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  SHE IS SIN PERSONIFIED…

  Cursed by past tragedies, notorious Highlander Laird Athdar MacCallum has devoted himself to leading his people—and has vowed never to marry again. Until he is utterly disarmed by the innocent beauty in the eyes of Isobel Ruriksdottir…

  Isobel is drawn to the vulnerability she senses behind the fearsome facade of the clan chief. But with his formidable reputation, he is strictly forbidden. Being together can only lead them into danger, yet the temptation to risk all for their perilous passion is impossible to ignore.

  He had crossed a line with her.

  A very desirable and pleasing line, but one that an honorable man did not cross with an innocent unless there was an understanding between them.

  When he attempted to step back she resisted, tightening her grasp on his shirt and leaning against him. She let him go but watched him with wide, intent eyes. Uncertain of what to say, he waited for her, expecting she would be overwhelmed by the power of the passion between them. When she did not speak, he finally found words.

  “Do you regret this?” he asked softly as he leaned over and picked her shawl up from the floor.

  “Regret?” She shook her head. “I regret only that you stopped.”

  * * *

  The Highlander’s Dangerous Temptation

  Harlequin® Historical #1162—November 2013

  Author Note

  Back in 2005, when I wrote Taming the Highlander, young Athdar MacCallum did something stupid that started this entire series—he taunted the formidable half Norse/half Scots warrior Rurik, and the debacle ended with Athdar’s sister being forced to marry the Beast of the Highlands!

  Athdar is now grown-up and laird of his clan. To many, he is cursed with the worst luck in women—having lost two wives, a betrothed, and with another woman thinking about marrying him! He has sworn off the fairer sex—until a young woman grabs his attention and he is drawn to her, unable to resist her.

  Since I torment and tease my heroes all the time, it should be no surprise to you that when Athdar finally lowers his defenses, it is the daughter of his nemesis who brings him to his knees!

  I hope you’ll enjoy The Highlander’s Dangerous Temptation, this next book in my MacLerie Clan series (which seems to grow monthly!). There are some serious moments, too, as Athdar struggles with the sins of his past and as Isobel tries valiantly to help the man she loves face his greatest failures. But anytime Rurik Erengislsson enters the story, watch out—there is danger and humor ahead!

  Happy reading!

  The

  Highlander’s

  Dangerous

  Temptation

  Terri Brisbin

  Available from Harlequin® Historical and

  TERRI BRISBIN

  The Dumont Bride #634

  The Norman’s Bride #696

  The Countess Bride #707

  The Christmas Visit #727

  “Love at First Step”

  The King’s Mistress #735

  The Betrothal #749

  “The Claiming of Lady Joanna”

  The Duchess’s Next Husband #751

  The Maid of Lorne #786

  Taming the Highlander #807

  The Earl’s Secret #831

  Surrender to the Highlander #886

  Possessed by the Highlander #910

  One Candlelit Christmas #919

  “Blame It on the Mistletoe”

  *The Conqueror’s Lady #954

  *The Mercenary’s Bride #1002

  *His Enemy’s Daughter #1034

  ΔThe Highlander’s Stolen Touch #1106

  ΔAt the Highlander’s Mercy #1134

  ΔThe Highlander’s Dangerous Temptation #1162

  And from Harlequin HQN

  Highlanders

  “The Forbidden Highlander”

  And in Harlequin Historical Undone! ebooks

  *A Night for Her Pleasure

  ΔTaming the Highland Rogue

  And in Harlequin Historical Royal Weddings ebooks

  What the Duchess Wants

  *The Knights of Brittany

  ΔThe MacLerie Clan

  TERRI BRISBIN

  is wife to one, mother of three and dental hygienist to hundreds when not living the life of a glamorous romance author. She was born, raised and is still living in the southern New Jersey suburbs. Terri’s love of history led her to write time-travel romances and historical romances set in Scotland and England.

  Readers are invited to visit her website for more information at www.terribrisbin.com, or to contact her at P.O. Box 41, Berlin, NJ 08009-0041.

  To all of my readers,

  You make me stay up nights, struggling to capture the words and images swirling inside my brain and to forge them into a story that’s worth reading! You make me want to write the next word, the next chapter, the next book, even when it makes more sense to give it all up and hit Delete. Your notes, mail, emails, Facebook posts encourage me all along the way and especially during those long, intense deadline binges o’writing.

  All I can say is THANK YOU.

  Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Epilogue

  Author Note

  Prologue

  ‘Come with me!’ Athdar called out like the commander of his father’s warriors would. With his wooden sword brandished high in the air, he pointed deeper into the forest and nodded. ‘Our enemies have taken to the woods!’

  Athdar led his friends, two his cousins and two the sons of a villager, all almost the same age as him, through the thick growth of trees and bushes. Following the rough path along the river, he sought any sign of movement deep in the shadows.

  There! Something moved and he called out orders once more. Deer or some other wild animal—it mattered not to him what the target—scampered ahead of them as the sun’s light flickered through the leaves and branches above them. Laughing, they followed the sounds ahead of them as the creature outraced them. After some time and distance, the sound of the river quieted, telling Athdar that their path had changed. Glancing around, he realised that nothing looked familiar to him. Athdar paused for a moment and then raced off, calling for the others to follow him. Without warning, he reached a small clearing bordered by a gully, a remnant of the river’s previous path, that blocked their way.

  He was tall enough, strong enough, a good runner and jumper, to make it across so he speeded up and crossed the pit with little effort. Skidding to a stop on the other side, he landed in a pile of leaves and quickly stood up.

  ‘Come now!’ he called out. ‘It is not wide enough to stop us.’

  As the ch
ief’s son, Athdar was used to being in charge and making the decisions for his ragtag collection of friends and followers. He waved them on now, waiting for them to obey.

  ‘Are you afraid to jump?’ he asked, challenging them to the edge. ‘Get a running start and you will make it.’ He saw the uncertainty on their faces and would not allow that to ruin their adventure.

  ‘Cowards!’ he shouted at them. ‘Only cowards would disobey their chief.’ The words burned his mouth as he said them, but he knew his friends only needed some encouragement to do as he did and cross the gully.

  Athdar watched as they nudged each other, nodding and backing up to get a good running start to their jump. Smiling, he crossed his arms over his chest the way his father often did and waited for them to reach his side. One and then another soared into the air above the deep gash in the ground....

  Their cries turned to screams as they plummeted down into the dark crevasse below them. Athdar watched in horror as the screams faded into a deathly silence. Only the sound of his breathing broke that stillness as he crept over to the side and peered down.

  The bottom lay about twenty feet below him and his friends lay strewn across the small floor of the gully. Even his seven-year-old mind understood some were dead and the others badly injured. Arms and legs and heads twisted to impossible angles foretold of much sorrow.

  He was the cause of this! Searching through his sack, he looked for the rope he always carried and could not find it. More soil loosened as he crept to the edge once more and poured down on his friends. A faint cough told him that someone yet lived. Shaking, he called out names until Robbie groaned back.

  ‘Robbie! I am coming down!’ he said, easing his legs over the side and planning to slide the rest of the way down to his friends.

  This was his fault. His fault. He must help them.

  ‘Stay,’ Robbie moaned out. ‘Ye’ll be of no help if you get trapped here.’

  Athdar paused, grabbing on to the exposed roots of a tree to keep from sliding down into the pit. ’Twas true. Without the means to pull his friends up, he was of no help. The winds rustling through the trees reminded him of the time passing. Soon it would be dark and new dangers would arise.

  ‘I will go for help,’ he called out in a loud voice. When no sound answered, he called out again, ‘Robbie! I will go for help!’

  Gathering up his sack, Athdar glanced around, trying to get his bearings. They’d run through the forest from east to west. Or had they? Now, it all looked the same and he took deep breaths, trying to keep the panic at bay.

  He had to find his way back home. He had to get help. He had to...

  Athdar ran, ducking through the low branches, seeking the edge of the river.

  * * *

  It took him hours to find it and then he could not tell which direction was home. Every time he grew too afraid or too tired, he thought about his friends at the bottom of the gully and ran on. Night fell while he searched for home and he collapsed at some point, sleeping a few hours before waking and continuing on.

  * * *

  Daybreak found him no closer to finding home or help and he gave in to the terror and the guilt and cried for his friends.

  And that’s when his father and uncle came charging through the forest on their horses. In a matter of hours, Athdar had managed to lead them back to the place where his friends lay injured and then he watched as the men in his clan rescued Robbie and the others from the ground below.

  It was terrible. His heart hurt as each one was carried out. Only one moved and the silence as the boys were examined tore him apart. Soon, the completely desolate group made their way back to the keep.

  Though the parents mostly whispered about the terrible accident, Athdar knew the truth—this was his doing. He had killed his friends just as much as if he’d pushed them from a cliff. For he had pushed them—with words, with insults—using their pride to edge them to the end and fling them into the darkness of the earthen pit. And when he could have saved them, he’d stumbled in the forest, losing his way and wasting precious hours that could have meant saving their lives.

  And, even if no one pointed an accusing finger at him, he saw the sidelong glances and questioning stares as three of his friends were buried. He heard the whispered doubts about his part in it and wanted to scream out his guilt. But his father and mother tried to convince him it was not his fault and it had not happened the way he said it had. It was a terrible accident to be put behind him. A horrible event which would fade in time.

  * * *

  And it did. No one ever mentioned it—his father, the laird, forbade it. No one mentioned the children who had died or their parents who had moved away or the injuries to the other one who had survived. No one asked too many questions and Athdar was told relentlessly he must push it all away. In time, all thoughts and memories of it and those friends faded, until, within a few years, it was a muted, empty part of his past.

  A part he no longer remembered.

  But someone remembered.

  Someone mourned their loss and sought solace in the madness brought by the sheer anguish and pain of it.

  And that someone decided to seek justice against the one responsible, even if he did not remember.

  Someone remembered.

  Chapter One

  Lairig Dubh, Scotland—AD 1375

  ‘Look! Look! There he is.’

  The excited whisper drew Isobel’s attention. Her friend Cora rarely took notice of the opposite sex, so this was something different, something special. She turned to see who her friend was watching.

  Athdar MacCallum, brother of the laird’s wife Jocelyn, strode through the yard, heading for the keep. From the decisive way he walked, looking neither right nor left, he had business with the laird and would not be slowed from his task. Still, he was a fine-looking man to gaze upon.

  ‘He is leaving to return home,’ she said. At Cora’s questioning frown, she nodded. ‘My father mentioned it this morn.’

  ‘Will he be here for the evening meal, do you think?’ Cora asked, watching her closely for her reply.

  Isobel wanted to show her excitement much as Cora did, but she held back. If she showed her interest in Athdar, word would make it back to her father and then trouble would begin. Just mentioning his name usually caused her father to look extremely bothered. And bothered was not something she, or anyone, wanted her father to be.

  The half-Norse, half-Scottish natural son of the Earl of Orkney did not suffer fools easily and at some time in the past, before even her birth, Athdar had done something very foolish and her father would never let it go. It mattered not that Athdar had been young and tended towards brash acts. It mattered not that he had suffered for his misjudgement. And it mattered not that the result had brought Jocelyn MacCallum to Lairig Dubh as the laird’s wife. All that mattered to her father was that Athdar’s character was lacking then and possibly still. Isobel turned away from the path and faced Cora.

  ‘I know not, Cora. I do not keep watch over his comings and goings.’

  Though she would if she could.

  As Isobel had watched her various cousins being matched and married these last couple of years and as she’d reached what she considered a marriageable age, the only man who had caught her attention was Athdar. Oh, it had nothing to do with his strong, muscled body or his piercing brown eyes or the way his long, brown hair framed the masculine angles of his face. Dabbing at the perspiration on her forehead with the back of her hand, Isobel realised she’d noticed his physical attributes much too much!

  There was also the fact that he intrigued her. Always respectful of her, he spoke to her as though she had a mind and did not shy away from her as all the other men did. Someone who would stand up to her father was 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.