He was a year or two younger than Tristan. He was handsome—on one side of his face. The other side bore the scars of being burned up his chin, over his cheek and eye to his temple. She’d always considered Neill a hero from trying to save her. Yet now, she was afraid of him. She had many questions to put to him.

  While she was trying to decide which one to ask him, his gaze slipped to the captain.

  “Captain, where is the earl?” he asked.

  “He is not here. I do not know where he is.”

  Rose stared at him, recognizing his anger. “Neill, what is the matter? Why did you bring these men here?”

  “Because I did not come in peace.”

  Immediately, the captain held his long broadsword, ready for battle.

  “I would not take that posture, Captain,” he warned.

  “You are not me.”

  One of Neill’s men grabbed Rose and held a blade to her throat.

  “Put the sword down, Captain Harper,” Neill commanded. The low pitch and confidence in his voice was complete. “And I will not have Roddy kill her.”

  What? What was he saying? Oh, this was not truly happening!

  “If Roddy kills her,” the captain growled as he put away his sword, “he will be in hell a moment later.” He turned to stare into Roddy’s eyes. “And I will not need my sword to put him there.”

  Rose wanted to smile at him. But she couldn’t, she was too confused and terrified. Neill was here as an enemy. She felt tears burning the backs of her eyes. They had been friends. Why was he letting his soldier hold a knife to her throat?

  “Neill,” she finally cried out. “Please. Why are you doing this?”

  “In time, my dearest.” He smiled at her and she saw her dear, familiar friend.

  “If I am your dearest as you claim,” she flung at him, “you would not be standing there doing nothing while this brute you call Roddy is frightening me with his blade.”

  Neill’s jewel-like eyes cut to his soldier. “Roddy, if you want to keep your hands, take them off her now.”

  Roddy obeyed without hesitation.

  The instant she was free, Neill reached out and took her by the wrist.

  He stared at the captain “Where is everyone?” he called out.

  “Gone.”

  Neill’s smile faded and then he shrugged. “Oh, well. When is the earl expected back?”

  “Neill, what do you want with him?” Rose asked.

  “Rose.” The captain made a move to go to her, but she held up her palm when Neill’s men positioned themselves to kill him.

  “Who opened the gates to you?” Captain Harper demanded.

  “Why were they locked to him?” Rose asked.

  Neill set his deep blue gaze on her and his smile softened. “I have worried so often over you.”

  “Neill, I do not understand why you would come here fighting.”

  “He locked me out, Rose. The gates that kept you in were fortified to keep me out.”

  She shook her head. Her father loved Neill. “But why? Why did he lock you out?”

  “Everything will be revealed in time,” he promised. “But presently, the less you know the better. Now, I need you both to be calm while we leave.”

  He pointed to the captain. “I do not want to kill you but if you breathe off beat, I will gut you where you stand before you realize I have done it. This is all about her, understand, Captain? I’m not killing you because I know you mean something to her, and you were kind to me at times.”

  He snapped his fingers and two more men came forth and took hold of Captain Harper. “Bring them. The rest of you, everything else goes as planned.”

  “What do you mean everything else?” the captain demanded. He struggled and almost broke free.

  “Come with me and my men and all your questions will be answered—as I expect mine will be.”

  “I have nothing to tell you,” Captain Harper promised.

  “Do not make yourself expendable,” Neill said with a shrug then turned and left the castle.

  Rose and the captain were dragged outside, where they were led to a group of horses.

  When they passed Mr. Cavanaugh’s body, both the captain and Rose tried to go to him, but they were held back.

  Where was Steven? Alana? Anyone? She caught a movement out of the corners of her eyes. It was one of Neill’s men moving toward Mr. Cavanaugh’s cottage with a torch in his hand.

  Suddenly, Rose realized what was happening.

  No! No! Not Neill! It couldn’t be! Neill couldn’t be the monster! “What are you doing?” she screamed, going pale. “What have you done?”

  The captain must have also seen the man with the torch and took off running. Neill chased him. He picked up a stick on the way and smashed it over the captain’s head.

  William went down. Rose screamed again, and then someone knocked her out as well.

  She woke a little while later to the smell of smoke burning her nostrils. She was on her belly on a horse. Across a man’s thighs. All at once, she came completely awake. Her arms hung over her head and reached toward the ground. Her blood pumped through her veins, hard and fast. She felt lightheaded and ill. Fire. No. No. No!

  They weren’t so far away. She realized that if she looked back, she could see the dark smoke of Callanach Castle and whatever else Neill and his men had burned rising to the clouds. She wanted to scream, to rant, and to rave. But it would do no good. Mary, Steven, all of them. She couldn’t keep her tears from falling to the ground as they rode away. He killed them all. Neill. Neill had to be the one who…no! Why? Oh, why would he? She remembered the captain and her heart felt as if it had no more strength to beat. If Neill had killed William…she couldn’t finish the thought without feeling like sobbing.

  She wanted to push off the horse and lean up into whoever’s eyes were staring back at her and spit in his face. But if it was Neill would he set her on fire?

  She had to know for certain that it had not been Neill who burned down her house when she was a child. He’d been there. He had the scars to prove it. Did he…did he kill her mother? Had she been hiding from him since she was fourteen?

  Her father had used the gates to keep him out! Isn’t that what Neill had told her? She felt ill. More tears fell. What was she to do, remain tossed over someone’s lap with her arms uselessly flapping on either side of her?

  Her gaze returned to the distant smoke-filled sky…and a long, sheathed dagger dangling from her host’s hip. Could she grab the hilt and—no. There were too many other horses around her.

  “How long will you pretend to be asleep, Rose?”

  It was Neill’s voice! His legs she’d been tossed over! She thought about continuing to pretend, but she couldn’t. “What would you have me say thrown over your lap, facing the ground?”

  “You are prideful.” His soft laughter twisted her belly into a knot.

  “And you are a monster,” she replied.

  “How so?”

  She didn’t want to speak to him, but she had much to say and she wouldn’t do this in her position.

  With new determination, she pushed up and sat sideways in the saddle and looked him straight in the eyes. “You burned down the captain’s house with his wife in it—”

  “Just a moment,” he protested. “I was told that everyone had left. Was I not?”

  Rose stopped. He had, indeed, been told that. “Neill,” she wept. “The captain’s wife was in their home. He will never forgive you for this.”

  “What can I say?” he went on, sounding only slightly penitent.

  “Tell me you had nothing to do with burning down my house when I was eight.”

  He couldn’t maintain eye contact with her and finally gave up and shook his head. “I cannot tell you that.”

  “What do you mean you cannot tell me that?” she asked, grabbing his arm and growing hysterical. “Neill, why would you? I…I almost died!”

  He shook his head. “No! I saved you, Rose. Not your Father. ’Twas I who ran inside and saved you.”

  What? No. Her father saved her. “I do not believe you!”

  “I set the fire. I was there first. I heard you screaming long before he did.”

  Rose’s head was spinning. He set the fire. He set the fire.

  “Why did you never tell me the truth?”

  “It did not matter to me, as long as you were safe.”

  He loved her then. She didn’t care. She only cared about one thing. “Did you kill my mother?”

  He exhaled, looking into her eyes and shifted uncomfortably in his saddle. Rose watched and waited for him to answer, utterly horrified by his reluctance.

  He’d killed her mother.

  A sob burst through her lips and shook her whole body.

  He moved and tried to comfort her, but she drew back her arm then let her hand fly. It cracked him across the face and turned his head fast enough to pop his neck.

  The men around her gaped at her and then drew blades. Neill’s hand in the air stopped them.

  “Did you set her on fire while she lived?” Rose shouted at him.

  “No,” he said and took hold of her wrists.

  “You are a monster!” she screamed at him, trying to break free of his grip.

  She heard the captain moan somewhere close by. She looked around and quickly saw him sprawled across the lap of one of Neill’s men. He was waking up. She looked behind them at the black, billowing smoke rising to the sky from where their homes had been.

  Where his wife had been. Rose wanted to weep for him.

  “No!” his voice rang out. Heart wrenching and anguished from someplace only a few knew.

  “Mary! My wife! Let me go! I will kill—”

  A low thump sounded and then silence. They hit him again.

  Rose cried out for him, but he was quiet.

  “Rose,” Neill said softly, pulling her attention back to him. “You have me quite wrong.”

  She couldn’t believe he was talking about himself when he had just heard a man crying for his wife, a wife he had killed.

  “I was young when I burned your house down,” he continued, oblivious to any pain going on around him. “I did not know you would be there. I hadn’t meant to hurt you and I have been sorry for it for many years. With your mother, well, it had been time. It was duty, not personal.”

  She hated him. He spoke about killing her mother as if it were nothing at all. “You destroyed lives. You destroy them still without a care. How did I never see through your façade?”

  “There was never a façade with you, Rose.”

  She refused to be reminded of their friendship when he had lived within the gates of Callanach Castle.

  “You said killing my mother was your duty. To who?”

  “Ah, now that is the important question. One I intend to have answered for you very soon.”

  She didn’t want to wait.

  “Who paid you?” Was it the same man who paid Tristan to kill her father? “Was it a governor?” If not, just how many people wanted Thomas Callanach killed? And for what?

  She had to find out.

  “A governor?” He seemed genuinely perplexed then shook his head. “Who is this governor?”

  “I only know that he paid Tristan MacPherson to kill my father.”

  “Tristan MacPherson?” he asked, sincerely surprised. “Paid to kill your father?”

  “Aye,” she answered. “I do not know who the governor is but Tristan told me about him, so I believe he exists.”

  His eyes opened wider, though one was wider than the other because of the scarred skin on his face. “Tristan told you? When and why would he tell you anything?”

  He was very serious when it came to Tristan. It made her want to smile. Even her monster was afraid of him. She was glad she had information he wanted. It gave her a bit of power. And just how afraid of Tristan was he? Should she use it to her advantage?

  “He told me many things.”

  His eyes lit up and one corner of his mouth quirk upward. “Tell them to me.”

  “When you tell me who wants us all dead. Tell me and I will ask Tristan to spare you.”

  He laughed. “You would never do that…even if you could.”

  He was correct. She would not plead for his life. She wouldn’t argue with him.

  “Tell me why you burned down my house and why you killed my mother, and now seek to kill my father.”

  He grew serious. His gazed softened on her. “I wish I could tell you everything, but I do not think your gentle heart could take it.”

  “Neill, tell me the truth and do not be a coward today.”

  His lips quirked up at one side. “Hmm, very well, then. Shall I start at the beginning?”

  She blinked and nodded her head while he smiled at her.

  “Your mother, Christina, was at first betrothed to Richard Callanach, not Thomas. It seems Christina’s father, a very prestigious nobleman, owed large amounts of money to Richard and paid him with his daughter’s hand in marriage. Well, she ran off with Thomas and let him plant you inside her. It infuriated Richard, not because he loved her, but because she was his. He finally enlisted me to burn down your manor house. He had intended on Thomas and Christina dying, but you were supposed to be sleeping in the servants’ quarters with Estrid’s daughter, Jonetta.”

  Rose’s heart sank to her knees. After the fire, Estrid had been sent away without her daughter and was never seen again.

  Was it a coincidence that it was Jonetta in the carriage who died and was burned with Rose’s mother? And if it wasn’t, what did it mean?

  “I heard you screaming, and I realized you were inside,” Neill continued. “I went in and was nearly caught up in flames, but I found you and carried you out. I watched over you many times after that. But then your mother did the unthinkable. She whored herself—”

  “No! Cease! I will not have you defile my mother’s good name.”

  “Fine, but I warned you that you could not take this.”

  He remained quiet while they rode on. Rose thought about what he told her. She thought she might cry, but something occurred to her. “Why did you do my uncle’s bidding? My father was good to you.”

  “That is all for now. Save your mettle for when the captain awakens. He is going to need you.”

  Rose was glad. It was all too much to take in. Her head was pounding. Her mind needed an hour’s rest.

  Dear God, where was her father? Had Tristan found him and killed—no, he wouldn’t. He promised he wouldn’t.

  “Do not fret,” Neill consoled her. “I left six of my men behind to find the earl and bring him to us, and then we can end this.”

  “You mean by killing him?”

  “We shall see.”

  She remembered asking Tristan to please not kill her father. She wouldn’t do the same with Neill. She knew it wouldn’t matter what she said or did. “You are not here to kill my father for the same reason Tristan was sent to do it.”

  “You speak of him with familiarity,” her captor remarked. “What are you to him? Lover?”

  Rose gave him a stinging glare.

  “And why was Tristan paid to kill him?”

  “Because the man behind the coin thinks my father killed his wife and daughter—when in fact ’twas you who did it. So, tell me, Neill, why does my uncle want him dead still?”

  “He does not. I do.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Rose was screaming. No. He was dreaming. He had dreamed the same sound earlier, but he had not been able to wake up.

  Tristan tried to open his eyes this time. Her screaming stopped. He tried to remember what had happened. He’d fallen from the tree. He’d hit other branches on the way down, which was why he wasn’t dead.

  His eyes finally opened. The sky was dark. The air was hot and thick. It smelled like…smoke!

  Fire!

  Rose.

  He felt overwhelmingly ill. His body ached and he almost lost his breakfast twice from both the pain of his earlier wound and even worse pain in his shoulder, and the thought of Rose—he couldn’t allow himself to think it.

  It took his mind and body a moment to adjust.

  Callanach was on fire. Everything…everywhere. Where was Rose? He pulled his léine up and winced at the excruciating pain in his shoulder. He grimaced. It was out of place. He looked at the thick tree trunks around him. There wasn’t time to think on it. He had to reset his shoulder, or his arm would be completely useless to him. He held his wrist and rammed his shoulder into the nearest tree, and then fell to his knees against the thick bark. He thought he would pass out. He couldn’t. He had to hold on to his senses and find Rose. Please God, dinna let her be in the flames. Please. Please help me find her.

  Wincing in pain, which wasn’t as bad as before, he pulled his léine over his nose and mouth and lowered his head against the smoke. He was able to make out some of the cottages along the way. Swords and broomsticks were keeping the doors barred from the outside in.

  Were there people inside? He heard something from inside one of the cottages. A woman’s scream! Rose! He tore the sword away from the door and then kicked it open. Smoke billowed out into his face. He coughed, and keeping his léine over his nose, hurried inside.

  He found a woman on the floor. Not Rose. Was she alive?

  He looked back at the door. Rose. Could he make it if he carried this woman?

  What was he doing saving yet another lass from death? He cursed himself as he bent his knees and slipped his arms beneath her. Thankfully she weighed little. Still, it felt as if his arm was being torn from his shoulder all over again.

  He grinded his teeth and carried her outside. She coughed. He closed his eyes in a moment of relief.

  When he set her down against the castle wall, her eyes fluttered open. “William…”

  “Lass! Lass, where is Rose?”

  She looked at him with tears making her olive-green eyes glassy. She seemed to come out of it more for a moment and clutched his arms. “He took them.” She coughed until her face turned blood red. “He…took…” Her grip on him loosened. She would answer no more questions. At least, not now.

  He left her safe against the wall and ran for the castle. He took them. The bastard who lit this fire took Rose. He shook his head with the horror of it. He had to go find her. Now!