"Coward," he murmured just behind her in a teasing tone.

Should she run out into the storm, or be brave and face him? "This is a church, in case you haven't noticed. 'Twould be sacrilege," she whispered.

"Are you thinking God cannot hear you if you whisper?" he asked.

"Nay, of course, 'tis only…" What? She didn't know, but she couldn't kiss Torrin in a church… or anywhere.

"Kissing is not a sin," he said in an intimate tone that made her crave exactly what they were discussing.

"Some would disagree with you for it incites…" She snapped her mouth shut.

"Incites what?"

She bit her lip refusing to utter the word lust to him. Saints! He did make her lustful. The last time she'd felt that way, with MacBain, it had resulted in naught but embarrassment and a shattered heart.

"I thought you a brave lady… but alas, 'tis not true."

"Don't tease me, MacLeod," she warned, sending him a glare that she hoped would make him back down.

"Why not? 'Tis fun." He smiled. Blast! He had a beautiful and compelling smile.

"For you, I'm certain," she muttered, annoyed with herself because of her response to him, and annoyed with him for prickling his way beneath her skin.

"I will make the kiss fun for you as well," he promised. "The added benefit is that I won't tease you anymore, once you've proven your bravery."

"You are naught but a manipulative rogue."

He grinned, a look of pure mirth, and she could not look away. "I'll not argue with that. Would you kiss a knave in the… nave?"

Before she could help herself, she snorted with laughter, for they were indeed standing in the nave of the church. Reverend MacMahon would castigate them severely if he were to hear their conversation.

Torrin glanced around behind himself, then whispered, "No one will see us."

"God will see us," she reminded him, hoping he would cease his pursuit.

"God sees us wherever we are, not just in churches."

She blew out an exasperated breath. "You are mad. Why on earth would I want to kiss you? You're but a thorn in my side."

"Well, there are many reasons. There is naught thorny about a kiss, except 'haps my beard stubble." He scrubbed a hand against his roughened cheek. "I did shave this morn, but alas it keeps growing," he muttered.

She bit back a smile and eyed his short stubble, wondering just how rough and scratchy it was. Her lips and the skin of her face tingled with anticipation of feeling his manly texture. But, nay, she couldn't.

"A kiss would tell you whether you should like me or not," he said, his eyes darkening in a seductive manner.

"How so?" she asked, trying to maintain some semblance of decency in a church. "'Twill not be a judge of your character."

"Nay, but it will tell you whether we suit. If you like the kiss, you might like to get to know me better." His confident look told her he was certain she would like any kiss he gave.

"And if I don't like it, will you leave me alone and cease your pursuit?"

For a moment, he appeared crestfallen and solemn. "Aye. If you insist. But you cannot lie. I'll know it if you do."

Her stomach knotted, for she feared she'd just agreed to kiss Torrin. "I don't lie. I never lie."

He smirked. "Let's see if you do." Taking her hands, he stepped closer. She backed against the door, her pulse pounding against her throat.

If only she could open the door and escape before he reached her, but 'twas impossible. Besides, she wasn't certain she wanted to escape. Maybe a kiss from him truly would tell her whether she should like him or not. She had hated that first kiss from MacBain and that should've told her to run the other way.

"Listen." She glanced at the ceiling, hoping to distract Torrin. "The storm is passing."

"Good." But he wasn't distracted. Instead, he was focused on her eyes and her lips. He leaned closer, his mouth hovering over hers. His breath warmed her skin. She liked his scent—a mixture of leather, sea air, and masculinity—and now 'twas luring her closer.

Needing to end the suspense now, she reached up and pressed her lips to his. Saints! His lips were both soft and firm. His scent threatened to disorient her. Startled at her response to him, she pulled back, breaking the kiss, but he came with her.

"'Twas not yet a proper kiss." His lips captured hers again but this time with total possession and domination. Of a certainty, 'twas a rogue's kiss, and it threatened to seduce her. He slipped one hand into her hair and with the other, he cradled her face. She found her own hands caressing the hard muscles of his back.

His actions compelled her to open her mouth and she did, inviting ever deepening kisses. Sinful kisses that made her forget where she was… forget everything but him. His tongue flicked against hers, stroked with fiery erotic movements such as she'd never experienced before. His taste was even more bewitching than his scent and it made her imagine wicked things. The two of them in her bed, their naked skin sliding.

A moan reached her ears and she realized she'd made that shocking sound. He growled an even louder moan in response and the kiss grew fiercer. Pushing her against the door, he consumed her mouth with fire and passion.

Abruptly, he pulled back, breathing hard, watching her. "Now tell me, Lady Jessie, did you enjoy that, or nay?" he asked in a low murmur.

What? He expected her to talk now? After that? His green eyes were dark as a pine forest at gloaming. His heated look dared her to deny it.

She nodded, then shook her head.

"Which is it?" He darted a glance down at her lips again as if he might want to make a meal out of her. Some part of her wished he would.

"Aye," she whispered.

"And what does that mean? You want another?"

"Nay."

He gave her a crooked grin and moved closer. "You said you didn't lie."

'Twas true; she was lying. She grasped the plaid that crossed his chest and pulled him closer. He made a sensual purring sound and took possession of her mouth again.

Her arms around his neck, she couldn't get close enough to him. With his hands at the small of her back, he drew her tight against him, and she was certain the hardness she felt pressed against her lower belly was not his sporran.

He pulled back an inch, gazing into her eyes, his heavy-lidded and dark with passion. "We suit very well indeed, m'lady, as I knew we would from the first moment I saw you."

Clearly, he was hinting about marriage again. Fear shot through her, along with a good dose of mortification. She yanked her arms from around his neck, unable to believe she'd indulged in such a sinful kiss in a church. The good reverend might make her marry Torrin if he learned of it.

She turned, jerked open the heavy wooden door, and ran outside. Most of the gale had passed and only a light mist of rain and a breeze remained. She strode quickly along the walkway and through the wooden gate of the stone-walled kirkyard.

Torrin's footsteps sounded behind her, but she ignored him and headed toward the castle. Of a certainty, she'd enjoyed the kiss, but that didn't mean she wanted to marry him. He was too pushy and domineering by far. She had found contentment living here with her family and clan. Why alter something that wasn't a problem?

She had wanted a family of her own once, during her first betrothal and even when she'd been in the trial marriage to MacBain. But when that faux marriage had shattered upon the rocks, some of her dreams had died. Maybe she was barren as MacBain had accused. And if so, why would Torrin want to marry her? He needed an heir.