"Indeed."

"I hope you won't hold it against me any longer."

She shook her head, but he still saw the uncertainty in her eyes. 'Twould take time to build trust, especially after what she'd believed about him. He could be patient and prove he was truthful and honorable. And he would start with how he dealt with his new enemy.

"I thought we would hold the MacBains in the dungeon until the morn, and then my men will escort them off MacKay lands. Do you agree?" he asked.

"Aye, of course. I never want to see Gregor MacBain again."

Those words thrilled him, but Torrin suppressed a grin. "I'm glad to hear it. I'll tell my men." He moved toward the door.

"Some of the MacKays may want to go with them tomorrow."

"That would be good."

Leaving the room, Torrin felt victorious—jubilant, even. Finally, he knew what was keeping Jessie from him. He hadn't even minded confessing. He was a warrior, a soldier, and as such he sometimes had to kill enemies. 'Twas the nature of it. He wasn't proud of it, but he also wasn't ashamed. Often, he had to do things he didn't want to, but he did them for the sake of his family and clan.

Most of all, he was happy that Jessie understood, that she could imagine the agony he'd gone through seeing his sister so horribly beaten and dying right before his eyes. Jessie was a caring, intelligent woman—one he was starting to cherish even more than ever before. It wasn't just a physical attraction anymore. Sometimes, when he looked into her beautiful blue eyes, he could hardly breathe. He feared she was capturing his heart.

***

MacBain ground his teeth as he was escorted from the dungeon by one of the MacLeods, his stomach growling because he'd refused to eat the moldy old bread they'd been given to break their fast. Torrin stood in the courtyard, waiting, tall and conceited as if he thought himself a prince. MacBain would see him suffer for all he'd done. And now 'twas obvious to him Torrin MacLeod was after Jessie. Well, he was not going to get her, no matter what MacBain had to do.

"Don't give them their weapons until they're off MacKay land," Torrin said, sending a cocky glare his way.

"Whoreson," MacBain muttered under his breath, but too low for anyone to hear. He knew when to keep his mouth shut. He also knew when to strike out in revenge. 'Twould be soon.

Two of the MacLeods nodded and mounted up. Ten heavily armed MacKays were also waiting in the courtyard. When the guard behind MacBain unlocked the manacles binding his hands, he swung up onto his horse and walked it toward the portcullis.

Where was Jessie this morn? He glanced toward the entrance to the great hall but saw no sign of her. If she wouldn't marry him, then he would make certain she never married anyone.

***

Jessie rushed into the great hall and skidded to an abrupt halt. She'd slept late and the tables were full to overflowing with those breaking their fast. Torrin sat at the high table with Aiden, Iain and several others. With his gaze locked on her, Torrin arose and pulled out the chair beside him.

When she realized how badly she wanted to sit there, heat rushed over her. Still unsure whether or not she trusted him, she cautiously made her way forward. She had gotten little sleep the night before as she'd thought about what Torrin had revealed to her, and what she remembered from eight years ago. She prayed he had told the truth, but there was no way to know for sure.

"A good morn to you, m'lady," Torrin said with a slight bow.

"Good morn." She sat, still feeling overheated.

Iain, sitting on Torrin's opposite side, also greeted her.

"How are you feeling? That bruise on your face is darker," Torrin said.

"'Tis naught. I'm only a bit sore from the scuffle."

"I found your dirk and sgian dubh this morn," Torrin said. "I'll give them to you after the meal."

"Oh, I thank you. Were they damaged?"

"Nay, they're in good repair and sharp as razors."

She smiled and a servant placed a wooden bowl of thick oat porridge before her. It held a generous chunk of melting butter and honey, just the way she liked it. With a wooden spoon, she stirred it and asked, "What of the MacBains?"

"Just after daybreak, two of my men and ten MacKays headed out with them."

"Was there any conflict?"

"Nay. All were well-behaved. Since they're outnumbered and unarmed, I'm thinking they'll be as sweet as wee lassies until they reach the MacKay border."

She wondered at his analogy and found it amusing. "Not all wee lassies are sweet."

Torrin snickered. "Surely, you cannot mean yourself."

"I've been told I was a hellion at seven summers."

He grinned. "I can well imagine that… considering what a hellion you are now."

Her mouth dropped open and he laughed, his eyes darkening in an enticing way.

Iain leaned forward, frowning. "Do you not ken 'tis not polite to laugh at a lady?"

Torrin got his amusement under control… barely, his green eyes sparkling with mischief. "I doubt that a hellion would like a polite man."

Heat washed over her and she imagined her face turning as red as her hair. She ate and tried to ignore him. 'Twas impossible, of course, but she could pretend.

Torrin leaned closer. "Pray pardon, Lady Jessie. But I do love the way you carry plenty of weapons about."

Ha. He probably detested it, for it meant if he tried anything, she could well defend herself. She'd best change the subject before the conversation embarrassed her any further. "Do you think MacBain will return?"

Torrin sobered. "'Tis possible, so we must be ready. And because of this, I think it best that I stay until Dirk and his company of men return."

Iain leaned forward. "I'll stay too, m'lady. You'll need me to protect you from this rogue."

Torrin snorted. "You're daft. I've been naught but a gentleman."

"Well… I thank you both for staying to help us. I fear we've angered MacBain greatly and he may seek revenge."

"'Tis true."

The longer Jessie sat beside Torrin, the more aware of him she became. His manly scent of leather, the great outdoors, and the familiar mint soap made here at the castle near entranced her. Somehow, he made the soap smell different and more compelling. His height, the broadness of his shoulders and his overall presence also distracted her from her meal. She could've been eating sand and would not have known the difference.

Her hands jittery, she devoured the porridge as quickly as possible and arose from the table.

"You cannot be finished already," Torrin said.

"Aye, I always eat a light breakfast. Pray pardon, but I must see if the kitchen servants are keeping on task."

She hastened away and down the stairs. In the stone-vaulted kitchen, she glanced around, seeing that everyone was completing their duties, just as they always did. The heat of the kitchen fires was intolerable on her already overheated skin. She exited the doorway into the walled kitchen garden and deeply inhaled the cool breeze off the sea.

She did not understand her reaction to Torrin this morn. She felt as if she'd been in an oven. Of a certainty, she had always been drawn to him against her will. But now that she no longer believed him a murderer, she found him far more appealing. 'Twas as if an invisible barricade had been knocked down. The sensation of sitting next to him had been too intense. She knew not how she would react if he touched her.

His cocky, confident smile and teasing manner tempted her more than she could believe. He could make her smile and blush without any effort at all. Closing her eyes, she remembered and relished everything about him.