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have been the next chief. And his father still burned with the need for retaliation and justice.
    "I have no inkling," she said. "I've never met Nolan."
    "He's an outlaw. And I'm sure Lady Isobel told you what he tried to do to her. I'm not like him in the least."
    Aye, Isobel had told her plenty. Enough for her to know she wanted to have naught to do with the MacLeods . And yet, something about him lured her. The sensual shape of his lips, the intent male interest in his eyes, his tall, lean-muscled body. 'Twas only physical attraction—a dangerous physical attraction, for no corresponding emotion lay beneath it.
    "I'm glad you're not like him. Well, I must see to the kitchen servants about midday meal." She moved into the doorway.
    "Lady Jessie?" he said in an almost desperate tone.
    Startled, she paused, eying him with suspicion. Why would he say her name in such a way? Was he desperate to gain her affection? "Aye?"
    "I hope you know I would never harm you. I'm here to protect you." His tone was softer, warmer, and she almost believed him.
    Why couldn't he have been someone else? Someone she hadn't witnessed at his most brutal.
    She nodded. Strangely, she wished she could trust him. And maybe he was telling the truth now, but that couldn't erase what he'd done. "I thank you."
    Male voices echoed down the corridor and loud footsteps pounded toward them. Sticking her head out into the passageway again, she saw MacBain and one of his men charging toward her.
    "There you are, m'lady. I've searched the castle for you."
    "Why?"
    "Because that vile MacLeod is missing, too, and I don't trust the whoreson."
    She glanced back into the room at Torrin, who made for the door, a thunderous expression on his face.
    "Are you wanting your nose broken again, MacBain?" he asked.
    "What the hell are you doing here, in a bedchamber, with Lady Jessie?" MacBain's face turned as red as his injured nose. The area around his eyes was a bruised blue color.
    " 'Tis none of your concern."
    "I wholeheartedly disagree. I came to woo and marry this lady in a most honorable way. You are naught but a rogue set on using her and casting her aside."
    "Ha. You are the one who used her and cast her aside!" Torrin accused. " 'Tis clear to everyone you will do the same again if given the chance. On the other hand, my intentions are honorable."
    Mortified by Torrin's candor in regards to MacBain using her, Jessie wished she could crawl into one of the trunks.
    "Well… nay. I'm a changed man," MacBain said, stretching his neck up as if trying to stand taller. "I have already apologized to her for my past mistakes. No one is perfect, not even you, MacLeod."
    Torrin gave a derisive laugh and shook his head. "We'll let the lady decide," he said in a hushed tone.
    "The lady has decided she is weary of this daft arguing." Jessie bypassed MacBain and headed toward the stairwell.
    "Out of my way, MacBain," Torrin ordered.
    Footsteps thudded on the wooden floor behind her. She quickened her pace down the stairwell, eager to be free of these two crowing roosters and have some time alone to think. Just before the last step, her foot caught in her skirts and she tumbled forward, her knee smashing onto the stone floor. Pain shot up her leg.
    "Blast!"
    "Lady Jessie?" Torrin exclaimed just behind her, then knelt by her side, his arm around her. "How badly are you hurt?"
    " 'Tis only a bruised knee," she assured him, trying to shrug off his strong, protective arm. Aye, the sensation of his arm around her was warm and comforting, but this only served to heighten her discomfort . She attempted to push to her feet.
    "Here, let me help you." He removed his arm from around her and offered his hand instead.
    Much as she was tempted to take his hand, she could not bring herself to. "Nay. I am well."
    He released a breath. "Do not be so stubborn."
    "What has happened?" MacBain thundered, standing over them.
    "Can you not see? She fell," Torrin snapped.
    "Allow me to help you up,