, how am I to refuse Ana? Come, my friends. Let us enjoy the bounty that awaits.” He gave a short whistle and his horse surged forward in a run again.

  Stefan’s well-trained mount stood still, his ears pricked forward as Stefan watched Ronan. The three remained behind for a moment as Ronan took the lead as he always did. Each had found their place within their small group. What began by chance a decade earlier had grown into their own clan. After they’d met at the Highland Games, they’d made sure to meet up regularly until they were as inseparable as brothers. The four formed a friendship that grew tighter with each year that passed.

  “I’m no’ missing this,” Morcant said and gave his stallion his head. The horse immediately took off.

  Stefan shared a look with Daman, and as one, they nudged their mounts forward. It wasn’t long before they caught up with Morcant. Ronan looked over his shoulder, a wide smile on his face. He spurred his mount faster. Morcant then leaned low over his stallion’s neck until he pulled up alongside Ronan.

  Stefan loosened the reins, and his horse closed the last bit of distance to come even with Ronan a moment before Daman rode up beside Morcant.

  A few moments later, Ronan tugged the reins, easing his stallion into a canter so they rode their horses four abreast. Being with his friends and riding along the craggy, windswept mountains were the only things that could make Stefan forget who he was.

  His soul felt almost…free.

  How he cherished his time with his friends. Without them…well, he didn’t want to go down that road. Not now. Not when he was in such a fine mood.

  The four rode from one glen to another until Ronan finally slowed his horse to a walk. They stopped atop the next hill and looked down at the circle of gypsy wagons hidden in the wooded vale below.

  Stefan focused his gaze on the circle of wagons and the gypsies walking around. There was a large fire in the middle of the camp, and as far as Stefan could tell, no one else was with the gypsies.

  “I’ve a bad feeling,” Daman said as he shifted uncomfortably atop his mount. “We shouldna be here.”

  Morcant’s horse flung up his head, and he brought his mount under control with soft words. “I’ve a need to sink my rod betwixt willing thighs. If you doona wish to partake, Daman, then doona, but you willna be stopping me.”

  “Nor me,” Ronan said.

  Stefan was silent for several moments. Never before had he abandoned his friends, and he wasn’t about to start now. Unlike Morcant, who wanted to fuck every woman he came across, Stefan tended to only sate his body when he could no longer stand the need.

  He would go into the camp with the others, even if only to watch their backs. Stefan gave Ronan a nod of agreement.

  Ronan was the f
irst to ride down the hill to the camp, and Morcant was right on his heels. Stefan nudged his horse into a gallop as a young beauty with long black hair came running out to greet Ronan in her brightly colored skirts. Ronan pulled his horse to a halt and jumped off with a smile as the woman launched herself into his arms. Ronan caught her and brought his lips down to hers.

  Stefan pulled his horse to a halt beside Morcant’s, and a moment later, Daman rode up on Morcant’s other side. By the look of Daman’s tightly held lips, he wasn’t happy.

  Ronan and the woman spoke quietly before Ronan turned her toward them. “Ana, these are my friends, Daman, Morcant, and Stefan,” he said, pointing to each of them in turn.

  Her smile was wide as she held out her arm to the camp. “Welcome to our camp.”

  Morcant quickly dismounted and dropped the reins to allow his horse to graze freely. He then started to walk between two wagons towards the center of the camp before he hesitated.

  Stefan wasn’t going to sit atop his mount as he waited for Ronan and Morcant to sate themselves. He dismounted and patted his horse.

  “I’ll be back,” he mumbled and followed Morcant into the camp. He met Morcant’s gaze when Morcant glanced his way. It was Morcant’s pause that had Stefan looking back at Daman. Indecision warred on Daman’s face.

  Stefan didn’t move as he waited for Daman to make up his mind. Finally, Daman slid from his horse and gathered the reins of all four mounts to tether them together.

  “I’ll keep watch,” Daman said as he sat outside the camp near a tree.

  Ronan wrapped an arm around Ana and walked away calling, “Your loss.”

  Morcant gave a nod and continued on to a woman sitting on the steps to her wagon, her bright turquoise and yellow skirts dipping between her legs while she braided a leather halter for a horse.

  It was long moments before Stefan reached the fire in the middle of the camp and nodded to the three men sitting there.

  “Welcome,” the youngest of them said. He had black hair and eyes, and wore a bright red shirt and black pants.

  The elder of the other two had stark white hair cut short. He was carving a piece of wood into a buck and motioned to the rock next to him. “Have a seat.”

  Stefan glanced at the third man, middle-aged, with just a hint of white in his dark hair at the temples. His dark eyes were welcoming as he stood and spooned some soup into a bowl then handed it to Stefan.

  “Thank you,” Stefan said and sat. He sampled a bit of the soup and nodded at the rich flavor. “It’s good.”

  “Of course it is,” the youngest said with a laugh. “Our food is excellent.”

  The elder lifted his eyes to Stefan, his bushy white brows raised on his forehead. “You’re friends with Ronan?”

  “I am.”

  “Close friends?”

  Stefan paused in his eating. “I consider him a brother, as I do Morcant and Daman.”

  “When does Ronan plan on marrying Ana then?”

  Stefan swallowed. Marry? Apparently, they didn’t know Ronan at all. Ronan was as opposed to marriage as the Devil was to Heaven. It wasn’t like Stefan could tell them any of that, but surely Ana knew.

  Ronan wasn’t the type to take a woman to his bed unless she knew from the beginning there would never be more from him. Ronan wasn’t cruel, but he also didn’t lead a female on.

  “He’s no’ mentioned it to me,” Stefan finally said.

  The youngest chuckled. “If Ana has her way, it’ll be tonight.”

  “He’s all she can talk about,” the middle-aged man said. “By the way, we’ve not introduced ourselves. I’m Yanko. This is my son Luca, and my father Guaril.”

  Stefan nodded his head to each of them. “I’m Stefan Kennedy.”

  ~ ~ ~

  Despite talk of Ronan’s impending marriage that he knew nothing about, Stefan finished his meal listening to the three men chatter of their travels. He didn’t understand their need to move from place to place. It was almost as if they couldn’t remain still. It was partly due to the fact that no one would allow them to remain, but it was also in their blood to wander.

  When Guaril finished his carving, he handed it to Stefan to inspect. Stefan was impressed with the skill displayed. Guaril had perfectly captured the likeness of a red deer from the hooves to the eyes to the antlers.

  “This is fine craftsmanship, Guaril.”

  Luca smiled. “My grandfather is a master. We sell many of his carvings.”

  “I keep trying to teach Luca as I did Yanko,” Guaril said with a grin directed at his grandson. “But he lacks the dedication.”

  Yanko slapped his son on the back. “I was the same. He’ll grasp it soon enough.”

  “Here,” Guaril said and tossed the small dagger to Luca.

  Surprised, Luca caught it and then held it up over his head causing even Stefan to smile as the three laughed.

  The night was suddenly shattered by an anguished scream, a soul-deep, fathomless cry that was dredged from the depths of someone’s soul.

  Stefan was immediately on guard. He searched the camp and saw Ronan first. He stood outside of Ana’s wagon, shirtless with his hand on the hilt of his sword, looking at an old woman who was staring at something in the grass.

  The next instant, Morcant hurriedly exited a wagon still fastening his kilt. Stefan slowly stood and glanced behind him to find Daman standing outside the circle of wagons with a resigned expression.

  “Who is that?” Luca asked in a strangled whisper.

  Stefan turned his gaze back to Ronan and the old woman. That’s when he saw the bright pink and blue skirts of the body in the grass. It was Ana, a dagger still sticking out of her stomach. Their night of fun and revelry was over.

  By the looks exchanged amongst the gypsies, there was no way Stefan and his friends were going to be able to leave without a fight. The smiles from the gypsies turned to glares of hatred and disgust.

  Stefan noticed Morcant’s gaze. He gave Morcant a nod to say he was ready for battle because that’s exactly what was about to happen.

  The gypsies in the camp stood still, almost afraid to move. Ronan’s face was twisted with denial and sorrow while Morcant slowly began to pull his sword from his scabbard.

  “Ronan,” Stefan said urgently, trying to snap his friend to attention. It was going to take all of them to get out alive. Stefan palmed the hilt of his sword and waited.

  There was a moment of utter silence, as if the world were holding its breath. Then the old woman let loose a shriek and pointed her gnarled finger at Ronan. Ronan’s eyes widened in confusion and anger.

  “Ilinca will make him pay,” Luca whispered.

  Yanko cut his gaze to his son and said, “Enough.”

  But Stefan didn’t need to hear more. He looked at the old woman again. Her grief shone plainly, clearly. So did her anger.

  Words, hurried and unfamiliar, fell from Ilinca’s lips. The language was Romany, and Stefan didn’t need to understand them to know that nothing good could come from whatever she was saying.

  The longer Stefan stared, the more he realized Ronan was being held against his will. His pale green eyes were wide with confusion. The same time Stefan drew his sword, Morcant rushed Ilinca.

  The next thing Stefan saw was Ilinca shifting her gaze to Morcant. Instantly, he was frozen in place, no more able to move than Ronan. With Morcant taken care of, Ilinca returned her gaze to Ronan and continued speaking in the strange language.

  Stefan couldn’t believe that Morcant and Ronan had been halted with merely a look from the old woman. He let loose his rage, let it fill him until he shook with it. He released a battle cry and leapt over the fire toward Ilinca. Stefan hadn’t gotten two steps before the old gypsy pinned him with a look that instantly jerked him to a halt.

  Stefan was momentarily flabbergasted at the feeling rushing over him, the force controlling his body. He tried to move his arm, his head, anything. But she had complete control. He couldn’t even get his lips or
voice to work.

  The only thing he could move was his eyes, and he wished to God he wasn’t able to see what was going on. He hated the helplessness, the utter powerlessness he felt. When he got free – and, he would get free – he was going to take Ilinca’s head.

  Ronan had no more killed Ana than he had. Ilinca had no right to blame any of them for Ana’s weakness. The longer the old gypsy held Stefan in place, the more his fury grew, consuming him with a blind rage that blocked out everything but the gypsy.

  Ilinca’s gaze held his for a moment, seemingly undeterred by his wrath. She looked behind him.

  Daman.

  Stefan tried to shout for Daman to get away before she got him, as well. Stefan knew Daman wouldn’t leave, and when a satisfied smile crossed the old gypsy’s face, Stefan knew Daman had walked into the camp.

  Stefan didn’t have time to think about that as Ronan suddenly squeezed his eyes shut while his body shook with pain. In the next instant, he vanished.

  Naaaayyyyyy!

  The bellow welled up in Stefan’s mind but it never passed his lips. No sooner had the old woman looked at Morcant than he disappeared, as well.

  Then Ilinca returned her gaze to Stefan.

  I’m going to kill you!

  She smiled coldly, as if she could read his mind. The pain started slowly but built quickly. It seeped into every nerve, every crevice of his body.

  It burned, it bit. It slashed, it gutted.

  It ravaged.

  Stefan held Ilinca’s gaze, daring her to give him all that she had. Had he not been held up by her magic, Stefan would’ve been on his knees, doubled over from the piercing, searing pain that went on and on.

  His vision began to fade until there was nothing but blackness. Stefan fought against Ilinca’s hold, against his vision loss and his inability to help his friends.