Chapter Four #4
"Mo chreach," she muttered under her breath for she loved the outdoors and nature. Walking on the beach was one of the few pleasures left to her. And she refused to allow MacBain to take that away from her.
"My men will escort them off MacKay lands tomorrow, but who knows if he will return? I believe not a word he says."
"Nor do I." Her dirk came to mind and she glanced about, but then remembered she'd dropped it on the beach. Had one of the MacBains picked it up? Her sgian dubh should be nearby. Since it was a dark metal, 'twas too dark to see it easily now.
"What is it?" Torrin asked.
"I lost my dirk and my sgian dubh."
"I'll help you find them tomorrow."
The MacLeods disarmed the MacBains and bundled all the weapons in a large piece of canvas. 'Haps her knives were among them. If not, she'd have to search the dunes and the beach in the morn, with Torrin's help.
He offered his arm.
"I'll manage on my own," she said, dismissing his offer of help through the dunes, grasses and bushes.
It wasn't that she didn't want to touch him—she certainly did.
But she was already anxious and on-edge, and he would only make her more so.
She was too aware of him and his lean, iron-hard strength.
Every time she was near him, her heart pounded harder and her hands grew jittery. What was wrong with her?
They made their way back to the castle, Jessie trying not to touch Torrin or bump into him.
But she felt his attention on her. As they walked single file through the bushes, he glanced back at her several times.
Making sure she was safe? His attentive protectiveness confused and perplexed her.
Was he truly such a good man? Or was he pretending so she'd let down her guard?
She didn't see how he could be a good man after the ruthless way he'd killed Lyall Keith.
Though he had let Gregor MacBain live when she'd asked it of him.
As they entered the bailey, she saw by the light of the torches that her clothing was ripped from the thorns and her skirts and sleeves filthy with sand. Her face was also likely dirty. Placing her hand against it, she felt the grit of sand and tried to brush it away.
Concerned clansmen and women inquired whether she was injured, as did Iain, Aiden, Uncle Conall, and several others.
"Nay. I thank you but I am well," she assured them.
Once in the great hall, Torrin asked her, "Could I speak to you in private?"
Och, nay. What now? She did not wish to spend any more time alone with him. Already her nerves were frayed, and it had less to do with the kidnapping attempt than with her rescuer. "Might I change clothes first? I'm filthy."
"Aye, of course." He didn't appear any worse for wear and certainly not as if he'd been in a skirmish. He bowed, then she hastened toward the stairs.
Once Jessie had given herself a sponge bath and her maid, Dolina, had helped her dress in clean clothing and straightened her hair, she descended the steps again.
What on earth could Torrin wish to speak to her about in private? They had been alone, for the most part, on their way back to the castle. Why hadn't he talked to her then? This must be something more important.
When she entered the great hall, he rose from the bench where he'd been sitting, talking to his friend, and approached her. His penetrating gaze swept over her quickly, then came to rest on her eyes. "You look lovely, and except for that bruise, not like you were attacked less than an hour ago."
Her face and chest heated. "I thank you."
"Is there a private place we might talk?"
"Aye, the library," she said, taking a lit candle from a nearby table and leading the way into her brother's official meeting room, off to the side of the great hall. She lit the candelabra on the table while he closed the door.
She faced him, realizing she should offer him a seat, but she didn't feel like sitting herself. And if he was going to talk about marriage again, she wanted to be able to make a quick escape.
"I want to thank you again for rescuing me," she said. "I don't know what I would've done if you hadn't come along."
He gave a brief bow. "There's no need to thank me. I only wish I could've reached you sooner."
"You arrived just in time. 'Tis all that matters."
"I'm glad you weren't hurt too badly. But I must ask… why you said what you did when I bested MacBain?" His expression shifted to that dangerous one she'd witnessed on a few occasions, though never directed at her.
"What do you mean?" She searched his face, trying to figure out what he was talking about and why he was almost angry about it.
"Don't murder him. That's what you said when I was holding the blade to MacBain's throat."
"Oh." Jessie drew in a deep breath, her stomach twisting and tying in knots as she tried to compose a reasonable excuse in her head.
"I… I simply didn't want any more death.
MacBain is a chief and if you were to kill him, there would be consequences.
The MacBain clan would no doubt attack the MacKays in revenge. "
Torrin crossed his arms over his broad chest, eying her with needle-sharp interest. "Why did you use the word murder instead of kill?"