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 you support these matches?’ she asked. A hint of something—suspicion? sarcasm?—entered her voice as she asked.
Connor laughed. ‘Is the game on then, wife?’ Kissing her, he watched as her eyes lit with mischief. ‘So it is, then.’
He released her and looked over the side of the battlements down to the yard. Her brother had left their meeting abruptly and now he fought with one of the younger warriors, Ranald, before a shouting and cheering crowd. Even from this distance, Connor could read the distraction in Dar’s fighting style. And, if he was right, he knew the person causing it.
‘He notices her.’ He felt Jocelyn tense and waited for her to object to his guess. ‘Rurik will not be happy.’
‘Athdar has sworn not to marry again,’ Jocelyn whispered as they watched her brother losing control of the match below. ‘He keeps so much pain within himself.’
Connor remained silent then, knowing that it could be telling their own story again—the pain, the refusal to marry, the inability to hope that love could be within their grasp until it was nearly too late. Only the woman before him had saved his soul and his heart from eternal darkness.
‘Rurik has hopes she will settle her heart elsewhere, and that’s without Dar’s name being mentioned.’
‘I did not think Rurik one to hold a grudge for so very long,’ Jocelyn said, facing him once more and searching his face. ‘It was so long ago and Athdar was so young. And it was only an insult, not an attack.’
‘You have not involved yourself with Dar’s affairs before. Why take up this challenge now?’ he asked. He was trying to figure out if this would indeed become their next matchmaking challenge.
‘It was not my place, Connor. I had accepted that,’ she said, as sadness filled her voice.
‘Had?’ That was not good.
‘I see the longing in his gaze at gatherings. He wants what we have. He wants a wife, bairns. Love. He wants it and yet he fears taking another chance.’
‘So mayhap you should leave him to making that decision?’ It could not hurt to nudge his beloved in the right direction. ‘He is a chief now, with responsibilities. I do not think he would take it well to know you plot about him.’ Hoping that was enough to push her away from making this attraction between Dar and Isobel more than that, he added, ‘I have to see to things. I will see you at table?’
She smiled, acquiesced even, but he knew in his soul that she would not turn her efforts from a possible match between her brother and Rurik’s daughter. And there would be hell to pay on all sides if that happened. He did not have the time to make her see the folly and danger in her choice, but he would see to it later. This night. In their chambers.
‘Until then,’ she whispered, reaching up on her toes to touch their mouths together.
He watched the seductive sway of her hips as she walked away and realised she’d not denied that she would pursue a match. Outplayed once more by desire for his wife, Connor cursed under his breath and walked away in the other direction. He needed to have a conversation with Rurik.
Or mayhap not.
For, once fired up, the commander of all his troops was formidable even for him. Mayhap this time he would hold back and see how this all played out?
With thoughts of what would await him in his bedchamber tempting him, Connor walked off to find someone to fight. It was a good way to clear his mind and sharpen his wits. And if his wife and the other mothers had decided on a match, he and the other fathers would need their wits about them.
From the smug expression that lay across her lovely face as she turned from him, he knew that even his wits might not win this battle.
Chapter Two
Since he was a visiting nobleman and considered more family than ally, Athdar was not surprised by the lack of formality during the evening meal. He’d shared many meals here in Connor’s hall and most of them were like this one—family, friends, villagers and anyone in need of a meal. Conversations ebbed and flowed throughout the meal, laughter echoed high into the rafters and those dining moved between the small gathered groups to talk with others.
As always, his eye was drawn to Connor, his brother-by-marriage for this last score or so of years. His mentor in many things, his nemesis in others, Connor never minded his presence or his opinions, but, watching as the man’s gaze softened each time he glanced at one of his children or at his wife, Dar’s gut tightened with a mix of envy, jealousy and admiration. That the fearless, ruthless Earl of Douran could yet have a soft place in his heart made Dar want everything Connor had...yet again.
Drinking deeply from his cup of ale, he nodded to several who passed by and offered greetings to him. Glancing around the hall, he found Rurik sitting at a table with
