Chapter Six #2
"Aye. And very tall and strong." What a great warrior he had been when she was small. Sadness caught in her throat. She swallowed hard. "When I was a wee lass, he would carry me around on his shoulder, and I felt like I was on top of the world." Her eyes burned with tears.
"I know you must miss him," Torrin said in a quiet tone.
"Aye. 'Twas never the same after Da remarried. Maighread wanted me out of her sight. 'Twas one reason I was sent to foster with the Keiths. I was never as close to Da after that."
Torrin's gaze dropped. "At least your father cared for you."
"Yours didn't?"
Torrin shook his head, his face taking on a morose expression she had not seen from him before.
"Nay. He was a tyrant. He beat my brother and me every chance he got.
I tried to protect Nolan from his wrath but it rarely helped.
As we got older, Father focused most of his abuse on Nolan, for he was always displeased with him.
I think that's why he became an outlaw. He turned out just like Father, being vile to people. Or mayhap 'twas simply in his blood."
"You're not like that," Jessie said, just above a whisper. Was he? Though she hadn't known Torrin long, she was fairly certain he wasn't as ruthless as she'd first thought.
Torrin shook his head. "I'm more like my grandfather. Levelheaded. I like to think things through before doing anything drastic." He stared directly into her eyes. "I don't make rash decisions. That should tell you something."
She glanced away, unable to hold his intense gaze for more than a few seconds. "What should it tell me?"
When he remained silent for a long moment, she found it necessary to meet his gaze again. What she saw in his eyes was as turbulent as the storm overhead.
"Asking Dirk for your hand was not a rash decision. I'd had plenty of time to think about it, and you, during the month I was here last winter."
Jessie's face heated and she paced away from him, a slight panic making her heart beat harder. "But we didn't talk. You didn't know me."
"'Twas not for lack of trying. You avoided me."
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.