“I see,” drawled the earl. He stepped around a few dead bodies to get closer to his brother.

  Rose watched him, unsure of whom she was looking at. Could this be the man who raised her? He’d been caring and protective, patient and sometimes…a bit…controlling. She couldn’t—she didn’t want to believe that he was behind it all. It was too much. It made her feel as if she were going mad.

  “You sent this mongrel,” he said, pointing at Tristan.

  Rose stepped forward and slapped his hand out of the way. “You and your pet monster have no place passing such judgment when you killed my mother and an innocent fifteen-year-old girl.”

  Her father gave her an angry look mingled with disgust. “’Tis time you were brought to your place with that venomous tongue of yours. I have spoiled you long enough. Things will change when your lowborn Highland husband is dead, and you are free to live with Neill and me. I will find us a new place to live with bigger, stronger gates and—”

  “Bigger, stronger gates?” Rose laughed hysterically. “Live with the both of you? Oh, Father,” she said, growing serious, indeed, somber, “you truly are mad.”

  “Who told you about me?” Neill asked, stepping in front of her father and glaring at the governor as if he wanted to vow out loud that he would to kill him.

  “It makes sense to me, Neill,” Rose told him, pulling his attention to her and soothing the fury in his eyes. “I used to love you.”

  “And you love me no more?”

  Boldly, she shook her head. “Not while you stand with him. Who knows who he will command you to kill next?” She shook her shoulders as if discarding a cloak and held up her head. “Put down your sword and let there be no more enmity between us.”

  “I have no enmity toward you, Rose.” When he said her name, he smiled over her shoulder at Tristan.

  Rose turned to look at her husband. Tristan didn’t smile back.

  “Neill,” she snapped at him, “if you do not cease acting this way, I will no longer speak to you. Not ever.”

  He looked worried for a moment and then he smiled. “I could convince you.”

  “By forcing me to live with you? Locked away once again?” She looked at him with anger. She knew he hated it and now she knew why. He was the earl’s bastard son. Not worthy of a title, or of the respect Rose received. He’d lived with being a servant his whole life, the son of his master. She wanted to feel sorry for him, but he’d killed her mother.

  “There will be no shame. ’Twill not be an intimate marriage,” he told her to ward off some of the same.

  “Or a loving one,” she promised. “Now put down your sword and let this end. Look around you. You still have to fight Uncle Richard’s men, Mr. Jones, the captain, and Tristan.”

  Neill began to lower his weapon—when the earl moved forward and slapped his face. “Wake up! She has you under her spell!”

  Rose clenched her jaw until it hurt—until everything hurt. She cried out. Neill’s eyes on her were big and blue. “Neill, I thought you were the monster but ’twas Father for making you feel like you were not enough. That you had to please him by doing his evil deeds.”

  She dared not look away at Tristan and her uncle and especially not her father. She had to make Neill believe her. She had to make him believe that she was on his side otherwise he would end up dead here today.

  She’d seen Tristan fight before. She knew he was quick. But when he saved Mary a little while ago, she had barely seen him move, he was so fast. She knew he could kill Neill and her father if he chose to. Why had everything changed? Just a few hours ago, she’d almost killed Neill herself. But he wasn’t her brother before. She didn’t want her husband to kill her father or her brother—no matter how mad in the head they both were, or what they had done. She would not live with that blot on her marriage.

  “Father,” she said, turning to him brokenhearted, “you have lied to me my entire life—”

  “Neill, quiet her,” her father commanded.

  The very fact that Neill went to her to quiet her and wore a pained look on his face as he came convinced Rose that he would obey any command her father gave over hers. She glanced at Captain Harper, her only friend, who had lied to her for the last twelve years of her life—for her father’s sake. Her gaze swept to her husband—her one truth in all of this.

  He stepped in front of her—blocking her from her brother.

  “D’ye think ye can beat me?” Tristan’s challenge was issued with restrained passion as he lifted his blade, gripping it in both hands.

  “I know I can,” Neill answered, just as confidently.

  “Come on then.” Tristan took one hand off his hilt and motioned for Rose to stand away. Immediately, the captain was there to lead her away, but Rose wanted to resist and stop this from happening.

  She knew it was already too late for Tristan to go back. No longer behind him, she could see his leashed fury shooting forth from the vivid emerald of his eyes.

  He was ready to kill.

  Rose could have called out both, but neither would listen. They came together in a clash of metal and a grunt as they smashed their bodies into each other.

  “Ye are hurtin’ her,” she heard Tristan tell him. “I will give ye an instant to look at her and see what ye are doin’.” He stepped back half an inch as Neill’s gaze cut to her almost against his own will.

  The instant was over. Tristan raised his sword and brought it crashing down on Neill’s.

  Her brother fought back well. He’d always been skilled, and he’d always practiced being better. And he was.

  But Tristan had been raised by people who fought and killed in various battles—whether for self or for country. Fighting was bred into him and the fear of death was bred out.

  Wasn’t it his mother who had taught him to climb trees when she went to battle with his father over her castle?

  A chill went up Rose’s spine. Tristan could kill everyone here. Was he nothing but another monster, trained to kill and die if necessary?

  No. She grinded her teeth. He was so much more. He’d stopped for her. In a place and time where everyone was afraid of getting sick from someone else, he’d stopped for her. He assigned himself her guardian and protected her from beasts and monsters. He’d done more for her than anyone and he made her belly flip and her blood go warm while he did it.

  Neill came at him with another chopping blow. Tristan easily stepped out of his way.

  Recovering quickly, Neill swung and clashed his blade with Tristan’s. Sparks flew. Tristan fought him off with speed and skill, and stamina. Neill circled him. Everyone scurried from his path. Tristan waited, still as a feline ready to pounce.

  Rose caught Neill’s eyes and she let him see her plea in hers. He paused and then looked at her father and dropped his sword on the floor.

  Rose closed her eyes and breathed in relief. She hadn’t thought he’d listen to her.

  “What do you think you are doing?” her father demanded. “Pick up that sword!”

  “You do not have to listen to him, Neill,” Rose urged.

  Tristan turned to face Neill fully. Rose didn’t know what he was thinking but his gaze fell to Neill’s sword on the ground.

  “I want to please him.”

  Rose looked at Tristan when Neill spoke. She tried not to care about what he’d been through in his life, but she failed at her endeavor. Tristan looked remarkably unfazed.

  “So, all that ye told Rose aboot her uncle were lies?” Tristan asked him.

  Neill nodded and looked at their father as Mr. Jones and the rest of her uncle’s men laid hold of the earl. “I have not been able to see you or look after you for many years because I killed a young girl. He would not let me in. None of the men would. I missed you, and I hated him for it.”

  “I feared the monster I created would eventually kill me,” her father told him, hearing what they were saying.

  “And yet,” Neill snarled, “you are still alive.”

  “’Tis only a matter of time,” her father complained. “I know that now.”

  Neill shrugged his shoulders as if he didn’t care one way or the other. He turned to Rose. “I love you, Rose.”

  She shook her head and backed up. “You robbed me of so much.”

  “Aye, I know,” he said, sounding sickened, looking fully repentant. He lowered his voice so that only she could hear. Her and Tristan. “I will not take any more.”

  He pulled a smaller sword from his boot and rushed her.

  But Tristan stood between them and stepped forward. He swung his blade across Neill’s belly and turned so that he was facing Rose and his back was to her brother when Neill’s innards slipped to the floor.

  They both closed their eyes and prayed to God for her brother’s forgiveness.

  Her father broke free of the captain’s hand. “Rose! Rose, what have you done?”

  She was shaking. Every muscle in her body was trembling. She felt like a tightly coiled spring about to pop.

  Her view changed from her father’s accusing eyes to a wall of forest green. She tilted her head and looked into her husband’s eyes. He dropped the knife he’d used to kill Neill. He held his arms outward a bit, inviting her to come in for comfort if she needed it.

  She needed it and went to him. All at once, he filled her senses. Arriving in his arms, cocooned in his tender yet consuming embrace made her shed her anxious thoughts. The scent of him blazed a path through her nostrils straight to her lungs. She breathed him in and let his loving embrace soothe her.

  “Let us leave this place,” came his deep, rumbling voice, close to her ear.

  She let him lead her to her uncle and to Emma.

  “Rose,” came her uncle’s thick, raspy voice. “I do hope you will forgive me someday.

  “Uncle, I forgive you now.” She let go of Tristan, for she felt stronger now. She stepped into her uncle’s waiting arms. She gave him a quick squeeze and then let him go.

  She went to Emma next. “Take care, my dearest.” After she hugged her cousin, Emma leaned into her. “Is he truly your husband, Rose?”

  Rose smiled and nodded, looking at him while he spoke to her uncle. Mr. Jones had left the manor house with her father.

  “I see he has pretty eyes. Does he have the other traits you wanted?”

  Rose shook her head. “No. None.” They both laughed. Rose caught her husband’s eyes and gushed like a spring maiden when he winked at her.

  She heard her uncle plead with him to take back the money. Tristan wouldn’t hear of it. In the end though, he took it and hired the governor’s remaining men to bury Neill. He gave them the money to split between them.

  “Set a marker of his name in case his sister wants to find him.”

  They agreed and took the money, then bid them farewell when they left.

  They met the captain and Mary at the doors where they waited. “Where’s the earl?” Tristan asked the captain.

  “Jones likely took him out so Rose would not to have to look upon him.”

  Harper looked to Rose. “Rose—” the captain began.

  “I’m weary.” She cut him off with a tender smile on Mary and then on him. “We will speak on it tomorrow.”

  The captain nodded and looked at Tristan. “What about tomorrow? What are we to do with the earl?”

  “He needs to be brought before the High Steward. I will bring him or ask Jones—unless you wish to travel to Edinburgh and explain your part in all this.”

  Mary shook her head and held on to her husband’s arms. “I will not have him taken from me.”

  Tristan nodded. “I will take him myself then.”

  Rose didn’t want Tristan to go to Edinburgh with her father. One of them would kill the other on the way. Her father could never defeat Tristan in a fight, so he wouldn’t fight. He was clever and deceived others easily. Could he deceive Mr. Jones?

  Heart thrashing, she watched Tristan push open the doors. She breathed in the cool night air to slow and steady her heart. Mr. Jones would never allow her father to escape and kill them.

  Tristan whistled into the dark for Mr. Jones, but no answer came.

  “Stables,” the captain said and began going that way. The others followed. Rose noted that Tristan had unsheathed his sword.

  They reached the stables and discovered Mr. Jones’ and her father’s horses were gone.

  The stable hand could tell them nothing save that the “younger” man seemed to be taking orders from the older man.

  Forcibly or of Mr. Jones’ own accord? They did not know. Her father was gone.

  “We should stay at the manor house for the night,” the captain suggested. “I do not want the women in the open and in the dark with the earl running around.”

  Tristan agreed. “What do ye think aboot Jones?”

  The captain shook his head. “He has been in the earl’s service for four years. He has never given me reason to believe his disloyalty.”

  “Disloyalty to whom?” Tristan asked him.

  The captain looked around. “To the earl.” His gaze found Tristan and settled on him. “We should go.”

  They hurried back to the manor house and told the earl’s brother what was going on. They would help put the dead outside then lock the house up tight for the night.

  Rose waited with Mary and Emma in the manor house’s large sitting room. They spoke about the earl and about Rose’s husband.

  “He saved my life, as well,” Mary shared with Emma. “He loves Rose very much.”

  Emma smiled. “’Tis an odd match. Rose, you are so quiet while he…father says he has a terrorizing reputation.”

  “He is worthy of it,” Rose assured her cousin. “But not with me. With me, he is different. He gave me his tea and bought me a dress.” They talked and giggled, and then worried about the earl.

  By the time Tristan returned to her an hour later, she was excited to see him and eager to lock them away from the rest of the world. She wanted to be alone with him to discuss the future, but more than that, she needed his comfort from the day.

  When she saw him, her smile began in her soul and reached her eyes as well as her mouth.

  Emma showed them to one of the many bedrooms in the house and then left them alone with a knowing smile.

  Whatever her cousin thought was going to happen, Rose hoped she was correct.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Tristan gazed down at his wife and sank inside her again.

  They were both short on strength and weary of mind, but they needed this intimacy and release that only they could give each other. They needed it more than sleep.

  He loved her—how she felt beneath him and around him. Running his fingers through her hair, he pulled back her head and ravished her throat, raking his teeth across her flesh, kissing her neck, her chin. Licking her lips and then biting them. “Ye taste fine, love,” he groaned over her flesh and sank deep inside her again. He wanted to throw back his head and howl with pleasure like some feral beast.

  She surprised and delighted him by tugging at his hair and pulling him over, landing him on his back. She went with him but slipped apart from him.

  Looking into his eyes, she wet her dry lips and impaled herself on him with a soft grunt that nearly drove him mad. He almost found his release but leashed back the savage so the man could have a go.

  He took her rump in his hands and raptured in the feel of her enjoying him.

  Her body squeezed and convulsed around him until he shot forth his seed as deep as it could go.

  They panted, drained of all strength to continue. She fell on top of him without withdrawing. Tristan liked it and smiled, holding her closer.

  They awoke the next morning in the same position, though separate.

  “Good mornin’, love,” he greeted when he opened his eyes and found her staring at him.

  He felt a wee bit hard already so waking to find her warm body on his was immensely pleasurable.

  “Did you sleep well, Tristan?”

  “Like a brick,” he said and slanted his smile at her.

  She smiled back. “You look fine at first light. You feel fine as well.”

  “Hmm?” he grinned and closed his arms around her. He flipped them over without severing their connection.

  “I feel refreshed,” he said, hovering over her. She giggled and then stopped when he showed her how ready he was.

  There came a knock at the door. ’Twas Harper. “The governor’s family is breaking fast.”

  “We will be down shortly.”

  “Now!” the captain commanded and knocked again. “’Tis rude to make them wait.”

  Tristan opened his eyes and cast his ready wife a regretful look. “Aye, we are gettin’ oot of bed now.”

  He pushed off her and after a quick wash in the basin, they dressed and left the room holding hands.

  Tristan wasn’t surprised at how perfectly her hand fit into his. Everything about her fit perfectly into him.

  “Good morning,” everyone greeted.

  “How was your bed?” the governor asked. “Did you sleep well?”

  They all agreed that they did. Mary blushed the hardest.

  “You four must be positively famished,” Emma remarked and then giggled.

  Rose was. She ate to her fill and then Emma showed her around the grounds.

  “I had such plans for us, Rose. When we got home, I wept every day for a fortnight about you being sick. I never knew about my father hiring Tristan MacPherson to kill your father. To tell you the truth, I do not know what I would have done if I had known.”

  When they were done walking, they turned back for the house. Three of the governor’s guards walked with them under Emma’s order but the gates were locked. No one could get in.

  That was why she was so stunned when an arrow thumped into one of the guards’ chest. Emma screamed and dashed away. An arrow was shot through her skirts. It missed her body. Rose shouted, “Father, do not shoot Emma!” She knew the arrows were coming from behind the stables.

  Horrified, Rose realized that her father hadn’t left the grounds last eve. But Tristan had scouted the area and found nothing.