My Notorious Highlander (Highland Adventure 5) (7 page)

"What the hell are you doing?" a deep and forceful male voice demanded.

Who was that? From her position on the ground, Jessie turned her head and looked up at Torrin, standing among the grasses, sword drawn, Iain Stewart beside him.

Two of the MacBain men drew swords. Considering how well-armed they were, all of them had clearly obtained their swords as they'd exited the portcullis at Dunnakeil.

"You stay out of this, MacLeod!" MacBain ordered.

"Nay," he said with deadly calm. "Release her or suffer the consequences."

MacBain laughed. "You only brought Stewart with you. You're outnumbered."

"I knew you were a whoreson the moment I saw you," Iain said.

Two of
MacBain's
men launched into action, engaging Torrin and Iain in swordplay.

When both of
MacBain's
men fell, her captors fled.

"Where the devil are you going?" MacBain yelled.

"I'll get them!" Iain chased after the two cowards.

With her hands and feet tied, Jessie could do naught but roll upon the ground like a worm.

Torrin charged MacBain and their swords clanged, sparks popping in the gloaming. MacBain yelped, but she couldn't see if he'd been cut. Torrin was the aggressor, driving MacBain back, but he ran to her other side.

How she wished she could get her wrists untied, or the bindings cut.

Blades clanged multiple times. Someone cried out. A sword flew over her head, and she glanced back to see what had happened. MacBain fell to the sand and Torrin stood over him, the tip of the sword at his throat. A sudden fear seized her and she felt transported eight years into the past.
'Twas
like seeing
Torrin's
sword just before he'd slit the throat of her foster brother.

"Don't murder him!" Jessie yelled.

Torrin sent a quick, dark glance her way then focused on MacBain again. "Should I listen to the lady? Or rid the world of some vermin?"

MacBain held his hands over his head. "I'll go and… and leave Lady Jessie alone," he proclaimed in a desperate voice.

"In truth?" Torrin asked. "Or is this just another lie?"

"I speak the truth. If you let me live, you nor Lady Jessie will ever see me again."

"If we do see you again, I'll take that as leave to kill you. Get up. We're going back to the castle."

"What about my men?" He motioned to the two lying on the ground.

"You'll have to tell the rest of your cowardly men to come back and fetch them… if Iain let them live."

More of the
MacLeods
burst through the bushes and grasses, their breathing elevated. "Sorry we didn't arrive sooner, Chief."

"
'Tis
all under control," Torrin said. "Gordon and
Sim
, go find Iain and
MacBain's
two men. They went that way.
Luag
, see to those lying on the ground."

They did their chief's bidding. One of the MacBain men lying on the ground stirred and groaned.
Luag
announced that the other was dead.

"Struan, tie
MacBain's
hands behind his back and take him to the dungeon." Torrin motioned to
Gregor
, then cut the strips of cloth binding Jessie's wrists and ankles.

"I thank you," she said, sitting up. She was so grateful for his help, she wanted to embrace him, but she controlled the urge.

"Are you hurt?" He took her hands and drew her to her feet.

"Naught but a few bruises and scratches."

"Aye, you have a dark bruise. Did someone hit you?" He surprised her by touching her face.

She started to draw away, but the hot, tingly feel of his fingers sliding over her cheek halted her action. "
'Tis
naught." She feared if she told him MacBain had struck her, Torrin would kill the man before they reached the castle. "I'll survive."

When he lowered his hand, she was shocked at how much she missed the warmth of his touch.

Even in the dimness of gloaming, she found it difficult to meet his intense and intimate gaze. She so appreciated his help at this moment she couldn't express it or even comprehend it.

"I was on the ramparts when I heard you scream," he said. "I was praying it wasn't you, but I suspected MacBain was up to no good."

She nodded. "I was merely taking a walk on the beach when his men grabbed me."

"
'Tis
not safe for you to walk on the beach or anywhere alone now."

"Mo
chreach
,"
she muttered under her breath for she loved the outdoors and nature. Walking on the beach was one of the few pleasures left to her. And she refused to allow MacBain to take that away from her.

"My men will escort them off MacKay lands tomorrow, but who knows if he will return? I believe not a word he says."

"Nor do I." Her dirk came to mind and she glanced about, but then remembered she'd dropped it on the beach. Had one of the
MacBains
picked it up? Her
sgian
dubh
should be nearby. Since it was a dark metal, 'twas too dark to see it easily now.

"What is it?" Torrin asked.

"I lost my dirk and my
sgian
dubh
."

"I'll help you find them tomorrow."

The
MacLeods
disarmed the
MacBains
and bundled all the weapons in a large piece of canvas. 'Haps her knives were among them. If not, she'd have to search the dunes and the beach in the morn, with
Torrin's
help.

He offered his arm.

"I'll manage on my own," she said, dismissing his offer of help through the dunes, grasses and bushes. It wasn't that she didn't want to touch him—she certainly did. But she was already anxious and on-edge, and he would only make her more so. She was too aware of him and his lean, iron-hard strength. Every time she was near him, her heart pounded harder and her hands grew jittery. What was wrong with her?

They made their way back to the castle, Jessie trying not to touch Torrin or bump into him. But she felt his attention on her. As they walked single file through the bushes, he glanced back at her several times. Making sure she was safe? His attentive protectiveness confused and perplexed her. Was he truly such a good man? Or was he pretending so she'd let down her guard? She didn't see how he could be a good man after the ruthless way he'd killed
Lyall
Keith. Though he had let
Gregor
MacBain live when she'd asked it of him.

As they entered the bailey, she saw by the light of the torches that her clothing was ripped from the thorns and her skirts and sleeves filthy with sand. Her face was also likely dirty. Placing her hand against it, she felt the grit of sand and tried to brush it away.

Concerned clansmen and women inquired whether she was injured, as did Iain, Aiden, Uncle Conall, and several others.

"Nay. I thank you but I am well," she assured them.

Once in the great hall, Torrin asked her, "Could I speak to you in private?"

Och
, nay. What now?
She did not wish to spend any more time alone with him. Already her nerves were frayed, and it had less to do with the kidnapping attempt than with her rescuer. "Might I change clothes first? I'm filthy."

"Aye, of course." He didn't appear any worse for wear and certainly not as if he'd been in a skirmish. He bowed, then she hastened toward the stairs.

Once Jessie had given herself a sponge bath and her maid,
Dolina
, had helped her dress in clean clothing and straightened her hair, she descended the steps again.

What on earth could Torrin wish to speak to her about in private? They had been alone, for the most part, on their way back to the castle. Why hadn't he talked to her then? This must be something more important.

When she entered the great hall, he rose from the bench where he'd been sitting, talking to his friend, and approached her. His penetrating gaze swept over her quickly, then came to rest on her eyes. "You look lovely, and except for that bruise, not like you were attacked less than an hour ago."

Her face and chest heated. "I thank you."

"Is there a private place we might talk?"

"Aye, the library," she said, taking a lit candle from a nearby table and leading the way into her brother's official meeting room, off to the side of the great hall. She lit the candelabra on the table while he closed the door.

She faced him, realizing she should offer him a seat, but she didn't feel like sitting herself. And if he was going to talk about marriage again, she wanted to be able to make a quick escape.

"I want to thank you again for rescuing me," she said. "I don't know what I would've done if you hadn't come along."

He gave a brief bow. "There's no need to thank me. I only wish I could've reached you sooner."

"You arrived just in time.
'Tis
all that matters."

"I'm glad you weren't hurt too badly. But I must ask… why you said what you did when I bested MacBain?" His expression shifted to that dangerous one she'd witnessed on a few occasions, though never directed at her.

"What do you mean?" She searched his face, trying to figure out what he was talking about and why he was almost angry about it.

"
Don't murder him.
That's what you said when I was holding the blade to
MacBain's
throat."

"Oh." Jessie drew in a deep breath, her stomach twisting and tying in knots as she tried to compose a reasonable excuse in her head. "I… I simply didn't want any more death. MacBain is a chief and if you were to kill him, there would be consequences. The MacBain clan would no doubt attack the
MacKays
in revenge."

Torrin crossed his arms over his broad chest, eying her with needle-sharp interest. "Why did you use the word
murder
instead of
kill
?"

Jessie watched Torrin cautiously, scarcely able to breathe, her heart thundering in her ears. Why had she let him stand between herself and the library door?
Mo
chreach
.
She glanced down, remembering she had not yet retrieved her dirk, and she only had two blades on her person at the moment. One was strapped high on her thigh, and a smaller one was sewn into the hem of her
arisaid
. She could not get to either of them easily.

But deep down she believed Torrin wouldn't hurt her, no matter what she might say. He'd rescued her from MacBain, after all. Could she tell him she knew he'd killed her foster brother all those years ago? Could she ask him why? Or would it be a grand mistake? Taking a deep breath, she forced herself to be courageous.

"Because… I know. I saw what you did," she said, watching
Torrin's
face closely.

He frowned. "What are you talking about?"

"Eight years ago in
Caithness
. On Keith lands."

Torrin's
eyes narrowed upon her, giving her that lethal look. "What did you see?"

She swallowed hard and forced herself not to retreat a few steps like she wanted. He must not know how much she feared him. "I saw you murder
Lyall
Keith."

Torrin shook his head, his eyes reflecting sadness instead of anger or guilt. "I didn't
murder
him," he said in a calm tone. "He'd raped and murdered my sister.
'Twas
justice."

Disbelief struck Jessie, knocking her back a step. "What?
Lyall
did that?"

"Aye. Besides, he had a sword.
'Twas
a fair fight."

His unruffled composure confused her, turned everything she knew on its head. Was he telling the truth?

"Did you know him well, then?" Torrin asked.

"He was my foster brother. I fostered with the
Keiths
for several years. And afterward, I went back to visit often."

"Saints," Torrin hissed. "All I know about him is he was a rapist and a murderer, and my sister wasn't the only one to suffer at his hand."

How could this be possible? She had always thought
Lyall
kind and trustworthy. "Maybe there was a mistake. How do you ken 'twas him?"

"
'Twas
no mistake. My sister lived for two days after the bastard raped and beat her. Allina had several injuries and lost a great deal of blood." Pain glinted in
Torrin's
eyes. "She told us who did it. We'd both met
Lyall
Keith a week or so before. You see, I'd taken her to stay with our aunt near
Lairg
. Keith was staying there, too, along with several others. Allina had a mare she was mad about, and she'd gone out to the stables one evening to give her an apple. That's when the Keith bastard and his friend captured her." Anger glinting in his eyes, Torrin shook his head. "When I went back to bring her home, they said she'd disappeared and had been gone all night and half the day. I took a search party out looking for her. We found her knocked out and almost dead in the nearby wood. She was covered in blood and bruises. She was so pale," Torrin said in a near whisper and closed his eyes briefly, no doubt seeing her and reliving the horror of the moment.

Held within the grips of shock and
Torrin's
palpable emotions, Jessie held her breath.

"We took her back to my aunt's home where she awakened for a short time and told us who'd done this to her," he continued. "We also found a button from the bastard's doublet there in the wood with her, carved with the Keith crest. How I wish I'd come a day earlier so I could've stopped them," Torrin growled through clenched teeth. "I would've torn them limb from limb."

When she imagined the pain and terror his sister must have endured, tears filled Jessie's eyes. And to see his raw pain clawed at her own emotions.

"I am sorry. I didn't know," she whispered.

"Nay. How could you?" he asked in a calmer tone. "I didn't want to kill him.
'Twas
what had to be done. The clan and my father expected it. Demanded it. As the future chief, I felt it was my responsibility. Sometimes the only law or justice in the Highlands is our own. If we'd taken it to the authorities, '
twould
have been a dead woman's word against the Keith chief's son. Who do you think they would've believed?"

Jessie nodded, knowing that without a living witness to the crime,
Lyall
would've likely gotten away with the murder. But clans didn't allow such injustice. They took the law and revenge into their own hands. An eye for an eye.

"As I'm sure you recall, we had a skirmish," Torrin said. "He had a weapon and 'twas a fair fight. I'm not to blame for him being a bad swordsman."

Jessie wiped at her eyes. "You're right." Still, she couldn't fathom
Lyall
doing something so brutal as raping and killing a young woman. Jessie hadn't known him at all.

"Where were you?" Torrin asked.

"In the oak tree. I was fond of climbing trees."

His expression lightened. "How old were you then?"

Her face heated. "Sixteen." Too old to be climbing trees, but she loved them so much she did it anyway.

He gave a curious frown. "You didn't report us?"

"I didn't know who you were. I told them what you looked like but I didn't know which clan you were from."

"Well, we were careful to hide our identities and our trail. Will you report us now?"

"Nay." She knew the answer without thinking about it. "If
Lyall
truly did what you said, then he got no worse than he deserved."

Torrin's
gaze lit on her again with penetrating realization. "That's why you've been terrified of me the entire time. You thought I murdered your innocent foster brother."

She nodded.

"What do you think now?" he asked.

"I'm not certain."

"Do you believe me?"

Jessie gazed deeply into his eyes as if looking into his soul, and Torrin loved the sensation of it. Her blue eyes were much softer now, and damned if he didn't want to grab her and kiss her. But he must not. He'd had no inkling that anyone, aside from his own clansmen, had been witness to what he felt was justice being served. Certainly, he couldn't have simply let his sister's murderer go unpunished and free to kill others. And it wasn't just the murder, but also the vicious rape and torturous beating he'd given her. No woman should ever be treated in such a way, certainly not his innocent young sister.

"How old was she?" Jessie asked.

"Allina was seventeen summers. Very beautiful. All the lads were smitten with her." His eyes burned and he shook his head. "She was incredibly kind, loving, and helpful to everyone. She didn't deserve such a horrid end. I'll never understand why." Even his abusive father would not lay a hand on her.

Jessie bit her lip. The tears glistening in her eyes struck him on a deep level. She was a compassionate person, and she understood how he felt. He'd never wanted to hold her as badly as he did right now. But he couldn't.
'Twas
too soon. She must trust him first.

"I cannot fathom Fate, or why God would allow such suffering and injustice," he said.

"None of us do," she whispered. "But I can understand why you did it. I know if someone were to murder Aiden or Dirk, I'd want to kill them, too. I'm not saying I would but…"

He nodded. Though he often saw her as a warrior princess, he now knew she was too compassionate to kill anyone, unless forced to, and he loved that about her. "For men, 'tis often different, especially for those of us who have been in battles," he said. "Usually 'tis a case of kill or be killed, you ken? Those are the choices."

"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.