“Trevor.”
“Trevor, now I shall know who to blame when the governor does not hear what I have to tell him about the Black Death.”
He blinked and his grin disappeared into a slow look of terror. “Who are you”
The men dismounted and began to enter the house. What could she do?
She cupped her hands over her mouth and shouted as loud as she could. The manor house had windows. Tristan would hear her. “They are coming!”
Trevor grabbed hold of her arm. “People from the south! They are coming to London!”
Trevor realized she wasn’t trying to warn anyone in the house, but rather, she was mad in the head. He began to pull her toward the entrance.
The front doors of the house burst open and shouting filled the air. Trevor’s head began to turn to see what was going on. A knife flew through the air and landed with a thump into the guard’s neck.
Standing close by, Rose opened her mouth to scream as Trevor’s body collapsed to the ground.
“Rose!” Tristan roaring her name stopped her. “Get oot of here!”
He walked backward toward her with a man’s neck held captive in the crook of his arm. With his other hand, he reached for another blade from his belt and positioned it at his captive’s neck. In front of him and closing the gap was a group of about twenty of the governor’s soldiers. Behind him was a young, frightened woman with bruises on her face and arms.
“To your left!” Rose shouted.
Tristan scowled even harder, as if he didn’t need her warning him.
With nothing but their horses and freedom behind them, Tristan stopped with the man’s back pressed against Tristan’s chest. In one hand, Tristan cupped the man’s forehead. In the other, he held the knife to the man’s throat.
Rose was afraid to look, but she couldn’t look away.
The man had to be the governor, for the other soldiers all halted.
“If one of ye takes another step, he dies!” Tristan shouted. “Turn around, every one of ye and go back into the house and shut the door!” When no one moved, Tristan drew blood along the governor’s throat. “Tell them or I will kill ye,” he warned in a quieter, even deadlier voice along the governor’s ear.
“Do as he says!” the governor screamed.
Rose wondered if Tristan had changed his mind about killing him. She hoped so. She didn’t care about his reputation or the payment he received.
She watched the men return to the house. They shut the door as Tristan had commanded.
“Who are you?” the governor demanded. “What do you want? Do you want Eleanor? Take her? She is a cold bi—!”
“Ye expect her to be warm to the rat shyte that killed her husband?” Tristan reminded him between clenched teeth.
Rose turned to look at the young woman, crying now. Eleanor?
“He took me from my children, as well,” Eleanor said through her tears.
“And to answer yer first inquiry,” Tristan continued. “I am Tristan MacPherson.”
The governor went deathly pale. “No!”
“Ladies,” Tristan said, “run.”
Eleanor took off through the open gate. Rose took a few steps but hesitated, waiting for him.
“Please! No!” Walters begged.
Tristan’s blade cut through Walter’s neck and blood spurted forth. So much of it.
“Rose,” Tristan’s low, deep voice startled her out of her terror as he let the governor go. The dead body slipped to the ground not far from Trevor.
He didn’t say anything else but took her by the wrist and ran for their horses.
Oh, would she ever forget what she had just seen? The governor had begged him. The knife slashed so smoothly and then life was gone. So quickly. She trembled at the memory. She quaked at the weight of it.
He tugged, pulling her from her thoughts.
His horse was closer. He put Eleanor on it and told Rose to mount in front of her. Rose showed him where her horse was, and he ran for it.
She followed him as he thundered away from the house, and then the town. They didn’t stop until they came to a small tavern two villages away.
After making sure they hadn’t been followed, Tristan dismounted. He waited for Rose and Eleanor to do the same, and then paid two stable hands to take the horses.
“We will be waitin’ fer Davey MacDonnell,” he told the women as he brought them to the tavern and pushed open the door. “MacDonnell fought at my side in many battles. I trust him with my life. He will take ye home to yer kin, Eleanor.”
She nodded and wiped her eyes as they sat at a small table. “Who are you, Tristan MacPherson? Why did you come to save me from the governor?
Rose smiled when his gaze slanted to hers. He’d saved this woman, as he had saved her.
He didn’t smile back.
“Yer Uncle James paid me to kill Walters and take ye back,” he told her woodenly then ordered three ales. “He awaits ye in Selkirk and will take ye home from there.”
Eleanor wept and repeated her eternal thanks for saving her from her captor.
“He beat me every day. He expected me to serve and please him after he…he killed Jamie.”
Rose pulled Eleanor into her embrace and held the woman while she wept.
When MacDonnell finally arrived, he and Tristan shared a quick embrace and some talk about what had happened at the governor’s place.
“Och, ye are a wily bastard, MacPherson. I would wager they didna even know ye were in the house until ’twas too late.”
Rose thought how correct Davey was. Tristan was silent and efficient. He’d saved Eleanor. He’d delivered her safely to MacDonnell.
But he was correct in telling her that what he did was hard to live with. He’d killed Trevor without a second thought. He’d killed the governor as easily as if he were petting the village dog. He didn’t look at his victims or acknowledge them at all when they cried for mercy.
It would be hard to live with…knowing he did it.
She sighed, afraid that she would never be able
