Damnation, naught had ever felt so good. Not just physically. But for the first time in what seemed like years, he felt true happiness and found himself smiling like a fool. "I've dreamed of this since I first saw you over six months ago," he said, lying beside her.

"Hmm," she said.

"I knew we'd be perfect together."

"I did not know such… intense pleasure was possible," she said in a shy tone, refusing to meet his gaze.

"In truth?"

She shook her head.

"You mean the climax?"

Lifting her gaze, she searched his eyes, then nodded.

He smiled, then compressed his mouth into a line, trying to hide how pleased he was. "Am I to assume MacBain didn't ken how to bring you to climax?"

She shrugged a slim shoulder. "He didn't. At the time, I didn't ken anything about it. I thought that was all there was to it."

Torrin snorted. "I knew he was a daft bastard."

"Indeed. I don't want to think of him anymore."

"Nor do I, for a certainty."

When she stroked her fingers down his chest and abdomen, exploring him, his heart warmed. He wanted to kiss her head to toe. It wasn't simple lust he was feeling now but something much deeper. 'Twas the reason he couldn't get her out of his mind. He had to convince her to marry him; he needed her for a lifetime. She meant more to him than the chiefdom of Clan MacLeod or an heir. Alarm blasted through him. Was he mad? He didn't know. He didn't understand himself. All he knew for certain was he didn't want to live his life without her. He'd never imagined feeling this way. He'd heard of men tossing all aside for a woman, but could never comprehend it. Now he did. Some obsession had overtaken him body, mind and soul.

He wanted to ask her to marry him now, wanted her promise that she would, but fear gnawed at his gut. She might say nay again. He didn't want to ruin this perfect moment. What could he say to convince her?

His one hope was that if he could get her with child, she would agree to marry him. But he didn't care. He'd marry her either way, whether she was barren or could have ten children. And he knew the reason—because he was in love with her. Saints! He'd always thought such emotions daft. He was a chief and a warrior; he was supposed to be too hard to feel such things. But it seemed he had a heart after all. His father hadn't beaten it out of him. All of the battles he'd fought… none of it mattered. A lady had brought him to his knees. A lady he'd give anything and everything to if she would let him.

"Jessie?"

Her fingers stroked leisurely over him. "Aye."

His heart pounding, he kissed her forehead. "I want…" 'Slud, he couldn't think of the right words.

"What?" She stroked her hand over his bare hip.

A potent combination of lust and emotion struck him. He took her hand and laced his fingers through hers. "What do you want… in life? What do you wish for most?"

She tried to pull her hand from his, but he tightened his fingers.

"It matters not," she whispered.

"Aye, it matters. 'Tis the most important thing."

"Peace."

"Indeed, peace is a good thing, but you must want more."

"I don't wish to speak of this, MacLeod. If our tryst is over, mayhap you should go back to your own chamber." Pulling her hand from his, she turned onto her side, away from him.

Hell. He'd known this would happen. Why was she so damned stubborn?

He snuggled up tight against her back, his growing erection against her arse. "Our tryst isn't over," he whispered in her ear. "'Twill never be over." He stroked his hand up over her hip, her waist and cradled her breast in his hand. He teased her nipple and sucked her earlobe into his mouth. "I'm hungry for you, and I'll never get enough."

She arched against him, sliding her hand back into his hair and around his neck. He loved the moments when she let go and fully accepted him, even if it was only physical lust. He would get to her heart one way or another.

Rolling her onto her stomach, he pinned her beneath him.

"What are you doing, MacLeod?"

"I'll show you." He spread her legs and stroked his fingers between, finding her wet.

She gasped and arched up in a most inviting way. Lust surged through him, making him want to rut like a wild stag. But he didn't; he teased that sweet feminine spot.

"So wet," he whispered in her ear.

Moaning, she pushed her derriere against him. He wanted to give her exactly what she was craving, but making her wait appealed more. It wasn't that he wanted to make her beg for it; 'twas only that he wished she wanted everything he did. And mayhap she did, but for some reason, she wouldn't let go and admit it.

"Torrin." Her demanding feminine growl intensified his arousal even more.

"Aye. What is it you want?"

"Take me."

"Mmm." He loved the sound of that but not enough to give in yet. He lightly bit her shoulder, his fingers caressing her. She grew wetter and more swollen by the second. Nor did he want her to experience a climax yet. He wanted her suspended in intense arousal a bit longer. Could he make her addicted to him? Could he make her feel as he did, as if he could never get enough of her? Could he make her lie awake at night, burning… craving as he did?

"I want you now," she gasped, her voice breathy. "Please, Torrin."

Damn, he could no longer resist. He positioned himself and slipped into her, the wet heat taking his sanity. He muttered a curse, held her hips between his palms and gave into the pounding need. Never in his life had lust seared him so profoundly. Her moans and whimpers near drove him mad. He but wanted to please her, fulfill her every desire.

He slid his hand over her mound and stroked that wee bud of pleasure. She cried out, then pressed her face against the pillow, trying to muffle the sound. He grinned, wanting to laugh but at the same time, his release threatened. He ground his teeth, forcing himself to wait. Her body clenched onto him, so tight he thought he might die on the spot. She screamed into the pillow but he didn't let up. Nay, he made himself wait. Wait, wait… until no more rational thoughts remained in his head. And then an explosion of fire and pleasure consumed him. No thoughts, just ecstasy and heaven… yet hot as hell.

Moments later, Jessie was asleep, but Torrin was too wound up, going over and over all the possibilities in his mind. If he got her with child, she would marry him. 'Twas likely the only way she'd agree to it.

He slept fitfully for a few minutes at a time. At the first light of dawn, a knock sounded at the door. He leapt up but Jessie didn't even stir. He slipped his long shirt over his head, grabbed his plaid, and unbarred the door. Cautiously, he opened it a crack and squinted into the corridor.

The older man outside the door frowned and lifted his lantern, his red and silver hair glinting in the light of the flame. Hell, 'twas Jessie's uncle, Conall. He and his large family had been moved into the castle last night for safety, so Haldane wouldn't take any of them hostage.

"Good morn," Torrin said.

"I thought this was Jessie's chamber," Conall said in a gruff voice, clearly displeased.

"Aye, 'tis." Torrin's face heated, though he had no idea why. Surely, Conall knew that Torrin wished to marry Jessie. "Has something happened?"

"Aye. Aiden's gone."

"Saints," Torrin hissed. "Did he run away?" Or did someone kidnap him. Haldane?