They made camp in a small clearing a mile away from the town. Tristan made a small fire for more warmth and readied himself for what he was going to do. He would hurry.
Rose didn’t mind sleeping outdoors as long as Tristan was with her. She watched him tie strips of cloth to his calves and thighs and then tuck various-sized knives into them all. She wished he would change his mind about killing Walters. They could rescue the woman he’d taken and send Walters off to prison. But Tristan had corrected her. First, there would be no they when it came to Walters, and second, governors, barons, earls and the like didn’t go to prison. That’s why they had him.
Governor Walters was to speak publicly tonight in the town hall. People were terrified and looking for guidance. Tristan promised not to kill him until after he reassured everyone.
“I will find a way into the governor’s manor house and take the captive woman to a safe place,” he told Rose while he pulled on his long coat. With a shrug of his broad shoulders that made her weak, he adjusted the coat then slipped on his bow and quiver. “I have already arranged fer her to be brought back to her uncle who paid fer her deliverance, so she will not be alone fer long. I will wait fer Walters in his home and take care of things, and then I will return to ye.”
“You have everything planned,” Rose said in a regretful tone.
“What is it?” he asked, obviously sensing her unease. “I told ye what I did was hard to live with, lass.”
She nodded. He had told her. But he was getting ready to make it real now. He spoke about it as if he were discussing supper. She knew Walters had done a terrible thing, but… “Tristan, is there not another way?”
He went to her and took her by the arms. “Rose,” he spoke softly and looked into her eyes. “There is no other way. I made an agreement.”
“What do I care of agreements when your soul is at stake!”
He said nothing but let her go and leaped into his saddle. “Wait here. I willna be too long.”
She waited alone for as long as she could but when she heard something growling from the trees, she mounted her horse and rode in the direction of Walters’ home.
After a little while, she spotted Tristan coming to a secluded, hilly part of the town. She stayed far behind him as he neared a large front garden with a short, six-foot gate surrounding the governor’s manor house.
It was beginning to get dark. Walters had left to go to the town hall. There were four guards patrolling the grounds from a narrow parapet around the torchlit wall. They peered out into the twilight. All was eerily quiet. The animals knew Tristan was there—somewhere, for even Rose had lost sight of him. The soldiers would have done well to listen to the odd silence.
She barely breathed from her hiding place on the other side of the trees. She’d dismounted and crouched low in the bramble. She could see nothing beyond the wall but had the perfect view of the grounds outside of it. Where had Tristan gone?
Suddenly, something rained down from the starlit sky. Rose would have missed it if one of the guards on watch hadn’t collapsed, likely dead from an arrow jutting out of his neck. Another arrow swooshed through the air and a second soldier dropped dead where he stood impaled to the wooden structure.
Rose held her hand over her mouth and waited for alarms to sound or for someone to shout out, but only more silence followed.
Where was he?
She turned her gaze upward just in time to catch sight of something dark drop from a thick branch that dangled over the wall. No guards hurried to see what or who it was because the two on this side were dead.
Was it Tristan slipping into an open window along the parapet, unseen and unhindered?
Rose marveled while she waited. Who was he? MacPherson. A Highlander, trained by his father. Once a soldier in King David’s army. He was a brother, a son, a cousin, and a nephew who liked tales of kings and glory.
She was still contemplating him when she heard the sound of horses and looked in the direction of the road. A procession of riders came toward the gate.
Rose’s heart quickened. Who was it? Was that the governor riding in the center of his guards? She panicked when the gates opened, and the procession began to enter through them. What would happen when they went inside and found Tristan making off with the governor’s captive? There were at least a dozen men including the governor. Could Tristan fight them? What about the guards already inside the house?
Would Tristan be prepared for them all? He didn’t strike her as the kind of man who was unprepared for anything. Except for her. He wouldn’t be prepared for her appearing on the scene trying to help him.
She knew she shouldn’t go, but she could not wait another instant and made her way around the trees and to the front gate before it closed.
“And what can I do for you, lovely?” a lanky guard asked her. It was getting darker, but it was still light enough to see that when he grinned, the tip of his nose hovered above his overbite.
She slipped her gaze to the procession of men entering the small courtyard then she settled her gaze on the guard and smiled. She might not know how to interact with friends or with Tristan, but she knew how to handle guards when she wanted her way.
“You can let me pass,” she told him, letting her smile linger until
