Chapter Five #3
Besides, he didn't want just a kiss from her; he wanted so much more. A lifetime. Sometimes, when he looked into her eyes, he could see it all, a wonderful future for them. But perhaps 'twas only his active imagination.
He was further disappointed when she didn't appear in the great hall during the midday meal. He didn't go into the kitchen again, searching for her. Clearly, she was avoiding him, and 'haps he should give her some time. Maybe he'd frightened her more than he'd realized that morn.
An hour after the meal, from the ramparts, Torrin spied Jessie sitting on the beach in the sand, her red hair as bright as a flame in the early afternoon sunshine, although most of her was hidden by a large clump of grass.
He wasn't overly concerned about her safety, since MacBain and his men were on their way south under heavy guard.
But when Jessie hung her head and wiped at her eyes, he frowned. Was she crying? What the devil?
He made his way down multiple sets of winding stone steps and outside to the beach. Quickly, he strode toward her.
Indeed, when she glanced up at him, her face was wet with tears and her eyes were red.
"Lady Jessie, has something happened?" He dropped to his knees in the soft sand beside her.
"Och." She dried her eyes with a handkerchief, then wiped her nose. "Nay. 'Tis naught for you to be concerned about."
She refused to meet his eyes, but she looked incredibly sad. Was she already in love with someone and that was why she had no interest in him?
"You miss… someone?" If there was another man, he had to know.
She stared down and bit her lip, obviously trying to stop her tears. But it didn't work. She again cried quietly into her handkerchief.
He wanted to put an arm around her and comfort her, but he didn't think she would appreciate that. Instead, he sat beside her on the warm sand and sucked in a deep breath of the salty sea air. If her heart was broken because a lover had left her, he wanted to be the one who was there for her.
"My dog died last month," she said. "He just got old. His name was Ossian, and he was a deerhound. He always went for walks on the beach with me and… everywhere."
"Och. I'm so sorry, lass." Although he was sad she'd lost a beloved pet, he was glad she was not crying over a lost love. Even more now, he yearned to put his arm around her and draw her close, but he feared that would be too much too soon. So he kept his hands to himself.
"I know I'm daft, getting so upset over losing a dog, but he was my best friend these last eight years."
"'Tis not daft at all. 'Tis indeed heartbreaking to lose a close friend or family member, whether human or beast. I had a dog I loved more than anything when I was a lad, and when I lost him, it almost killed me."
"I'm sorry to hear it."
"I didn't want anyone to know how hurt and sad I was over losing him. I feared they'd see me as weak. I'd walk along the loch or up a hill to be alone so I could cry my heart out." 'Twas true, and this was the first time he'd told anyone.
"'Tis good to know that men cry, too."
"Aye, we do; we just don't want anyone to ken it."
She nodded and drew spirals in the sand with a stick.
The sea breeze whipped at her hair. He did naught but enjoy the simple moment in her presence.
'Twas a comfortable silence that stretched out between them.
He felt closer to her at that moment than ever before.
But he also wanted to take away her sadness and see her smile.
He wasn't even ashamed to make a fool of himself to do it.
"Although I'm not too furry, I could be your new deerhound. I could go with you for walks on the beach and protect you."
She gave a short, tear-filled chuckle. "You're mad."
"You could tell me all your troubles, and I would simply watch you with my big sad eyes."
She glanced at him. "You don't have big sad eyes."
"I wouldn't even mind if you scratched me behind the ears or rubbed my belly."
She half-heartedly threw the stick at him and tried to hide her smile. "You are horrid."
"'Tis true, but I made you smile." When she didn't respond, he said, "I could go back and get my bow and a few arrows, then we could walk along the beach that way.
" He pointed toward the right. "And I could teach you archery.
If I don't behave myself, you can shoot me or use one of your hidden blades on me. "
She sent a confused frown his way. "Why are you so determined to teach me how to shoot a bow?"
He shrugged. "I think you would be good at it. You're tall; you have long arms. You remind me of a warrior princess."
She gave him a narrow-eyed look as if he were daft. "Living in a make-believe world, are we, MacLeod?"
He smirked. When it came to her, he likely did, but he couldn't stop himself. "Well, you're always threatening me with those hidden knives you carry on your person at all times. I would truly love to see if you ken how to use them like a warrior."
Lifting an auburn brow, she sent him a challenging look. "You don't believe I can use them?"
"I have no inkling. I've never seen you in action. By the time I came upon you and MacBain, you were already trussed up like a—" He clamped his lips closed.
"Like a what? A boar?"
"Nay, like a tall, elegant stag."
She snorted and leapt up. "Come. I'll show you. We'll go to the end of the beach, near the cliffs where your guards upon the ramparts cannot help you."
He laughed. "Saints! You must indeed be deadly."
"I've hurt a few men but never killed anyone."
"'Tis a great comfort to me," he said in a dry tone and stood, smiling at her cocky attitude. "I'm up for the challenge, m'lady. But surely we aren't going to fight with sharpened blades. I don't wish to hurt you either."
She chuckled and headed along the beach.
Using long, quick strides, he caught up with her. "Are you certain you don't wish me to go back for the bow and arrows?"
"Thinking you'll need an extra weapon to defeat me?" she asked.
"Ha. Not likely."