Torrin caught her just in time. His hands around her waist, he tugged her back before she could fall.
"'Tis only me, Lady Jessie," he said in a calming voice and drew her to the safety of the level floor and away from the stair.
She released hard breaths, her hand pressed to her chest. "You scared the life out of me. What are you doing sneaking about up here?"
"I wasn't sneaking about. I was looking for you."
"Why?" Pulling back, she eyed him suspiciously.
"You didn't join us at breakfast." That was one reason, anyway. But mainly, he simply wanted to see her and talk to her.
"I was too busy, looking after the kitchen servants and what-not. Was Aiden not a good host?"
"Aye, of course. But he's not as bonnie as you." Torrin smiled.
Jessie's face flamed redder than her hair, then she knelt and stacked the plaid blankets. He picked up the one beside him and handed it to her as they stood.
"I thank you," she said, eyeing him.
"Why do you fear me?" he asked in a low tone so as to not frighten her further.
"I don't," she said firmly, defiance in her blue gaze. "I don't fear any man. I have more than one blade on my person at all times."
His gaze dropped to the foot-long Highland dirk he'd already seen, sheathed and attached to her belt. 'Twas the same size as his own and he had no doubt she knew how to wield it. Where else did she have knives hidden on her delectable, lithe body? When he imagined searching them out, his own body heated. "I hope you won't use them on me."
She lifted a brow in warning. "That remains to be seen."
Fierce arousal curled through him, surprising him. Since when did a dangerous woman excite him? Truth was he'd never known a woman like her. Now, he feared he would have fantasies about her holding him at knife-point and having her way with him. He ground his teeth to keep from grinning at that image.
Coming back to his senses, he asked, "What have I done to you that is so terrible?"
She narrowed her eyes and studied him for a long moment. "Naught. I'm simply not interested in any sort of marriage arrangement. Isn't that why you're here? Seeking a wife?"
Disconcerting heat rushed over him, and he cleared his throat. "I admire you for getting right to the crux of the matter," he said dryly. No other woman would speak to him with such boldness, and 'haps that was one reason he was intensely drawn to her. She had more courage than a lot of men he knew. "And, aye, indeed I'd hoped to get to know you, and allow you to get to know me."
"There is no point." She stepped around him and strode down the corridor.
Her tall, slender body and strong but graceful stride gave him hot chills. And that hair… red waves and braids halfway down her back. He yearned to see that hair spread across his pillow. She would be his wife; he could easily visualize it. Had been visualizing it for seven months. But how to convince her?
Mayhap they had something in common. She'd said she carried blades. Had she been trained in the art of warfare?
She disappeared inside a chamber… and screamed.
Torrin bolted toward the chamber, then slid sideways as he tried to stop at the doorway. "What the devil?" He saw naught in evidence that would frighten her. "Why did you scream?"
"I didn't scream," she said in a defensive tone.
He frowned, wondering if she had a streak of madness.
"I merely… cried out very briefly."
Aha. She would not want to display any weakness or vulnerability around him. "Why?" he asked, forcing himself not to smile as he sauntered further into the room.
"A pigeon was in here. The glass in the window is broken and the shutter is open." She motioned toward it. "The bird startled me, then flew back out. That is all."
"I see."
She headed across the room. "You don't need to slay any dragons for me, Chief MacLeod."
He grinned. "Nor break any scoundrels' noses?"
"Nay. None of those either." She deposited the blankets in a chest on the floor in the corner.
He paced to the window and gazed out over Balnakeil Bay, the cool sea breeze whipping at his hair through the broken glass. The water reflected the blue sky. Cliffs jutted out on either side of the bay and a sandy beach lay below where gentle waves splashed and slid onto shore.
"The weather is much different than it was last winter when I was here." He turned to look at her. "The view from here is beautiful." Although the scenery of the bay was lovely, it couldn't compare to her.
"Aye, indeed." Her attention was focused on pushing the trunk against the wall.
"Have you lived here at Dunnakeil your whole life?" Until last winter, he'd never visited Durness. Although he'd met Dirk and his father when they'd traveled south many years ago.
"Nay, I fostered with… another clan from the time I was seven summers until I was sixteen."
Jessie's stomach knotted for she'd almost forgotten who she was talking to. She'd come close to blurting out that she'd fostered with the Keiths. She could never let down her guard with Torrin, even though he was easy to talk to. While he seemed an honorable gentleman on the surface, she knew that deep down he was deadly.
"I fostered as well, but only for four years."
Fostering was a common practice among Highlanders. She knew the purpose was to form a network of clan alliances. Strange that their paths had only crossed one time prior to last winter.
She eyed Torrin and the thick chestnut hair lying on his broad shoulders. The way he steadily watched her with those perceptive evergreen eyes made her heart thump hard and her insides flutter. Was it fear or something else? A mixture of several conflicting emotions?
What in blazes was she doing alone in a bedchamber with him anyway? Although he didn't carry a sword or dirk at the moment, because she'd had all the visitors disarmed, he did retain his sgian dubh. And the small blade could be just as lethal as a large one. But strangely, although she knew she should fear him, she didn't. Each time she came face to face with him, she felt less afraid. Was she mad? She'd seen what he was capable of.
"I'd best check on the servants and see how midday meal is coming along." She headed toward the door.
"Do you enjoy archery?" he blurted.
She halted and turned back to him, wondering at his odd question. His green eyes gleamed with interest… in her. This awareness sent heat rushing over her.
"I've only tried it once," she said.
"So you only like the blades?"
She shrugged. "Why do you ask?"
"I could teach you how to shoot a bow."
That would be a wonderful skill to learn, but she knew 'twas only his ploy to get her alone and spend time with her. To allow her to get to know him. So she would want to marry him? Nay. Besides, she trusted him less than any man she'd ever met, other than MacBain. She shook her head. "'Tis unnecessary."
"It matters not. It might be fun."
She knew not what fun was anymore, though at one time she had enjoyed many pursuits. "People would watch, and I'm certain I'd be horrible at it."
"Nay, we'll slip away whilst no one is looking. You'll have no audience."
So, he was not ashamed to admit he wished to get her alone. She narrowed her eyes. "I don't think that would be wise, either."
"Bring a guard or two. Aye, bring two guards and a maid, for a chaperone. We'll have them turn their backs while you shoot at the target."
She could not figure him out. Was he a cold-blooded killer or a gallant bent on courting her? "I don't think 'tis a good idea."
His expression darkened. "We're alone here in this room and I'm not attacking you."
That was true, but mayhap he was trying to lower her guard.
"You don't trust me," he stated firmly. "Why? Do you think I'm like my brother, Nolan?"
Her heartbeat sped up. She'd not expected him to confront her about how she felt about him. And she certainly couldn't tell him why she didn't trust him. To do so could endanger her life. The Keiths would still see
k revenge against him if they learned of what he'd done eight years ago. Lyall was to have been the next chief. And his father still burned with the need for retaliation and justice.
"I have no inkling," she said. "I've never met Nolan."
"He's an outlaw. And I'm sure Lady Isobel told you what he tried to do to her. I'm not like him in the least."
Aye, Isobel had told her plenty. Enough for her to know she wanted to have naught to do with the MacLeods. And yet, something about him lured her. The sensual shape of his lips, the intent male interest in his eyes, his tall, lean-muscled body. 'Twas only physical attraction—a dangerous physical attraction, for no corresponding emotion lay beneath it.
"I'm glad you're not like him. Well, I must see to the kitchen servants about midday meal." She moved into the doorway.
"Lady Jessie?" he said in an almost desperate tone.
Startled, she paused, eying him with suspicion. Why would he say her name in such a way? Was he desperate to gain her affection? "Aye?"
"I hope you know I would never harm you. I'm here to protect you." His tone was softer, warmer, and she almost believed him.
Why couldn't he have been someone else? Someone she hadn't witnessed at his most brutal.
She nodded. Strangely, she wished she could trust him. And maybe he was telling the truth now, but that couldn't erase what he'd done. "I thank you."
Male voices echoed down the corridor and loud footsteps pounded toward them. Sticking her head out into the passageway again, she saw MacBain and one of his men charging toward her.
"There you are, m'lady. I've searched the castle for you."
"Why?"
"Because that vile MacLeod is missing, too, and I don't trust the whoreson."
She glanced back into the room at Torrin, who made for the door, a thunderous expression on his face.
"Are you wanting your nose broken again, MacBain?" he asked.
"What the hell are you doing here, in a bedchamber, with Lady Jessie?" MacBain's face turned as red as his injured nose. The area around his eyes was a bruised blue color.
"'Tis none of your concern."
"I wholeheartedly disagree. I came to woo and marry this lady in a most honorable way. You are naught but a rogue set on using her and casting her aside."
"Ha. You are the one who used her and cast her aside!" Torrin accused. "'Tis clear to everyone you will do the same again if given the chance. On the other hand, my intentions are honorable."
Mortified by Torrin's candor in regards to MacBain using her, Jessie wished she could crawl into one of the trunks.
"Well… nay. I'm a changed man," MacBain said, stretching his neck up as if trying to stand taller. "I have already apologized to her for my past mistakes. No one is perfect, not even you, MacLeod."
Torrin gave a derisive laugh and shook his head. "We'll let the lady decide," he said in a hushed tone.
"The lady has decided she is weary of this daft arguing." Jessie bypassed MacBain and headed toward the stairwell.
"Out of my way, MacBain," Torrin ordered.
Footsteps thudded on the wooden floor behind her. She quickened her pace down the stairwell, eager to be free of these two crowing roosters and have some time alone to think. Just before the last step, her foot caught in her skirts and she tumbled forward, her knee smashing onto the stone floor. Pain shot up her leg.
"Blast!"
"Lady Jessie?" Torrin exclaimed just behind her, then knelt by her side, his arm around her. "How badly are you hurt?"
"'Tis only a bruised knee," she assured him, trying to shrug off his strong, protective arm. Aye, the sensation of his arm around her was warm and comforting, but this only served to heighten her discomfort. She attempted to push to her feet.
"Here, let me help you." He removed his arm from around her and offered his hand instead.
Much as she was tempted to take his hand, she could not bring herself to. "Nay. I am well."
He released a breath. "Do not be so stubborn."
"What has happened?" MacBain thundered, standing over them.
"Can you not see? She fell," Torrin snapped.
"Allow me to help you up, m'lady." MacBain reached a hand down.
Annoyance verging on rage twisted through her. "Leave me be, MacBain!" she warned. "Go." She pointed toward the great hall.
"Very well. You had only to ask," he said in a petulant tone and strode away.
"I'm so sick of him," she muttered, shoving to her feet.
A slight grin quirked Torrin's lips as he rose to stand beside her. "I am as well."
She chuckled at how ridiculous the situation was and Torrin joined in. She liked the sound of his deep laugh.
"Are you certain nothing is broken?" he asked.
"Aye, I'll send for the healer, but I'm sure 'tis only a bruise."
"If I caused you to fall, I'm sorry." The sincerity in his dark green eyes caused her stomach to knot, for she did not understand him. He seemed not at all like the man who had killed Lyall with a lethal mixture of cold calculation and blazing rage. Who was Torrin, really, deep down?
She shook her head, trying to clear her thoughts. "'Twas not your fault. My foot simply caught."
"Well, I hope you're going to your chamber now to have the healer check you over."
"Maybe." She didn't care for any man telling her what to do, even if it was for her own good.
He tilted his head, giving her a mock warning look with a potent dose of sensuality mixed in. "If you don't, I'll be forced to carry you there myself."
Heat and awareness burning through her, she started to tell him that he certainly would not carry her anywhere, but a young chambermaid approached. "Would you see if you can find Nannag and send her to my chamber?" Jessie asked her.
"Aye. Of course, m'lady." The maid hastened away.
Trying to ignore Torrin, she limped toward the great hall and the stairwell leading to her chamber.
"Do you have pain when you walk?" Torrin asked, following her.
"Not much."
"I'm glad. But you should rest for several hours."
She glanced back at him, raising a brow. My, he liked to order people about. But she knew it was only because he was trying to be helpful.
"Do you need help getting to your chamber?"
"Nay. I thank you."
The last thing she needed was Torrin MacLeod carrying her to her bedchamber. She knew not how to perceive him, and the more she talked to him the more confused she became.
***
Just as gloaming was turning to night, Haldane MacKay disembarked from a galleon at Thurso with his fourteen men. From here, they'd take a smaller galley or bìrlinn along the north coast to Durness. He smiled, loving the idea of slipping up on his clan. They would regret making him the clan outcast and welcoming that bastard Dirk as their chief.
It had only been three days since Haldane and his men had left Inverness and escaped his cousin, Keegan MacKay, and the rest of them. He'd had Lady Seona, the love of his life, in his arms, but then they'd snatched her from him. He would kill Keegan slowly and torturously when he showed up in Durness, making Lady Seona a widow, then he would marry her. Donald McMurdo would kill Haldane's oldest brother, Dirk, as he'd been paid to do, long ago, and the chiefdom would be Haldane's, as his mother and father had always wanted.
If his annoying sister, Jessie, or his whiny brother, Aiden, got in his way, they would be killed, too. Any of the MacKay clan who didn't vow their allegiance to him would be dead.
Haldane fingered the leather pouch of silver and gold coins beneath his doublet that McMurdo had stolen from Dirk over a fortnight ago. It was lighter than it had been; he'd spent a great amount hiring men, some of whom had already died in skirmishes with the MacKays and their allies. But he was determined this money would last long enough for him to take over Dunnakeil Castle.
Behind him, a quarrel broke out amongst his men. When he turned, one scruffy whoreson had his dirk pressed against another's throat.
<
br /> "Halt! What the devil are you doing, Ferguson?" Haldane marched back toward them, a lone torch on the deserted docks lighting his way.
"This mangy cur MacGillie besmirched my ma's good name."
"Release him or you'll not get your pay. I didn't hire the lot of you miscreants to kill each other, but to kill MacKays. If you're all dead before we reach Dunnakeil, who's going to fight them?"
Ferguson lowered his blade.
MacGillie smirked and muttered a couple of words under his breath that Haldane didn't catch.
With a quick flick of his wrist, Ferguson slashed out and cut MacGillie's throat. Dark blood spurted from the gash.
"Damnation!" Haldane said, rage consuming him. "Kill that bastard," Haldane told McMurdo, beside him.
The old highwayman, with his long gray hair and scarred, pockmarked face, stomped into the fray. He slit Ferguson's throat in two seconds flat and shoved him to the ground beside his dying companion.
Haldane glanced around, hoping no witnesses lingered nearby. He saw no one in the dusky gloaming, other than his own men. "Leave them where they are. The rest of you, if you kill or even attempt to kill anyone else in this group, this is what you'll get. Do you ken?"
They all nodded and cast wide-eyed looks at each other and the men bleeding to death on the ground.
"Go see about hiring a bìrlinn," Haldane said to McMurdo. "And I'll search for more men to recruit to replace these two bastards. We'll likely need several more to defeat the MacKays."
McMurdo nodded and strode off to do his bidding. Haldane liked that the old man rarely questioned anything he told him. And that he was a ruthless killer. Haldane had learned much from him over the past several months.
Now, he was so close to getting everything he wanted he could hardly stand it. All he had to do was kill his brother, his cousin, and maybe his sister, if she tried to stop him from taking Dunnakeil.
Chapter Four
Looking out an open upstairs window, Jessie couldn't help but glare at the spectacle below her in the bailey—grown men acting like stags during the autumn rut. Instead of locking antlers, Torrin and MacBain charged each other with dull swords. At least the weapons were said to be dull, so the men wouldn't kill each other accidentally. Although she had authorized this training session, she was starting to regret it, because at times it looked far too real.
My Notorious Highlander (Highland Adventure 5) Page 4