His stay here wasn't just about convincing Jessie to marry him anymore. He was feeling something he'd never felt before. He didn't know what he would've done if MacBain had spirited her away and married her. Probably killed the whoreson.

But he didn't want to kill anyone. He much preferred that MacBain stay far away.

Torrin paced along the battlements to the opposite side of the castle where he gazed out over the green hills dotted with gray rocks and black-faced sheep. He remembered his last conversation with Jessie. It had been beyond serious, which had obviously caused her anxiety and worry about her future. What they needed was to simply relax and enjoy themselves. Life did not have to be solemn all the time.

He'd reveled in the wrestling match and the archery lessons he'd given her the day before, but most of all, he'd relished the kiss. 'Haps he shouldn't have kissed her in the kirk, but 'twas his only opportunity and he didn't want to pass it up.

'Haps that bastard MacBain had not bedded her very many times within those three months. Sometimes many months or a year passed before a woman was with child. Dirk and his wife, Isobel, had been married seven months and she didn't appear to be with child when they'd stopped by Munrick a few weeks ago.

Although he wanted children, Torrin would still marry Jessie even if she was barren. He wouldn't tell her that. Not now, anyway. She wouldn't accept his decision. She would think he was being impulsive or that mayhap he would change his mind later and send her away. But the truth was he was well and truly smitten with her.

And, nay, he would not change his mind later. He had never felt the way he did now about a woman. He had not lost interest in her during the seven months since he'd met her. In fact, his interest had only grown and deepened from instant physical attraction to something powerful he'd never experienced before.

He frowned down at the ground far below and the woman dashing away from the castle. Was that Jessie? Her head was covered, hiding her hair, and she faced away from him. But the woman was tall and slim, and she moved exactly like Jessie. She must have slipped past the guards and out the postern gate, and was now headed away from castle, in the opposite direction from the bay. Where was she going? She normally walked on the beach, but she was not headed that way now. Nor was she walking at a leisurely pace. Nay, she was practically running. When she glanced back over her shoulder once, a lock of her copper hair gleamed in the sunlight, and he got a glimpse of half her face. Aha, 'twas indeed Jessie. Why was she slipping away?

Trying to escape him? Or had something happened?

Torrin rushed down several sets of winding steps until he reached the bailey. Not having a key to the postern gate, he asked the guards to open the main portcullis for him. They also gave him his basket-hilt broadsword, for he might need it to protect Jessie.

Once outside the walls, Torrin ran toward the east. She had already disappeared from sight, difficult in this flat landscape near the shore, but gorse bushes grew here and there in small groves. Once he passed a group of them, he saw her plaid-covered head disappear behind another cluster of bushes. He was determined to catch up to her without her seeing him. She wasn't traveling toward the village, and he needed to find out what she was up to.

They must have walked for more than a mile when he lost sight of her. Muttering curses, he glanced this way and that, then ran forward. The rocky shore and a drop off lay ahead. Had she gone in that direction? Saints! Had she fallen off the cliff?

His heart rate soaring toward the sky, he quickened his pace.

Once at the edge, he saw it wasn't a cliff, but simply a steep bank of sand about thirty feet high. Beyond it was a small golden sand beach with black boulders protruding here and there from the sand. He lay down and belly-crawled to the edge so she wouldn't notice him. Aye, indeed, she was descending a rock and sand path along the edge of the bank. What in blazes was she doing here?

He scooted sideways and hid himself better behind a clump of thistles. He was wicked for spying on her, but he had to protect her. Not that he truly expected anyone to be all the way out here, a mile or more from the village and further than that from the castle.

She strolled along the wee beautiful beach, which was enclosed and cut off from other areas of the coast. Cliffs jutted out on each side, making it very secluded. He could understand why she loved this place. 'Twas one of the loveliest spots he had yet seen. To add to its appeal, a slight breeze blew in off the sea, but 'twas a warm summer day.

Jessie perched on one of the boulders and gazed out to sea. Was she daydreaming? He hoped she was thinking of him.

Moments later, she got to her feet and walked further along the shore, her gaze searching the tops of the cliffs and sand bank. He ducked. Had she seen him or sensed his presence? He kept his head down and hoped she didn't notice his plaid.

She hastened to the far end of the strip of sand, which was more concealed behind the large rocks. Though she disappeared from sight, he hesitated to crawl closer to the edge for fear she might spot him.

She appeared again, wearing only her white smock. Hiking it to her knees, she ran into the water.

"Saints," he hissed. She was going swimming? He chuckled, but forced himself to be quiet. Not that she could hear him over the waves crashing into the boulders below. What an adventurous spirit she had. It only made him fall harder for her.

How lovely she looked, her fiery red hair streaming down her back as she waded deeper into the water reflecting the blue sky. She disappeared behind a black boulder.

A swim would be perfect right now. While she was hidden from view, he took the opportunity to slip down the bank along the narrow trail she had used earlier. He hastily removed all his clothing and left it on the dry sand behind a rock, then crept between the boulders. The sun-warmed, wet sand felt good against his bare feet. Then the edges of the cold surf washed over his toes. He often took swims in Loch Assynt, so he was accustomed to cold water. It appeared Jessie was, too.

He waded into the water and peered around the last boulder. When her back was turned, he slid beneath the water and swam underneath a wave. When he emerged twenty feet out, she happened to be facing him. Her eyes wide, she screamed and swam toward the shore.

"Jessie! 'Tis only me," he called.

But she didn't listen; she kept moving quickly toward the beach. Once the water was shallow enough, she ran, probably difficult wearing that smock. She tugged its hampering weight from around her ankles and quickened her steps. He wished she would remove the blasted garment.

He followed her, splashing through the shallow surf.

"Let's go back in," he called over the roar of the waves.

She stopped and turned to face him, her wide-eyed gaze dropping to his groin. She sucked in a sharp breath and covered her eyes. "Put on some clothes, MacLeod!"

Halting ten feet away, he grinned and crossed his arms over his chest. "'Twould be much better if you'd simply remove yours." Although he did appreciate this view. Her wet smock had become more transparent, and her hard, rose-colored nipples showed through the material. But he wasn't going to tell her that. Sexual heat rushed over him despite the cool breeze blowing over his bare, wet skin.

"Are you mad?" She faced the other direction, grabbed her arisaid from the stone and attempted to belt the plaid about her waist.

"I think you are the one who is mad, wearing a drenched smock beneath your other dry clothing. Makes no sense. You should remove it all and lay it on the rocks to dry."