Torrin had heard Aiden play before and was just as impressed this time as he had been in the past at the lad's talent with any instrument he touched.
Torrin kept an eye on Gregor MacBain beside him. The man had already guzzled several goblets of wine, then he pulled out a whisky flask and downed a long swallow.
He caught Torrin watching him and gave a mock smile. "I would offer you some, MacLeod, but I only have a wee dram left."
"I have no hankering for whisky at the moment." He had to keep a clear head and protect Jessie from this scoundrel. No telling what he would do once the drink took hold of him.
"Where in blazes did Lady Jessie get to?" MacBain asked. "I want to dance with the lass."
"I have no inkling," Torrin muttered, then took another bite of the tender venison they'd been served. Although he'd love to see Jessie himself, 'twas probably best that she'd made herself scarce if the imbecile sitting beside him was going to harass her. He doubted Jessie would want to dance with MacBain.
"I'll not let her shun me. I'm going to find her." He pushed back his chair.
Damnation. Grinding his teeth, Torrin did the same and trailed after MacBain as he headed toward a narrow stairwell leading up. Torrin wanted to finish his meal, the best he'd had in weeks. MacBain staggered and grabbed onto the rope which served as a stair rail. This couldn't be good. He dragged himself up the stone turnpike stairway. Torrin followed, and although he wasn't trying to hide from MacBain, the man already appeared too sotted to realize he was trailing behind him.
"Lady Jessie!" MacBain bellowed at the top of the steps. "I have a gift for you, my bonnie lass!"
Coming up behind him, Torrin saw that Jessie stood in the corridor talking with a maid. The maid hastened away. Jessie placed her hands upon her hips. "Your room is almost ready, MacBain. But you must be patient."
He stumbled forward. "Nay, 'tis not that. I brought you something special." Awkwardly, he dug into his sporran.
Jessie's annoyed gaze darted to Torrin. A lightning flash through the narrow window lit her hair to flaming red and her eyes to bright sky-blue. Her vivid beauty snatched his breath and ignited excitement within him. How he wished this buffoon, MacBain, was not here. He'd do everything in his power to convince Jessie to allow him a kiss.
Her attention switched to MacBain who held up a pendant, dangling it from his fingers.
"This is for you, m'lady." He bowed, then offered the pendant to her.
She crossed her arms over her chest. "I cannot accept any gifts from you."
"What? Are you mad, woman? 'Tis real gold and rubies."
"I'm not interested."
"You're still mad at me," he whined.
Torrin rolled his eyes. Had the man no pride?
"A thoussssand apologies," MacBain slurred. "Hope you can forgive me my past misdeeds."
"I forgive you, but I still cannot accept any gifts," she said, as if bored. "Please go back down to the great hall until your chamber is prepared."
Torrin grinned, glad she'd refused the pendant. Clearly, she was a woman who could not be swayed by expensive gifts, and he admired her for it. He was starting to like her more with every moment he was in her presence.
MacBain let out an exasperated breath and unsteadily dropped the pendant back into his sporran while he wavered back and forth. "S-save it for later then. I'll change your mind, Jessss-ie. Just you wait and see."
"Nay, I think not."
"You protest too much. Come dance, bonnie lass." He staggered toward her.
"I'm too busy to dance, and too tired besides."
"Nonsense. Dancing will make you feel better." He grasped her hand.
She snatched it away. "Go downstairs to the great hall," she ordered through clenched teeth.
Torrin wanted to intervene and kick MacBain's arse back down the stairs, but considering what a strong woman Jessie was, she would likely want to take care of this problem herself. She had to make MacBain understand she had no interest in him, but considering how daft he was, 'twould no doubt take a while to get it through his thick skull.
"Only if you come with me." MacBain grabbed for her hand again, but she drew back and he teetered into the wall.
Torrin took a step forward, ready to seize the bastard if he became more aggressive.
"You're drunk, MacBain. Go into the guest room and sleep it off." Her face red, Jessie pointed at an open doorway.
"Nay. This is no time to sleep. 'Tis time for dancin'… and lovin'."
"You're mad," she muttered, disgust obvious in her low tone.
Torrin shook his head at how ridiculous the man was. "MacBain, leave the lady alone."
MacBain spun around and swayed, but caught himself just before he toppled sideways. "How long have you been there?"
"Long enough. Come. Let's go downstairs. You're being a nuisance," he said in a reasonable tone.
"'Tis nay your concern, MacLeod! Leave us be."
"I'll not allow you to accost Lady Jessie."
"I'm not accost-ing anyone," he slurred. "This lady is my wife."
"Wrong!" Jessie said, blue fire in her eyes with the lightning flash. "Go with MacLeod or I will have the guards toss you out into the storm."
"Och. You would treat me in such a way, m'lady?" MacBain whined.
"Indeed," she said firmly.
Torrin rolled his eyes. He'd never seen such a pathetic drunk.
MacBain sent her a glare, then Torrin, before wobbling along the corridor the way he'd come. Torrin followed him, then glanced back at Jessie. She was staring at him, or rather at his plaid-covered arse. Her gaze lifted, connecting with his. Her fiery blush was evident, even in the low candlelight of the corridor. She quickly turned and disappeared into the nearest chamber.
A thrill coursing through him, he grinned. Mayhap there was more hope than he'd realized. He was fair certain she had been eying his physique.
***
Later that night, an urgent voice broke into Torrin's restless sleep. "M'laird."
He opened his eyes to find Luag, the guard he'd posted in the corridor, with his head stuck inside the door and a lantern in his hand. Torrin sat up. "Aye?"
"MacBain left his room."
"Damnation." Torrin leapt up from the bed, still fully clothed for just this reason. "Where did he go?"
"That direction." Luag pointed toward the stairwell.
Torrin rushed after him. If the knave had it in his head to find Jessie's bedchamber, he would break his leg. Hopefully, he was only going in search of a garderobe after his excessive drinking.
A MacKay guard stood at the bottom of the steps.
"Which way did MacBain go?"
He pointed across the great hall to another stairwell that led up.
Torrin hurried up the steps and found another corridor and MacBain, carrying a lantern. He knocked at a door. Rage lit Torrin's veins on fire. Was that Jessie's bedchamber? If so, how had MacBain learned where it was? No one guarded this corridor at all.
"Hell," Torrin said under his breath. Why would she not have someone guarding her door with all these visitors about?
MacBain tried the door latch, and Torrin was ready to break the whoreson's neck. The door didn't budge, thank the saints. Jessie had barred it.
MacBain knocked lightly.
With no storm to cover the sounds of his footsteps this time, Torrin slipped from his hiding place and crept up behind the man.
"Who is it?" Jessie asked from the other side of the thick oak door.
"What are you doing, MacBain?" Torrin said over his shoulder.
The man jumped and turned at the same time, bumping hard against the door. "What the devil are you doing following me?" he growled. At least he seemed almost sober now.
"Protecting the lady," Torrin said, keeping his voice low. "What are you doing?"
"None of your concern. Leave," he commanded through clenched teeth.
Torrin shook his head, giving MacBain his most menacing look.
"Don't op
en the door, Lady Jessie," Torrin warned her. "MacBain was trying to pay you a midnight visit."
She yanked the door open and her glare in the dim light pierced each of them. "Go, MacBain. I don't wish to see you, day or night."
The man's narrowed gaze remained on Torrin, then abruptly he tried to barrel his way past Jessie, into her room. Torrin caught him by his shoulder-length hair and yanked him back. The man struck out but missed. Releasing him, Torrin punched him in the nose and sent him sprawling to the wooden floor with a loud crash. MacBain growled and muttered curses as he held his bleeding nose.
"Bar the door, Lady Jessie," Torrin warned with a quick glance at her. She wore a plaid blanket wrapped around her with only a sliver of her white smock visible at the top of her chest. He quickly switched his gaze away from the appealing sight, lest he become distracted. "I'll take care of this blackguard."
"I thank you." The door slammed and the bar clunked into place.
Torrin shook his head, glaring down at the imbecilic man. "Are you daft?"
MacBain drew his blood-covered hand away from his crushed nose. "You bastard, I thought you a friend and ally or I would never have allowed you to come here with me."
Annoyance twisted through Torrin. "You didn't allow me to do anything. I was on my way here before I ever met you."
"So you say."
"I consider the MacKays friends and allies. I'll not let you harm one of them, certainly not a lady."
"I'm not planning to harm her. Do you ken naught about seduction, man?"
Torrin snorted. "If you consider that seduction, your skills are greatly lacking."
MacBain merely glared and shoved himself to his feet. Muttering insults and curses, he stumbled away, holding his broken nose.
Torrin glanced back at Jessie's door, glad she was safe this time. But knowing how sneaky MacBain was, he'd have to be ever vigilant.
***
Jessie opened the door a crack and peered through. She watched Torrin stride confidently toward the stairwell, marveling at his height, broad shoulders and lean waist. Of course, he was an impressive warrior, but what amazed her most was his protective nature. She would've never guessed it based on what she'd seen in the past.
Although she considered herself a courageous woman, she would never be brave enough to confront him about killing her foster brother. But now she wouldn't be able to rest until she knew the truth. What reason would Torrin have had to kill Lyall Keith?
Silently, she closed the door and barred it, thankful that Torrin had stopped MacBain from taking advantage of her. Not that she would've let the rogue get away with anything. But she'd hate to stab the man while he was trying to crawl between her sheets. Knocking him on the head would've been another option, but she preferred the broken nose Torrin had given him. She grinned.
What was she going to do about Torrin? She paced to the fireplace and added more peat to the coals. What if he decided to stay for days or weeks? She hoped he would stay at least until MacBain left. She appreciated him putting a stop to MacBain's plans.
After removing the blanket she'd wrapped around herself and spreading it over the bed, she slid under the covers, thinking how Torrin disturbed her on so many levels. When she'd first met him last winter, face to face, she'd been near speechless. Immediately, she knew that he was the one who'd executed Lyall. She would recognize Torrin's face anywhere—handsome as the devil and just as wicked.
Not only was he a frightening and lethal warrior, an image from her worst nightmarish memories, but she also felt herself strangely drawn to his sinfully attractive presence. How could she be drawn to someone she knew to be a killer?
Since then, she'd gone over and over what she'd seen that day eight years ago. Had she misunderstood it, misinterpreted it? Although she'd only been sixteen summers, she remembered the day clearly for 'twas the most terrifying, traumatizing day of her life.
When she'd heard the men approaching on foot, yelling curses and threats, she'd climbed the old oak and hidden among the branches and leaves. Knowing her bright red hair might betray her, she'd covered her head with her plaid arisaid.
The eight MacLeods—although she hadn't known who they were at the time—had chased her foster brother and his best friend across the hilly cattle pasture. They wore various weaves of dull plaids, which would help conceal them among the heather and bracken if they were deer stalking. But clearly they were not deer stalking; they were out for her foster brother's blood. They all carried broadswords, dirks, and targes.
Once Lyall stopped and faced his pursuers, Torrin and one other man had been the only two to approach Lyall and his friend. They were even in number and about the same age, early twenties, but 'twas obvious at first glance the MacLeods were larger and more skilled. Torrin was angry, growling low words that Jessie couldn't understand from thirty or forty feet away. Lyall had denied whatever it was Torrin accused him of. Obviously terrified of the taller man, Lyall had tried to run but Torrin hadn't let him. Don't force me to stab you in the back, Torrin had yelled. Pick up your sword, face me and fight like a man!
Fumbling, Lyall picked up the weapon while Torrin waited. Without warning, he charged Torrin, the sword aimed at his stomach and Jessie thought he actually might best him. But at the last second, Torrin used his own weapon to knock away the tip of Lyall's blade.
Lyall leapt back. Their blades clashed twice more, then, in two quick motions, Torrin knocked the sword from Lyall's hand and slit his throat. Moments later, his friend suffered the same fate at the hand of Torrin's second.
Holding her breath, Jessie had clamped a hand over her mouth and remained frozen in place. Not only was she terrified of being discovered, hiding in that tree, but also seeing her foster brother slain… she had never seen anything so gruesome. She could do naught to help him. She only had a small sgian dubh with her, and if she'd charged onto the field, she would've been butchered in a trice beside her foster brother. Those men wouldn't have left a live witness.
The strangers had quickly disappeared, leaving their victims' dead bodies lying where they'd fallen on the blood-soaked ground. Once Jessie, frozen in fear, could move again, she'd run back to the castle and told her foster father what had happened. She hadn't known at the time that the MacLeods were the culprits, because they'd worn no identifying clothing or plant badges. The Keiths could not exact the revenge they craved. And no one knew the motive for the strangers attacking. Would Torrin tell her if she asked? Or would her life be in danger if he knew what she'd witnessed?
Chapter Three
As they broke their fast, MacBain glared at Torrin MacLeod, sitting further along the high table in the great hall of Dunnakeil Castle. Although he didn't remember much from the night before, MacBain did remember the moment MacLeod had smashed his fist into his nose. Pain had slammed through his head and he'd ended up on the floor, half addled. His head still pained him this morn and his nose ached something fierce.
He'd not yet decided what he would do to MacLeod, but he would exact his revenge. The bastard had a ruthless reputation far and wide. Last year, he'd subdued two other, smaller clans and forced their allegiance to him. Would he do the same thing to the MacKays next? If only he'd brought more men with him, they could easily defeat the MacLeods. He'd have to warn the MacKays that Torrin MacLeod was here to subdue them and take over their lands. Much easier to do while their chief was away.
One thing concerned him even more than MacLeod's reputation—the way he was watching Lady Jessie. Every time she walked through the great hall, MacLeod's gaze followed her with great interest, even lust. The bastard had pretended he barely knew who she was. But now 'twas obvious that MacLeod wanted her, too. He wasn't getting her! That was a certainty.
When MacLeod wasn't watching Jessie, he was eying MacBain in a highly suspicious manner. Aye, you'd best not turn your back on me, you roguish whoreson.
MacBain would simply have to stay until Dirk MacKay returned so they could work out a marriage contract. Even if i
t took weeks or months, he wouldn't mind. That would give Lady Jessie time to become smitten with him again. But with MacLeod in the way, that might be more difficult. He had to get rid of the lecher somehow.
***
"Have you seen Lady Jessie?" Torrin quietly asked one of the servants, then glanced back over the great hall. No one seemed to be paying him any mind. MacBain had gone outside moments ago.
"Last I saw her, she was headed up the stairwell, m'laird." The maid curtseyed.
"I thank you." Torrin climbed the stairs, wondering how Jessie had slipped past him. She had made herself scarce at breakfast and had not joined the others at high table, or any table. She must have grabbed a few bites in the kitchen.
MacBain's nose was crooked and red, and his eyes turning purplish-blue from the blow Torrin had gifted him with the night before. The other men had teased and ribbed MacBain because they knew Torrin had done the damage and why. Apparently, MacBain had told one of the men the night before and word had spread.
MacBain had done naught but glare while they broke their fast. Torrin had watched him closely, anticipating retaliation. Men had killed for far less.
Now, as Torrin walked down a narrow corridor and up another staircase, he wondered where Jessie was. If she was in her bedchamber, he wouldn't disturb her, but he did wish to speak to her. Clearly, she was avoiding him, though he was unsure why. He'd done naught to anger her. After last night, it should be clear that he wished to help her and protect her. How could she fault him for that?
After searching the deserted top floor, he headed back down the spiral stair, only to come face to face with Jessie. She let out a squeal and jumped backward, tossing the blankets she carried and flinging out her arms.
My Notorious Highlander (Highland Adventure 5) Page 3