Page 11 of My Notorious Highlander

Once Lyall stopped and faced his pursuers, Torrin and one other man had been the only two to approach Lyall and his friend. They were even in number and about the same age, early twenties, but 'twas obvious at first glance the MacLeods were larger and more skilled. Torrin was angry, growling low words that Jessie couldn't understand from thirty or forty feet away. Lyall had denied whatever it was Torrin accused him of. Obviously terrified of the taller man, Lyall had tried to run but Torrin hadn't let him. Don't force me to stab you in the back, Torrin had yelled. Pick up your sword, face me and fight like a man!

Fumbling, Lyall picked up the weapon while Torrin waited. Without warning, he charged Torrin, the sword aimed at his stomach and Jessie thought he actually might best him. But at the last second, Torrin used his own weapon to knock away the tip of Lyall's blade.

Lyall leapt back. Their blades clashed twice more, then, in two quick motions, Torrin knocked the sword from Lyall's hand and slit his throat. Moments later, his friend suffered the same fate at the hand of Torrin's second.

Holding her breath, Jessie had clamped a hand over her mouth and remained frozen in place. Not only was she terrified of being discovered, hiding in that tree, but also seeing her foster brother slain… she had never seen anything so gruesome. She could do naught to help him. She only had a small sgian dubh with her, and if she'd charged onto the field, she would've been butchered in a trice beside her foster brother. Those men wouldn't have left a live witness.

The strangers had quickly disappeared, leaving their victims' dead bodies lying where they'd fallen on the blood-soaked ground. Once Jessie, frozen in fear, could move again, she'd run back to the castle and told her foster father what had happened. She hadn't known at the time that the MacLeods were the culprits, because they'd worn no identifying clothing or plant badges. The Keiths could not exact the revenge they craved. And no one knew the motive for the strangers attacking. Would Torrin tell her if she asked? Or would her life be in danger if he knew what she'd witnessed?

Chapter Three

As they broke their fast, MacBain glared at Torrin MacLeod, sitting farther along the high table in the great hall of Castle Dunnakeil. Although he didn't remember much from the night before, MacBain did remember the moment MacLeod had smashed his fist into his nose. Pain had slammed through his head and he'd ended up on the floor, half addled. His head still pained him this morn and his nose ached something fierce.

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.