Just as she wished she could avoid him now, but she couldn't venture out into the storm. Refusing to show fear, she faced him. "Well, I'm sure you can understand why now, after what I witnessed."
"Aye. I can. But now that you ken the truth and have gotten to know me, 'haps you will reconsider."
Fear latched onto her. She stepped back and lowered her gaze. "You will have to be patient. I still don't know you very well." Since MacBain's rejection, she'd faced the fact and grown used to the idea that she would never marry. Given the things that had happened in her past—that first broken betrothal, then the horrid trial marriage—all thoughts of marriage were dark and unhappy. She loved her family and wanted to stay with them, especially since Dirk had returned and her despicable stepmother was gone. She had become best friends with Dirk's wife, Isobel. The past six months had been some of the happiest of her life.
"I've thought about you every day since we met last November," Torrin said, his deep voice barely audible over the rolling thunder.
She'd be lying if she told him she'd never thought of him. But every time she'd imagined his face, she'd experienced a surge of conflicting emotions. Of course, he was devastatingly attractive in a dark and dangerous sort of way, but she'd also thought him a cold-blooded killer. Though she now knew that wasn't true, she still felt uneasy around him. She didn't quite trust him. When enraged, would he switch suddenly and become that man who'd executed her foster brother?
"You're still frightened of me, aye?" he asked, giving her a speculative look.
"Nay." 'Twas a lie, but she didn't want to appear weak. That was something she'd learned with the Keiths. Never show your vulnerabilities. Besides, she wasn't as afraid of Torrin as she was a few days ago.
"I don't believe you," he murmured.
She forced a smile, a brave front. "As I told you before, I fear no man."
"Prove it." His tone was soft but challenging.
"What?"
"Prove you're not afraid of me." Though his eyes dared her, his lips quirked into a faint teasing grin.
"I'm here alone with you, with no one else to protect me should you fly into a murderous rage. What more proof do you need?"
He lifted a brow. "Kiss me."
His soft words stunned her speechless and she could do naught but gape at him. His gaze traveled to her lips, then lifted to delve into hers once again. He was serious… deadly serious.
"Are you mad?" she demanded, once she had the power of speech again. "Nay!" She turned and marched back to the exit door, praying the storm would end soon, not because she was repulsed by him, but because the thought of kissing him threw her mind and body into a tizzy. She did not like the sweltering, disturbed feelings he gave her. She was a strong, independent woman, and he wanted to take away her power and control. She knew he could do it easily. 'Twas one thing she'd become more and more aware of over the past couple of days.
"Coward," he murmured just behind her in a teasing tone.
Should she run out into the storm, or be brave and face him? "This is a church, in case you haven't noticed. 'Twould be sacrilege," she whispered.
"Are you thinking God cannot hear you if you whisper?" he asked.
"Nay, of course, 'tis only…" What? She didn't know, but she couldn't kiss Torrin in a church… or anywhere.
"Kissing is not a sin," he said in an intimate tone that made her crave exactly what they were discussing.
"Some would disagree with you for it incites…" She snapped her mouth shut.
"Incites what?"
She bit her lip refusing to utter the word lust to him. Saints! He did make her lustful. The last time she'd felt that way, with MacBain, it had resulted in naught but embarrassment and a shattered heart.
"I thought you a brave lady… but alas, 'tis not true."
"Don't tease me, MacLeod," she warned, sending him a glare that she hoped would make him back down.
"Why not? 'Tis fun." He smiled. Blast! He had a beautiful and compelling smile.
"For you, I'm certain," she muttered, annoyed with herself because of her response to him, and annoyed with him for prickling his way beneath her skin.
"I will make the kiss fun for you as well," he promised. "The added benefit is that I won't tease you anymore, once you've proven your bravery."
"You are naught but a manipulative rogue."
He grinned, a look of pure mirth, and she could not look away. "I'll not argue with that. Would you kiss a knave in the… nave?"
Before she could help herself, she snorted with laughter, for they were indeed standing in the nave of the church. Reverend MacMahon would castigate them severely if he were to hear their conversation.
Torrin glanced around behind himself, then whispered, "No one will see us."
"God will see us," she reminded him, hoping he would cease his pursuit.
"God sees us wherever we are, not just in churches."
She blew out an exasperated breath. "You are mad. Why on earth would I want to kiss you? You're but a thorn in my side."
"Well, there are many reasons. There is naught thorny about a kiss, except 'haps my beard stubble." He scrubbed a hand against his roughened cheek. "I did shave this morn, but alas it keeps growing," he muttered.
She bit back a smile and eyed his short stubble, wondering just how rough and scratchy it was. Her lips and the skin of her face tingled with anticipation of feeling his manly texture. But, nay, she couldn't.
"A kiss would tell you whether you should like me or not," he said, his eyes darkening in a seductive manner.
"How so?" she asked, trying to maintain some semblance of decency in a church. "'Twill not be a judge of your character."
"Nay, but it will tell you whether we suit. If you like the kiss, you might like to get to know me better." His confident look told her he was certain she would like any kiss he gave.
"And if I don't like it, will you leave me alone and cease your pursuit?"
For a moment, he appeared crestfallen and solemn. "Aye. If you insist. But you cannot lie. I'll know it if you do."
Her stomach knotted, for she feared she'd just agreed to kiss Torrin. "I don't lie. I never lie."
He smirked. "Let's see if you do." Taking her hands, he stepped closer. She backed against the door, her pulse pounding against her throat.
If only she could open the door and escape before he reached her, but 'twas impossible. Besides, she wasn't certain she wanted to escape. Maybe a kiss from him truly would tell her whether she should like him or not. She had hated that first kiss from MacBain and that should've told her to run the other way.
"Listen." She glanced at the ceiling, hoping to distract Torrin. "The storm is passing."
"Good." But he wasn't distracted. Instead, he was focused on her eyes and her lips. He leaned closer, his mouth hovering over hers. His breath warmed her skin. She liked his scent—a mixture of leather, sea air, and masculinity—and now 'twas luring her closer.
Needing to end the suspense now, she reached up and pressed her lips to his. Saints! His lips were both soft and firm. His scent threatened to disorient her. Startled at her response to him, she pulled back, breaking the kiss, but he came with her.
"'Twas not yet a proper kiss." His lips captured hers again but this time with total possession and domination. Of a certainty, 'twas a rogue's kiss, and it threatened to seduce her. He slipped one hand into her hair and with the other, he cradled her face. She found her own hands caressing the hard muscles of his back.
His actions compelled her to open her mouth and she did, inviting ever deepening kisses. Sinful kisses that made her forget where she was… forget everything but him. His tongue flicked against hers, stroked with fiery erotic movements such as she'd never experienced before. His taste was even more bewitching than his scent and it made her imagine wicked things. The two of them in her bed, their naked skin sliding.
A moan reached her ears and she realized she'd made that shocking sound. He growled an even louder moan in res
ponse and the kiss grew fiercer. Pushing her against the door, he consumed her mouth with fire and passion.
Abruptly, he pulled back, breathing hard, watching her. "Now tell me, Lady Jessie, did you enjoy that, or nay?" he asked in a low murmur.
What? He expected her to talk now? After that? His green eyes were dark as a pine forest at gloaming. His heated look dared her to deny it.
She nodded, then shook her head.
"Which is it?" He darted a glance down at her lips again as if he might want to make a meal out of her. Some part of her wished he would.
"Aye," she whispered.
"And what does that mean? You want another?"
"Nay."
He gave her a crooked grin and moved closer. "You said you didn't lie."
'Twas true; she was lying. She grasped the plaid that crossed his chest and pulled him closer. He made a sensual purring sound and took possession of her mouth again.
Her arms around his neck, she couldn't get close enough to him. With his hands at the small of her back, he drew her tight against him, and she was certain the hardness she felt pressed against her lower belly was not his sporran.
He pulled back an inch, gazing into her eyes, his heavy-lidded and dark with passion. "We suit very well indeed, m'lady, as I knew we would from the first moment I saw you."
Clearly, he was hinting about marriage again. Fear shot through her, along with a good dose of mortification. She yanked her arms from around his neck, unable to believe she'd indulged in such a sinful kiss in a church. The good reverend might make her marry Torrin if he learned of it.
She turned, jerked open the heavy wooden door, and ran outside. Most of the gale had passed and only a light mist of rain and a breeze remained. She strode quickly along the walkway and through the wooden gate of the stone-walled kirkyard.
Torrin's footsteps sounded behind her, but she ignored him and headed toward the castle. Of a certainty, she'd enjoyed the kiss, but that didn't mean she wanted to marry him. He was too pushy and domineering by far. She had found contentment living here with her family and clan. Why alter something that wasn't a problem?
She had wanted a family of her own once, during her first betrothal and even when she'd been in the trial marriage to MacBain. But when that faux marriage had shattered upon the rocks, some of her dreams had died. Maybe she was barren as MacBain had accused. And if so, why would Torrin want to marry her? He needed an heir.
She stopped and turned. Almost running into her, Torrin grasped her arms, steadying them both.
"I'm barren," she said. Her throat tightened and closed and tears burned her eyes. She tore herself away from his hold and ran toward the castle gates.
"Jessie," he called after her, but she didn't stop.
There, she'd told him the truth, the reason they couldn't marry. They didn't suit at all because he needed an heir more than anything, and she couldn't provide one.
***
A quarter hour later, Torrin knocked at Jessie's bedchamber door. The woman he wanted for his wife was not barren. 'Twas impossible. He refused to believe it.
Her kiss had bewitched him. Once his lips had touched hers, he'd been certain she was the only woman for him. Never had a kiss affected him so profoundly. 'Twas not only the lust which had consumed his body, but his heart had somersaulted within his chest. She was the woman he'd dreamed of the whole of his life.
He knocked again.
"Who is it?" Jessie's muffled response came from inside the room.
"Me. Torrin."
"What do you want?"
"To talk." That much should be obvious to her.
"There is naught to talk about," she assured him in a firm voice.
"I disagree," he growled. They had plenty to talk about. He had imagined her as the mother of his children for more than six months. And now, to suddenly be told that wouldn't be possible was a blow to his vitals.
"Did you not hear what I said outside?" she demanded.
"Of course, I heard. 'Tis why I'm here now. How do you ken 'tis true?"
"How do you think?" she practically yelled through the door. "When I was with MacBain, I was unable to conceive a bairn."
"Iosa is Muire Mhàthair." He detested the sound of MacBain's name, and to once again imagine the bastard lying with Jessie gutted him.
A chambermaid approached along the corridor. Once she had disappeared into a room, he turned back to the door. "Let me in. I want to talk about this in private. Servants are passing by."
"How grand," she muttered. "Gossip will be all over the castle by morn." She removed the bar from the door and opened it. "Very well. Do come in, m'laird. This is not at all scandalous," she said in an impertinent tone.
He slammed the door closed and barred it. When he faced her and saw the unshed tears glistening in her eyes, annoyance pounded through him. Not annoyance at her but at the situation. "Mayhap MacBain is not as virile as he thinks," he said.
She shrugged. "He was able to sire a son with his lovely wife after that."
"How many times did you lie with him?" Torrin hated the image in his head of Jessie with that whoreson. It made him want to break MacBain's nose again, along with a few of his limbs.
"I didn't count. 'Twas three months."
"Were you not in the trial marriage for a year and a day?"
"Aye, but he lost interest and found a prettier lass to secretly spend his nights with."
"There could be no prettier lass than you," Torrin muttered, remembering how her hair had shimmered like red flames in the sunlight today, and her eyes had rivaled the bright blue sky. Now, in the dimness of the room, the colors were more subdued but no less beautiful.
"I thank you, but…" She shook her head, tears dripping onto her cheeks.
He wanted to hold her in his arms, brush all her tears away, then kiss her, but he was unsure what her response would be. Seeing her cry was like a punch to the gut. "I should've hurt MacBain worse than I did. Should've broken both his legs."
"Nay. There was no need. I just hope he stays gone."
"Why did you not leave him when he turned his attention to the other woman?"
"I had no proof. Besides, 'twas against the agreement I'd signed. I had to stay for a year and a day, no matter what, other than physical abuse of course."
"He didn't abuse you?"
"He never hit me, if that's what you mean. But he could be rather insulting at times. My father regretted making the arrangement, but there was naught either of us could do until the year was up, because MacBain kept the other woman a secret. There were rumors, but I didn't know who she was at the time. Only later did I find out he married her soon after I left."
Torrin paced before the small fireplace where a low fire burned. "Well, simply because you lay with MacBain off and on for three months and didn't conceive doesn't mean you're barren."
"'Haps you're right. But you're a chief and will want an heir. I'm certain marrying me would be a risk you wouldn't wish to take. And I refuse to sign another trial marriage agreement. Men have no concept of what that does to a woman."
Some called the trial marriage handfasting, and he could see the benefit of it. But now he tried to imagine the situation from the female viewpoint… from Jessie's viewpoint. 'Twas indeed a precarious position for a woman. A marriage might hinge on whether or not she was able to conceive. In any case, he wouldn't ask that of her. He wanted a real marriage. "I'm sorry you went through that. I can tell 'twas hard for you and it left some lasting damage."
She nodded, gazing into his eyes with a bit more trust than before. "'Tis not something I want to experience again. I've had two broken engagements. The first time, I was betrothed to one of the Keith allies, but he disappeared the day before the wedding and I never saw him again."
"A daft fool," Torrin muttered. What was wrong with these imbecilic men? Now only was Jessie a stunningly beautiful woman, she was also strong, tall and proud. A warrior princess? A goddess? Aye, indeed.
"Mayhap he had a
premonition about—"
"Jessie," Torrin chided softly. "Don't say it. You're not barren."
"You don't know that."
"Neither do you. There's only one way to know for sure." Aye, he was ready for the challenge.
Jessie narrowed her eyes, glaring at him, but now—since the kiss—he saw more than just her ire. The way her pale blue eyes darkened told him she was more than interested in his suggestion. The way her hands had dug into his hair and held his head had told him she'd relished the kiss.
"Would it be so terrible?" he asked.
"For you, nay."
"You enjoyed the kiss near as much as I did. You cannot lie about that. And I can guarantee you will not leave my bed unsatisfied."
"Must you be so vulgar?"
Wry amusement came over him. "I was but speaking the truth, m'lady. And furthermore, I promise to give you pleasures such as you have never experienced before."
"'Tis but a game to you, aye?" she snapped. "This is my life we're talking about."
Frustration and need gored him. He knew he was right; he simply needed to prove it to her. "You want to live your whole life never knowing whether or not you're barren?"
She shook her head and stared into the fire's embers for a few moments. "It matters not. Birthing a bairn might kill me anyway."
Fear sliced through him. Every man's worst nightmare—the wife he loved dying while trying to bring their child into the world. "Why do you say that?" he demanded.
"My mother died giving birth to me. 'Tis not that rare."
"I'm sorry. I didn't know."
"For a long time, I felt I was to blame."
"Nay. How could you be?"
She shrugged. "I know these things happen sometimes and no one is to blame."
"You're a healthy, strong woman. I'm certain you will be able to birth many bairns." He prayed she could, for he wanted no one else to be the mother of his children. He'd been imagining her as his wife for months. He'd even wondered what their children might look like. Would they have a son with flaming red hair, or chestnut brown like his? 'Haps several with each. Lasses, too. He'd imagined them living a long, happy life at Munrick.
A knock sounded at the door.
"Who is it?" Jessie asked.
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