Page 62 of My Notorious Highlander

"You're tougher than some men I know."

Her heart leapt at his high praise. "I thank you, but I had to be."

"Why?" With a small frown, he tilted his head.

"Life with my foster family was not easy."

"The Keiths?" he said in a bitter tone.

She nodded. "The daughter closest to my age was a real harpy. She was jealous of everything and everyone. My closest friends were the cook and one of the nursemaids. But I did love Lady Keith. She was warm, welcoming and motherly, very different from my own stepmother." 'Twas really the only mother she had known, other than her own nursemaid when she was a wee lass.

"I'm sorry you had a tough time of it," Torrin said. "Did anyone ever hit you or punish you?"

"Nay, thank goodness. My father visited a couple of times a year to check on me, and he would've been furious with them if they'd beaten me."

"I must have been more of a hellion than you were, then," he said.

"Why? Were you punished?"

"Aye, my father used a leather strap—or his fists—on me… and my younger brother."

It pained her to imagine an older, bigger man beating a young Torrin. She could never understand why some parents were abusive. If she had children, she would likely spoil them. "What did you do to deserve that?"

He shrugged. "I can't even remember. He simply enjoyed hurting people. Not just us but the servants, too. Sometimes he would say 'twas how he was going to make hardened warriors out of us."

She shook her head, his story and his sad expression breaking her heart. "'Tis terrible. What of your mother?"

"She died when I was ten summers," he said in a matter-of-fact tone that had to be concealing deep emotion.

"I'm sorry to hear of it." She knew the void and emptiness of not having a mother, but she had not known hers. To lose a mother at ten must have been the worst.

"I was away, fostering with the Stewarts at the time," he said. "I didn't even get to attend her funeral. Da sent a missive, and that was that. When I returned home a year later, Ma simply wasn't there anymore."

"'Tis tragic," Jessie whispered, tears welling in her eyes.

"'Twas long ago." Trying to shove the emotion aside, Torrin paced to the fireplace, knelt and stirred the coals with the iron poker, then added a brick of peat. 'Twas summer, but with gloaming, the room had grown chill. Thinking about his past always made him crave cozy warmth, for much of his childhood had been emotionally cold.

He didn't know why he'd opened up so much to Jessie. Mayhap because he felt so comfortable with her. He'd revealed more to her about his past than he had anyone in years. But he must forget his past misfortunes and concentrate on the future. His future with Jessie—if she would have him.

"I thank you for rescuing Aiden," she said behind him. "That means more to me than I can say."

Torrin stood and faced her. "You're welcome. He told us on the way back that Haldane had planned to use him to force us to open the gates."

"Of course. Haldane cares naught for him, or anyone, but himself."

Torrin nodded. "I believe Aiden sees the truth of it now."

"I'm sorry to ask, but would you be willing to stay until Erskine recovers or Dirk and Keegan return. I know naught about how to lead a clan, especially during conflict such as Haldane has stirred up. The guards may need your advice and guidance about how to handle it. Of course, there is Uncle Conall and the clan elders who will have their say in all matters, but they cannot lead the men into battle."

"Indeed. I'd planned to. And I thank you for trusting me enough to ask. You do trust me, aye?" He hoped she did after all that had happened.

The fire burned brighter, the flames reflecting in Jessie's eyes, revealing a pleasant expression. "I do now."

He placed a hand over his heart dramatically. "In that case, 'tis the best day of my life."

She smiled. And he thought she was blushing, though 'twas hard to tell in the firelight.

"In truth, your trust means the world to me." Drawing near, he kissed her forehead.