He'd not yet decided what he would do to MacLeod, but he would exact his revenge. The bastard had a ruthless reputation far and wide. Last year, he'd subdued two other, smaller clans and forced their allegiance to him. Would he do the same thing to the MacKays next? If only he'd brought more men with him, they could easily defeat the MacLeods. He'd have to warn the MacKays that Torrin MacLeod was here to subdue them and take over their lands. Much easier to do while their chief was away.
One thing concerned him even more than MacLeod's reputation—the way he was watching Lady Jessie. Every time she walked through the great hall, MacLeod's gaze followed her with great interest, even lust. The bastard had pretended he barely knew who she was. But now 'twas obvious that MacLeod wanted her, too. He wasn't getting her! That was a certainty.
When MacLeod wasn't watching Jessie, he was eying MacBain in a highly suspicious manner. Aye, you'd best not turn your back on me, you roguish whoreson.
MacBain would simply have to stay until Dirk MacKay returned so they could work out a marriage contract. Even if it took weeks or months, he wouldn't mind. That would give Lady Jessie time to become smitten with him again. But with MacLeod in the way, that might be more difficult. He had to get rid of the lecher somehow.
***
"Have you seen Lady Jessie?" Torrin quietly asked one of the servants, then glanced back over the great hall. No one seemed to be paying him any mind. MacBain had gone outside moments ago.
"Last I saw her, she was headed up the stairwell, m'laird." The maid curtseyed.
"I thank you." Torrin climbed the stairs, wondering how Jessie had slipped past him. She had made herself scarce at breakfast and had not joined the others at high table, or any table. She must have grabbed a few bites in the kitchen.
MacBain's nose was crooked and red, and his eyes turning purplish-blue from the blow Torrin had gifted him with the night before. The other men had teased and ribbed MacBain because they knew Torrin had done the damage and why. Apparently, MacBain had told one of the men the night before and word had spread.
MacBain had done naught but glare while they broke their fast. Torrin had watched him closely, anticipating retaliation. Men had killed for far less.
Now, as Torrin walked down a narrow corridor and up another staircase, he wondered where Jessie was. If she was in her bedchamber, he wouldn't disturb her, but he did wish to speak to her. Clearly, she was avoiding him, though he was unsure why. He'd done naught to anger her. After last night, it should be clear that he wished to help her and protect her. How could she fault him for that?
After searching the deserted top floor, he headed back down the spiral stair, only to come face to face with Jessie. She let out a squeal and jumped backward, tossing the blankets she carried and flinging out her arms.
Torrin caught her just in time. His hands around her waist, he tugged her back before she could fall.
"'Tis only me, Lady Jessie," he said in a calming voice and drew her to the safety of the level floor and away from the stair.
She released hard breaths, her hand pressed to her chest. "You scared the life out of me. What are you doing sneaking about up here?"
"I wasn't sneaking about. I was looking for you."
"Why?" Pulling back, she eyed him suspiciously.
"You didn't join us at breakfast." That was one reason, anyway. But mainly, he simply wanted to see her and talk to her.
"I was too busy, looking after the kitchen servants and what-not. Was Aiden not a good host?"
"Aye, of course. But he's not as bonnie as you." Torrin smiled.
Jessie's face flamed redder than her hair, then she knelt and stacked the plaid blankets. He picked up the one beside him and handed it to her as they stood.
"I thank you," she said, eyeing him.
"Why do you fear me?" he asked in a low tone so as to not frighten her further.
"I don't," she said firmly, defiance in her blue gaze. "I don't fear any man. I have more than one blade on my person at all times."
His gaze dropped to the foot-long Highland dirk he'd already seen, sheathed and attached to her belt. 'Twas the same size as his own and he had no doubt she knew how to wield it. Where else did she have knives hidden on her delectable, lithe body? When he imagined searching them out, his own body heated. "I hope you won't use them on me."
She lifted a brow in warning. "That remains to be seen."
Fierce arousal curled through him, surprising him. Since when did a dangerous woman excite him? Truth was he'd never known a woman like her. Now, he feared he would have fantasies about her holding him at knife-point and having her way with him. He ground his teeth to keep from grinning at that image.
Coming back to his senses, he asked, "What have I done to you that is so terrible?"
She narrowed her eyes and studied him for a long moment. "Naught. I'm simply not interested in any sort of marriage arrangement. Isn't that why you're here? Seeking a wife?"
Disconcerting heat rushed over him, and he cleared his throat. "I admire you for getting right to the crux of the matter," he said dryly. No other woman would speak to him with such boldness, and 'haps that was one reason he was intensely drawn to her. She had more courage than a lot of men he knew. "And, aye, indeed I'd hoped to get to know you, and allow you to get to know me."
"There is no point." She stepped around him and strode down the corridor.
Her tall, slender body and strong but graceful stride gave him hot chills. And that hair… red waves and braids halfway down her back. He yearned to see that hair spread across his pillow. She would be his wife; he could easily visualize it. Had been visualizing it for seven months. But how to convince her?
Mayhap they had something in common. She'd said she carried blades. Had she been trained in the art of warfare?
She disappeared inside a chamber… and screamed.
Torrin bolted toward the chamber, then slid sideways as he tried to stop at the doorway. "What the devil?" He saw naught in evidence that would frighten her. "Why did you scream?"
"I didn't scream," she said in a defensive tone.
He frowned, wondering if she had a streak of madness.
"I merely… cried out very briefly."
Aha. She would not want to display any weakness or vulnerability around him. "Why?" he asked, forcing himself not to smile as he sauntered further into the room.
"A pigeon was in here. The glass in the window is broken and the shutter is open." She motioned toward it. "The bird startled me, then flew back out. That is all."
"I see."
She headed across the room. "You don't need to slay any dragons for me, Chief MacLeod."
He grinned. "Nor break any scoundrels' noses?"
"Nay. None of those either." She deposited the blankets in a chest on the floor in the corner.
He paced to the window and gazed out over Balnakeil Bay, the cool sea breeze whipping at his hair through the broken glass. The water reflected the blue sky. Cliffs jutted out on either side of the bay and a sandy beach lay below where gentle waves splashed and slid onto shore.
"The weather is much different than it was last winter when I was here." He turned to look at her. "The view from here is beautiful." Although the scenery of the bay was lovely, it couldn't compare to her.