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.

"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.

With a fearsome grimace and a loud growl, MacBain rushed Torrin, who easily evaded his blade.

"What's going on here?" a deep voice yelled through the portcullis.

Who was that? At first she thought it might be some of the MacKays returning from their long journey. But, nay, she didn't recognize the dark-haired man revealed by the late afternoon sunshine.

Everyone stopped and stared. Torrin stepped back several paces but kept MacBain within his sights.

"Iain Stewart, is that you?" Torrin called.

"Of course." The man drew close to the iron bars, his smile evident.

"What the devil are you doing here?"

"Ran off and left me while I was passed out, aye? Some friend you are. I couldn't resist hunting you down and watching you make a damned fool of yourself." He chuckled.

Torrin glanced around, looking a bit chagrinned, his eyes meeting Jessie's for a couple of moments, then he headed for the portcullis. Until he'd glanced up at her, she hadn't realized he knew she was watching.