Page 12 of My Notorious Highlander

"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 farther 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.

"Aye, indeed." Her attention was focused on pushing the trunk against the wall.

"Have you lived here at Dunnakeil your whole life?" Until last winter, he'd never visited Durness. Although he'd met Dirk and his father when they'd traveled south many years ago.

"Nay, I fostered with… another clan from the time I was seven summers until I was sixteen."

Jessie's stomach knotted for she'd almost forgotten who she was talking to. She'd come close to blurting out that she'd fostered with the Keiths. She could never let down her guard with Torrin, even though he was easy to talk to. While he seemed an honorable gentleman on the surface, she knew that deep down he was deadly.

"I fostered as well, but only for four years."

Fostering was a common practice among Highlanders. She knew the purpose was to form a network of clan alliances. Strange that their paths had only crossed one time prior to last winter.

She eyed Torrin and the thick chestnut hair lying on his broad shoulders. The way he steadily watched her with those perceptive evergreen eyes made her heart thump hard and her insides flutter. Was it fear or something else? A mixture of several conflicting emotions?