"Aye." Since her handfasting with him had gone sour three years past.
"I don't think Torrin MacLeod wants to wage war with you, sister." Aiden smirked, his boyish face taking on a pixie charm.
She rolled her eyes. She could guess why Torrin was here, but MacBain? The man whose castle she'd spent a year and a day at. She'd hoped to never see him again. Of a certainty, at the time, she'd fallen for him, but since being away from him, she'd come to realize what kind of knave he truly was. He cared for no one but himself. Gregor MacBain was incredibly selfish and changed his mind as often as the changing weather in the Highlands. He'd entered into a legal marriage with another woman. Jessie had naught to say to him.
After pushing herself up from the table, she crossed the great hall on shaky legs. But never could she let either of the men outside see a smidgen of weakness from her. They would circle and close in like hungry buzzards.
Stepping into the courtyard, she saw that gloaming had settled over the land with a purple light just after sunset, and a brisk breeze blew in off the North Sea. She, Aiden, and the guard moved toward the iron portcullis.
Erskine joined them, his short brown hair ruffled by the wind. He wore leather armor and carried a sword at his hip. But he did not appear overly concerned. "M'lady." He gave an abbreviated bow. "Both MacLeod and MacBain appear to have come in peace. They wish to speak to you."
Jessie's stomach knotted worse than the ropes used on the galleys. Saints! She gave a brief nod, though she did not want to face either man, but for different reasons. She took a deep breath and placed a hand upon the hilt of the foot-long dirk in the scabbard on her belt. She was never without it. Not that she expected to have to use it on either man. But it gave her more confidence.
As they approached the gate, her breathing grew shallower and her sweaty hands more fidgety. She clasped them before her.
Remain calm.
Her gaze landed on Torrin MacLeod first. A wave of panic and something far more disturbing washed over her. The man was just as striking and attractive as the last time she'd seen him, mayhap more so, with his compelling green eyes, long chestnut hair and tall, lean frame. He was one of the few men who towered over her. But looking into his eyes filled her with a mixture of dread, fear, and something she didn't want to think about.
She quickly switched her gaze to Gregor MacBain. His black hair was much longer than it had been the last time she'd seen him and a scruffy short beard covered the lower half of his face. His dark-brown eyes had once completely bewitched her, but now she could hardly tolerate the sight of him. She had been so young and naïve when she'd first met him.
"Lady Jessie," Gregor said in a cheerful tone, then bowed deeply. His conciliatory smile annoyed her greatly. "I'm so glad to see you, lass."
"What do you want, Gregor?" she demanded.
Torrin snorted, one side of his lips kicking up in a half smile as he watched her with pronounced interest.
Heat rushed over her and she immediately felt even more edgy than before. No matter how disconcerting she found him, she simply needed to ignore Torrin, but remain ever vigilant around him for he was a dangerous man. She had seen firsthand what kind of lethal warrior he was.
"Is that any way to greet your husband?" Gregor cajoled.
"You are not my husband," she stated firmly, sending him what she hoped was a cutting glare. "You married another woman."
"Aye, but she passed giving birth to my son. I made a mistake. I never should've left you for her. I ken you must have missed me."
"You're wrong. I hardly remember much about you. And our marriage was not a legal one, so you were never my husband, in truth. 'Twas only a handfasting." She detested the Highland practice of trial marriage for a year and a day, to see if the woman would conceive a bairn, before the legal marriage took place. This, of course, benefited the man, usually a chief who needed an heir. She would never willingly enter into one of these arrangements again. She'd much prefer to remain unmarried and be of service to her family and clan.
Gregor sighed. "A storm is blowing in off the sea. Will you not let us in and feed us supper? What of Highland hospitality?"
"I have no hospitality or sympathy for you," she said, only now noticing the strong wind whipping her hair and cooling her overheated face.
"Allow me to talk to the lady alone." Torrin's tone was low and deep, but most disturbing of all, he never took his eyes off her.
Chapter Two
"The lady has no interest in talking to you alone," Jessie told Torrin through the gates. Besides, she wished to go back inside before the storm hit.
Torrin merely gave her that enigmatic hint of a smile again. He then switched his attention to MacBain and gave him a warning look. "Give us some privacy."
MacBain narrowed his eyes. "I think not, MacLeod."
"Would you like shelter during the coming storm? Or do you prefer staying out here?"
MacBain surveyed the turbulent sky. "Very well, then. Let us see if you can sweet talk her into allowing us entrance. But I doubt it." MacBain and his men moved twenty feet away.
"Could I have a moment to talk to her, Aiden?" Torrin asked her brother, his tone respectful.
"Are you in agreement with this, sister?"
"Aye. I'll be fine." She didn't want Torrin to know she feared him.
Aiden stepped back a good distance, but continued to watch them. Not that he could beat Torrin off her if he decided to reach through the iron bars and grab her. 'Twas likely that Aiden, with his slight frame, weighed only half as much as Torrin did with his warrior strength.
"How long have you been friends with MacBain?" Jessie asked, making sure she stayed more than an arm's length away from the gate. But he had long arms that were thick with muscle.
Torrin frowned, looking more ominous than the dark, cloudy sky above. "I'm not friends with the daft man. They came upon us while we were traveling. Once I heard where he was headed and why, I suggested we ride together. I came to protect you."
Jessie forced an ironic smile. "I have no need for your protection." Besides, that would be like a wolf protecting a herd of sheep. After all was said and done, he'd feast on a few of them.
"Nevertheless… I consider Dirk a friend. He is not here to protect you from this knave, so I felt it my responsibility."
"How could it possibly be your responsibility? We've barely spoken."
He allowed an amused look combined with a look of determination. "I intend to speak to you far more, m'lady," he said in a lowered voice.
The feverish chills covering her, head to toe, had little to do with the whipping wind and far more to do with his intimate tone. "Why?"
He raised a brow. "I think we both ken the answer to that."
Aye, she knew he'd asked Dirk for her hand in marriage last winter. "I'm not marrying anyone. Not MacBain, and certainly not you."
His smirking, confident smile made her grind her teeth. Could naught dissuade him from his ridiculous objective?
"Are you thinking I would marry a man with a paramour and children in the village?"
Torrin frowned, his amusement vanishing. "Who are you speaking of? MacBain?"
"Nay. You."
"I don't ken who has been spreading rumors, but I have no paramour in the village and certainly no children that I'm aware of."
Ha. Of course he would deny it. But her sister-in-law, Isobel, had told her this and the information had come from Torrin's own brother. He'd said Torrin was in love with the village lass.
"Who told you this?" he demanded.
"It matters not." She didn't want to get Isobel into trouble. It wasn't her fault if his outlaw brother had lied. "What is he planning?" She nodded toward MacBain.
Torrin eyed her a moment longer, making it obvious he didn't want to drop the subject of the rumors. "MacBain thinks he can convince you to marry him, a legal and binding marriage this time." Torrin shrugged. "But he has far more interest in your dowry. He is the least trustworthy man I've ever m
et."
Hmph. He was one to talk. "I would imagine you also have a great interest in my dowry." Torrin had to know that Dirk had added the hundred-and-fifty acres that Chief MacKenzie had given him, which joined his own. Everyone knew he was keen on acquiring that land for crops.
Torrin's dark green eyes were troubled. "'Tis not my main interest."
"Of course not," she said doubtfully.
"I would like for us to get to know each other better, Lady Jessie." His voice was sober and his eyes hopeful.
'Twas true she was not well acquainted with him, but the most significant thing she knew about him was that he'd killed her foster brother, Lyall Keith, eight years past. She'd watched the whole horrific incident take place from her hidden vantage point in the old oak. She'd been sixteen summers at the time and had nightmares for months afterward—nightmares that featured Torrin, hunting her down and killing her, the only witness to his crime. She hadn't known who he was and, without a clue to his name or clan, the Keiths could not seek retribution. What would Torrin do if he knew she'd witnessed his dark deed? She would put him and his clan in danger. He might then be more interested in killing her than marrying her.
Lightning flashed behind her, over the sea, and thunder rumbled.
"A storm is approaching," Torrin said.
"I can see that, but why would I want to allow you and MacBain within these gates?"
"MacBain isn't trustworthy, but I don't believe he means you or your clan harm. My men and I certainly mean you no harm." Torrin lowered his voice. "In fact, we'll act as guards. I've secretly assigned one of my men to each of his to keep a very close eye on them."
"What makes you think I trust you and your men any more than I trust the MacBains?"
He shrugged. "I ken trust has to be earned. And that's what I'm here to do—earn your trust." His expression was so sincere, she found herself wanting to believe him, but she knew too much about him.
"You have an uphill battle ahead of you."
"'Twill not be the first time." The determination in his eyes made her stomach ache and her pulse rate increase.
She switched her gaze to MacBain. Even though he was annoying, he didn't knock her out of kilter half as much as Torrin. "I don't want that bastard anywhere near me."
"He thinks you still carry a torch for him." Torrin sounded amused.
"Ha."
"Do you?"
Against her will, her gaze was pulled back to Torrin and his expression of dark humor. Why did he find her so entertaining? "Of course not. He's a scoundrel who has no inkling how to be faithful to one woman."
"Prove it to him, then, and mayhap he will leave you alone."
"What do you mean?" The fearsome wind off the sea blew her hair into her face and she pushed it behind her ear.
"Prove you think he is lower than a worm, that you despise him, and he will no doubt leave in a hurry." Torrin glanced up at the sky. "But to deny him Highland hospitality, especially during a storm, would bring you down to his level. You don't want to sully the MacKay name by being unfriendly to an ally, do you?"
She rolled her eyes. "How can the most notorious Highlander in these parts ask me that?"
"Notorious?" Torrin's eyes widened. "Me?"
"Aye. Who else would I be talking about?"
"Very well. I ken I have a reputation because of the battles I've fought, but that has naught to do with hospitality."
As far as she was concerned, his reputation had everything to do with the heinous deed he'd performed with cold calculation. Aye, she was certain it had been him, though they'd both been much younger.
"If you appear angry with him, he'll get the impression that you are still smitten with him. But if you seem bored with him, 'twill be clear you've forgotten him. 'Haps he will leave tomorrow. Who knows?"
She could only hope. "Will you convince him to leave tomorrow?"
"I'll do my best."
She prayed Torrin would leave at the same time. Aye, he was too disconcerting by far.
"Very well, but everyone must leave their weapons in the guard house," she said.
Torrin nodded. "Wise move." He winked.
Heat flashed over her like the approaching lightning… along with annoyance at herself that she would feel any sort of attraction to him. The longer she glared at him, the more pronounced his grin. He then turned to MacBain. "The lady has agreed we might enter, but we must disarm ourselves."
MacBain strode forward, his glare switching from Torrin to her, but he didn't immediately remove his weapons. His men scowled and muttered amongst themselves.
Loud thunder boomed out over the sea.
"Search them and make certain they are not armed, save for the knives they need to eat with," she instructed the nearby MacKay guards. "Your men may stay in the barracks this night," she told MacBain. "I'm certain you'll want to be on your way in the morn."
Gregor said naught, but his smug grin told her what he was thinking. He was going to try to win back her hand. 'Twould never happen.
The MacKay guards disarmed the men of both clans outside the gates, then allowed them entrance.
Her gaze darted to Torrin as he handed over his dirk and sword in the leather baldric. She hadn't remembered how tall he was, several inches taller than Gregor, who was about an inch shorter than Jessie. She'd always thought that was one reason he'd not been happy with her. He had to look up at her and likely felt like less of a man. She almost smiled.
She headed back toward the castle's entrance just as the first cold drops of rain spattered her hair and clothing.
Torrin fell into step beside her. "You look very pleased with yourself, m'lady."
"Nay. Why should I be, when two men I didn't want to see have shown up at the gates?"
With a hint of a smile, he sent her an amused glance beneath his dark lashes. If not for his past and what she knew about him, she could see herself being incredibly drawn to him. But obviously he was not who he appeared to be. 'Haps he had a benevolent side and a monstrous side. Or maybe all the benevolence was an act.
When they entered the great hall, Jessie motioned Torrin and Gregor to the high table. "Please make yourselves comfortable and your supper will be served."
She had been almost finished with her meal earlier, when she'd been interrupted. But even if she hadn't been, she had no appetite now. She directed the servants to bring their visitors food and drink. Most of the men, aside from Torrin and Gregor, would sleep in the barracks on the opposite side of the bailey. She headed up the stairs in search of the chambermaids. She would have them prepare two bedchambers for the chiefs in a separate wing from where her own chamber was located. She could only hope they would behave themselves and remain in their rooms the whole of the night.
Gregor MacBain was like a thorn in her arse. She wished she'd never met the man at the Keith's residence. He'd seemed interested in her from that first meeting when she was nineteen summers, and she'd thought him a handsome man. Later, after she returned home to Dunnakeil, he'd sought her out and talked to her father about arranging a trial marriage. Her father preferred they have a legal and binding marriage, but MacBain wouldn't hear of it. He much preferred a trial marriage because he needed an heir first and foremost. For that reason, he needed to know if she could conceive before the legal marriage took place.
Her father had gone along with it because MacBain was a chief and baron with impressive holdings to the south. Jessie had not known MacBain, except for the amicable façade he put forth. Being of marriageable age, she knew she would have to marry someone. She wanted a family, after all. MacBain had been her best prospect at the time, and she'd hoped they could grow to love one another.
In the end, she hadn't conceived, or maybe he simply hadn't tried hard enough. They'd shared a bed for three months during their time together, but she didn't know if that had been enough. Embarrassed that she hadn't conceived and feeling like a failure, she'd told people they'd only shared a bed three times.
MacBain had
seen and fallen in love with another woman. Or more likely, it was lust. She didn't think the man was capable of deep emotion. But she hadn't known about the other woman for months. MacBain had met with her secretly.
Unfortunately, by that time, Jessie had found herself smitten with MacBain, and his rejection and desertion hurt her deeply. Realizing how naïve she'd been to trust him, she couldn't wait to wash her hands of the fickle man and go home.
'Twas obvious he was back now only for her dowry. She would've known that even if Torrin hadn't told her. MacBain had his heir, but now he wanted funds and more land. He would have to acquire them elsewhere for she would never agree to marry him, and Dirk wouldn't force her to. Dirk was an understanding brother who took her wishes into consideration. After all, he hadn't ordered her to marry Torrin, thank the saints. As far as she knew, Dirk already had an alliance with Torrin, and there was no need to arrange a marriage to solidify it.
Now, she saw that Torrin was just as persistent as MacBain, but she knew him to be twice as dangerous.
***
Sitting at the high table, Torrin glanced around the great hall at his men and MacBain's, but he didn't see Jessie. Where had she gone? He'd hoped she would eat supper with them, but mayhap she'd already eaten. It appeared most of the MacKay clan was finished as well, while they drank ale and talked to the newcomers.
Since Torrin had spoken to Lady Jessie at the gates—the most he'd ever talked to her—he was even more eager to spend time with her. He had not imagined the keen attraction between them. 'Twas real, and he didn't think it was one-sided either. Given her adorable blushes, darkened eyes, and fidgeting hands, he suspected he made her uneasy. He'd wanted to take her hands in his, kiss her knuckles and soothe her.
Thank the saints he'd convinced her to allow them entrance to Dunnakeil. Thunder exploded overhead and lightning flashed outside the arrow slit windows.
Aiden and other musicians played music to entertain them while they ate. At the moment, he was playing a lamenting bagpipe ballad about lost love. It reminded Torrin of when he'd been a lad, eating supper in the great hall of Munrick; their piper had often played the same tune. 'Twas a bittersweet memory, for Torrin had loved spending time with his brother and cousins, but he'd always been on edge, expecting his father to strike him down at any moment. The only time he'd escaped the frequent beatings was during the four years he'd fostered with the Stewarts. If not for that reprieve, he didn't know what he would've done. He might have turned out like his vindictive brother.
My Notorious Highlander (Highland Adventure 5) Page 2
