"I thank you." She gave a playful curtsy.

When the sunlight dimmed, Jessie glanced up and noticed thick black clouds approaching from behind the cliffs. "We'd best go back," she said over the rising wind and handed him the bow. She had been so focused on learning to shoot the bow—and on Torrin—that she hadn't paid attention to the sky.

He surveyed the clouds above. "Aye."

After he quickly gathered the arrows and plaid target, they took off at a brisk walk. Moments later, great rain drops splattered Jessie's hair and clothing. Blowing sand stung her face and hands. She sped up to a trot, and he was on her heels, but it was obvious they were not going to make it back to the castle before the downpour.

"The church," she called out over the fierce wind and thunder. It would be a good shelter. It was just off the beach and closer than the castle.

"Aye," he agreed, running alongside her.

Approaching the church, she pushed through the small wooden gate first, ran along the flagstone walkway and shoved open the heavy oak door.

Once inside the small stone building, he closed the door behind them. "The weather here is vicious."

"Indeed. Sometimes the only warnings are those dark clouds," she said, breathing hard.

"I've been out in some bad gales, but this appears to be one of the worst." He lay the bow and arrows on the floor.

Their loud breaths echoed through the church while rain pounded the slate roof.

"'Tis a new kirk, aye?" He glanced around.

Jessie nodded, admiring the polished oak ceiling, the carved pillars and beams. Her favorite were the stained glass windows, not so bright and colorful now since the sun was hidden by the clouds. "My father had it built last year, just before his death."

Torrin frowned. "I was sorry to hear of his passing."

"I thank you." She appreciated his compassionate tone, but it also made her a bit tongue-tied. "Da's tomb is here." She walked toward the front of the church and stopped before a plaque. Griff MacKay's face was carved into the stone along with his name and position. Though she hadn't been as close to her father as she might have been if she'd stayed here all her life, she did miss him intensely. He had been a good man and a much admired chief.

"I remember him." Torrin smiled. "A jovial and boisterous man with red hair and blue eyes."

"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.