The Highlander's Dangerous Temptation

by TERRI BRISBIN

  ‘What took so long?’

  ‘Well, Niall had to give over his horse for the lady’s group. The cart was slowing them down, so they took what they needed and used Niall’s to carry the extra supplies.’ Athdar realised that Niall was not with them.

  ‘Where is he now?’

  Tavish and Dougal chuckled. ‘Still walking, laird.’

  Athdar did not have to say a word. Padruig was on his feet, calling out orders to two of the men listening. The light of the moon was enough to see their way and retrieve Niall.

  ‘So the storms came, then?’ he asked.

  ‘Aye. One moment it was clear and sunny, the next it moved in like a wall of snow. Lucky we were far enough in that they could get through the rest.’

  ‘My thanks,’ Athdar said to them. He held out his hand to Isobel for he wanted her to hear news about her mother without the others listening.

  ‘Dougal?’ They walked far enough from the table so the others could not hear. ‘Did my sister or the lady’s mother give you messages for her?’

  ‘Only to tell you that they are safe and someone will come for you as soon as the pass opens once more.’

  ‘My thanks for your assistance to them, Dougal,’ Isobel said in a tone that made the man instantly her admirer.

  Dougal left them and Athdar looked at Isobel, trying not to let his fear and pleasure over this setback show. He would have to take steps to ensure her honour was protected and that he protected her honour, as well. That, he suspected, would be the bigger problem.

  ‘It seems you will have me as a guest for some time longer, Athdar. I hope I will not be too large a burden to you.’

  Words escaped him in that moment. This would be the biggest challenge he faced in a long time. To have her so close and want her so much and not to touch her. And not to let her batter down his resistance and his resolve about accepting another woman into his torn and shattered life.

  Looking into those eyes the colour of the northern sea and knowing she was truly an innocent and must remain that way, he vowed to respect her honour...

  For if he did not, he dishonoured himself, as well.

  And he would end up in little pieces spread all over the Highlands of Scotland by her furious, half Scots, half Norse, very dangerous father.

  Chapter Eleven

  Although, from the sound of it, it was a severe early winter storm that had closed the pass, the weather at the village and in the lands around them was beautiful and sunny. Harvest was done and now everyone did their part from the oldest to the youngest, from fit to shut-in.

  And for Isobel, guest or no guest, it would have been inconceivable to remain inactive and not help, so she did. She spent a few hours each day with Laria, helping her dry, crush and mix her various herbal concoctions. She spent other hours visiting with Nessa and the other weavers spread throughout the village, helping as she could and wishing she had her loom here so she could work alongside them.

  But the best time of each day was the evening.

  Supper brought her together with Athdar who seemed to enjoy her company and her conversations about many topics, from warfare and the political alliances in Scotland to how to preserve more meat for the winter. Sometimes she would catch him watching her or see him smiling over something she’d said to Broc or Padruig.

  He was very much like Connor in that he did not mind having his opinions challenged, though when he made a decision, that was the end of the matter. She witnessed that when it came to arrangements for the village and when it came to some decisions about the training of some of his men.

  They did play chess, but always in the middle of things, with others around and though she often found him staring at her lips, that kiss was never repeated. She certainly would have been willing to, she told herself, if he’d only try to. He did not.... Nothing about his behaviour towards her could be considered anything but polite and respectful and honourable.

  And she wanted to scream!

  Isobel had thought of ways to spend some time alone with Athdar and yet could come up with nothing that would not be obvious. With each day’s report of the snows in the mountains and her visit extending came the hope that something would happen between them. She just did not realise that weaving would be the way it would begin.

  Isobel was leaving Nessa’s cottage when she spied Athdar riding through the village. The cold winds whipped around her, catching up her cloak and her hair and tugging her along the path faster than she would have walked. Laughing as she went, she soon found herself standing before Athdar. He smiled at her and her heart warmed.

  ‘Come now, Isobel,’ he said, leaning over and reaching out his hand. ‘If you are making your way back to the keep, let me take you there.’ She accepted his hand and pulled herself behind him on the horse.

  ‘Are you certain I am not keeping you from duties?’ she asked, as she settled on the horse, tugging the length of her gown and cloak down to cover her legs. A cold burst of wind made her laugh once more as she fought it.

  ‘Isobel!’ he whispered over his shoulder as the horse danced beneath them. ‘Here now,’ he said, reaching around and dragging her across his lap. It took him no time at all to place her over his legs, wrap the bulk of the cloak around her, and surround her with his arms. ‘Ready?’

  He asked, but did not wait for a reply, kicking the sides of the horse until the giant black lunged forwards carrying them both along the road to the keep. She sat, unmoving, both out of fear of upsetting the horse’s movements and out of the desire to not leave his arms. After they’d gone a short distance, she relaxed against his chest, enjoying the feel of his strong muscles and the warmth his body gave hers. He tensed for a moment as she did it, but then allowed it, even cushioned her more as they continued up the path. Several villagers called out or waved and she noticed more than one of them giving a knowing nod.

  If the weather held out...

  If she demonstrated her usefulness...

  If she made him want her...

  If only...

  ‘You do not need to work in the village, Isobel. You are my guest.’

  ‘Aye, a guest, but I cannot abide being lazy. And truly, I would rather stay busy than sit idly by when there is so much to be done.’

  He seemed to think about her words. When she lifted her head up, she could imagine him tilting his down and kissing her. She did lift hers and inhaled the warm, masculine scent of him, so close to her, wishing he would...

  ‘It is getting too cold for you to traipse around the village like this,’ he said. His concern warmed her, too.

  ‘Would you...?’

  She stopped before asking him to do something for her. If word came that the pass was cleared of the early snow, and chances are that it would before winter set in for real, she would be gone. So, she did not want to ask him to change something for her. Still...

  ‘Go on, Isobel. What is it you want?’

  His deep voice grew a bit huskier then, sending shivers unrelated to the wind down her spine, and she thought about what she really wanted from him. Then she shook herself free of this madness he caused in her.

  ‘Would you permit me to have one of the looms moved into the keep so I can continue to work on it there?’

  He remained quiet as they passed through the gate and rode up to the keep. When he stopped there, a boy ran up to take his horse. Athdar handed her down and she was sad for the loss of his heat. The winds buffeted her on the steps until he jumped off the horse and wrapped his arm around her, guiding her up to the door and through it.

  He was not going to allow it. She could tell by his delay that he would not. She waited until they were inside so she did not have to shout against the winds. Isobel needed to make her case for this change to the way he did things here.

  ‘Nessa said there is a loom
, unused, in the storage room below. I could set it up...here,’ she said, pointing to the first corner of the hall as they entered it. ‘The sunlight will make it bright enough during the afternoon for me to work here.’

  ‘And this will please you?’ he asked.

  It was not what she had expected him to say. He’d shown her the hospitality of his clan and his home so he did not have to do anything for her.

  ‘And it will keep you from freezing because you walk from one side of the village to the other, visiting each of the women who weave for our clan?’

  He knew what she did each day? She thought that as long as she kept herself out of his way, he cared not. But he was keeping track of her during the day?

  ‘Aye, I know what you do with your days, Isobel,’ he said, almost reading the questions in her thoughts. ‘I hear reports from my men because you visit their wives and mothers. I hear reports from Padruig because Nessa is happier than she has been in a long time to have such an accomplished weaver among us. And I hear from Broc about how much you are helping Laria as she prepares for the winter and to move into the keep.’

  Part of her was embarrassed that he knew so much, but more of her was thrilled he’d taken note of what she did. She nodded at him and smiled. ‘It would please me greatly, Athdar.’

  For a moment it was only the two of them there. The noises and chatter of the hall faded away and Isobel swore she could hear the breaths he took. Her heart pounded as he stepped closer and took her hand in his. She gazed at him as he leaned his head down and touched his lips to hers. Isobel stood up on her toes so that she did not lose contact with his mouth. This kiss, so different from the first one, had barely got started when he abruptly ended it.

  He stood very still and she finally heard what he clearly had—the voices coming closer and closer. His wide shoulders and height hid her from their view and he was giving her the opportunity to move away before this scandalous behaviour was seen by anyone. She did as he indicated and took a pace back away from him just in time, for Broc appeared at his side.

  ‘You may be our guest for the whole of the winter, Isobel,’ he said. ‘Or we will have to send you through the lowlands and out to the sea to get home.’

  ‘I think I would not mind being here all winter,’ she said to Broc, though the whole time she stared back into Athdar’s eyes. He broke contact with her gaze first.

  ‘Broc, the lady asked if she can have the old loom from the storage room brought up here,’ Athdar said to his steward.

  ‘You are making her work for her meals, then?’ Broc jested.

  ‘It would please her to do so,’ Athdar said, glancing briefly at her. ‘And I know how much you like to please our guests.’ He smacked Broc’s shoulder and nodded to her. ‘See to it?’

  She watched him leave, speaking to several others as he made his way through the hall to the small chamber he used as a place for his records and rolls. Once he’d gone, she turned to Broc. May as well get this handled, she thought.

  ‘So, would you like to come with me to find out if the loom is in any condition to bring out?’ Broc asked.

  ‘I would like that.’ Isobel took off her cloak and carried it over her arm as she followed Broc.

  It took only a short time to find the disassembled loom, which Broc told her belonged at one time to Lady Lilidh MacDougal, Athdar and Jocelyn’s mother, before being stored away at Jocelyn’s departure and her mother’s death. With the help of some of the kitchen workers, they had the loom’s pieces carried to the corner of the hall.

  * * *

  She spent the rest of the afternoon working to assemble the frame and to begin to hang the weights. To her surprise, the men found another, smaller loom and brought it out from the storage chamber to the hall. Broc was convinced it belonged to Lady Jocelyn as a child, her practice loom where she learned her skills. Jean told of Jocelyn’s first attempts to use it and entertained them as the men worked now to set up both of the looms, side by side.

  Soon, their usual tasks called them away and Isobel knew it would take several more hours to get the looms set up and working. Since Nessa would see them when she arrived to take supper in the keep, Isobel was certain she could gain her assistance on the morrow.

  * * *

  Supper came and went. The pleasant companions at table made the meal go quickly and Isobel found herself fighting to stay awake after the busyness of the day. She and Glenna returned to her chamber and she fell into bed, expecting to be asleep quickly.

  First, it was the maid’s snoring that kept her awake.

  Then the howling winds and rain that began some time later slammed against the stone walls and wooden shutters.

  Finally, Isobel realised that she was not ready for sleep; her thoughts kept going in different directions and would not quiet. Giving up the fight, she climbed from the bed and, having a care not to wake Glenna, she wrapped her heavy woollen shawl around her shoulders and left the chamber. She found a lantern hanging on the wall, so Isobel took it with her, guiding her way through the darkness.

  Some people did sleep in the hall, though now they placed their pallets near the hearth for the warmth they could claim. Walking down the stairs to the back corner, she put the lantern down on the floor and studied the wooden beams and pieces. The stone weights lay in a pile, ready to be strung and placed over the main beam to hold the warp threads in place as the shuttle worked the weft, over and under, tightening the growing fabric after every pass.

  She sat in the near dark, attaching the ends of large balls of spun threads that would be used. Occasional snores or coughs echoed through the hall and she remained as quiet as she could be, using her body to keep most of the lantern’s light blocked. How much time passed, she knew not. She continued to sort and organise the parts and pieces until she felt sleep’s call. Placing everything where it could be used on the morrow, she rose, picked up the lantern and walked quietly back to her chambers.

  * * *

  She was driving him to madness.

  With each passing day that she remained in his keep, in his village, in his world, she stole a bit more of his resolve until he wondered how he could continue the farce of resisting her.

  Isobel had breathed life back into his home and his people...and into him. She had done what years and wisdom and fortune had not—she had made him want to try again. His sworn oath was crumbling more each day and with each smile and cheerfully done task, with each gracious favour and suggestion, she made him want her.

  And he did want her.

  Although he had much more experience in the physical pleasures than she, he’d thought about those two simple kisses they’d shared more than he’d thought about any previous ones. Even those of his first love faded now and the ones in more recent memory paled when he compared them.

  Those kisses would be his downfall...and hers if they were not careful. He sensed her curiosity and budding passion and knew she wanted to know more. He prayed nightly that the snow would recede and save him from the desire for her that grew with every encounter.

  He could not sleep and decided to go down to the small chamber off the hall and review some documents he’d found from his father’s time. When he walked into the corridor, he heard sounds from below. Leaning over the stone wall, he saw her, in the corner, moving some of the pieces of the loom and sorting through the pile of weight stones.

  He wondered how it felt to be those stones, resting in her hand, encircled by her fingers. He reacted as he expected, growing hard at the thought of her touch. As he watched in silence, she organised the threads and began tying on some of the stones. After a while, she slowed and stopped. Picking up the lantern from the floor, she began walking towards the stairs...and him.

  Not wanting to frighten her or startle her and cause a scream, he backed up against the doorway and waited for her to approach. When she reac
hed the top of the stairs, he lifted the latch of his door, jiggling it enough to warn her of his presence, but not to scare her. Instead of fear, her face brightened when she realised it was he.

  ‘Athdar,’ she whispered, smiling. ‘I thought you might be Glenna following me.’ She held the lantern up higher, revealing that he wore a shirt and trews only. And revealing her undergown and shawl. ‘I hope I did not wake you?’

  ‘You did not. I am having some trouble sleeping this night, Isobel.’ He looked past her towards her chamber. ‘And where is Glenna? Is she not supposed to attend to you?’

  ‘The girl works unceasingly all day, Athdar. And then she sleeps like the dead.’

  She did not understand that she’d just given him both an excuse and a reason in revealing Glenna’s pattern. The girl would hear little or nothing that went on outside the chamber, nor in it, he suspected, once she retired for the night.

  Done waiting, done resisting, done...just done, he took the lantern from her and put it on the floor.

  ‘Isobel,’ he whispered, sliding his fingers into her hair and drawing her close. ‘I want to kiss you, lass.’

  He could feel her breath against his face, they were so close, but he waited for her to object to his attentions. When she did not, he lowered his mouth to hers the way he’d wanted to for days...for weeks...for ever, it seemed.

  She sighed against his lips at the first touch and leaned into him, opening to him. He smiled at that, almost laughed really, and then placed kisses on her cheeks, her forehead, her chin and the edge of her jaw before joining their mouths and tasting the wonderful essence of her with his tongue. He plunged deeply within and then mimicked the movement another part of him wanted to take, sliding in and out. Tilting his head so that he could access every part of her mouth, he kissed her until she was breathless as he’d wanted to do.

  When she drew back from him to take a breath, he kissed down the line of her jaw and on to her neck. She lifted up towards him, seeming to urge him on, but he did not trespass further. Touching, tasting her skin, licking and nipping his way back to her lips, he discovered that she had grasped his shirt and her shawl had fallen away from her shoulders.