She didn’t know what he answered for they found each other’s mouths and kissed their words away.
Rose had never kissed anyone before. She had never cared. But, oh, kissing Tristan was all she had thought about. She didn’t care if she didn’t know what she was doing. She let instinct take over.
Their kisses were quick, filled with relief, passion, and possession. But all too soon, he stepped away from their tangle of arms and gathered back all his weapons. “Come. We must go. If anyone happens upon twelve dead and us kissin’ in the middle of them, we will likely be in fer the noose.”
“You came for me,” she marveled as they hurried to the tree where he’d tied his horse. “How did you find me?” she asked him as he helped her mount then pulled himself up behind her.
“I can track. I grew up doin’ it. And then I heard ye shout my name.” He looked at her and smiled.
“And the tree! How did you climb the tree?”
“My mother taught us how to climb and even walk along some branches. ’Tis how I got from here to there.”
She stared up at the treetops slack jawed. He ran through trees! She felt a little lightheaded and touched her fingertips to her temple.
“What is it?” His fathomless voice seeped into her bones. His warm breath in her hair thrilled her and made her sigh softly.
“Nothing. You are just…I can never repay you for all you have done for me.”
“I seek no recompense.”
It was a good thing since she meant what she’d said. She could never repay him. Those disgusting men would have taken their turns with her if Tristan hadn’t shown up.
“Thank you for coming for me, Tristan.”
“I had no choice, lass.” He circled his arm around her and pulled her closer and groaned near her ear. “When I saw him touchin’ ye, I wanted to tear oot his throat with my hands.”
She shivered in his arms.
“Does that shock ye?”
“Only that you would get so angry over me.”
He shook his head and closed his eyes. “I dinna mean to be so possessive of ye. I dinna know what came over me. When I awoke, alone and with a painful ache in my head, I thought I’d lost ye for good. But the tracks were fresh, and I knew I could find ye. I couldna control my thoughts. I kept thinkin’ aboot them hurtin’ ye. I knew, no matter how many there were, I would kill them all.
“When I had located ye, I left fer the treetops and followed the sounds of yer voices. It didna take long after that.”
“You fought them all.” For her. He fought them all as if she belonged to him.
“I would prefer it if ye hadna seen it though. ’Tis a part of me that willna be tamed.”
“I would not have it so,” she said, turning in his arms so that their chests touched. “I would not change a thing about you, Tristan.”
She closed her eyes and leaned her head on his chest and thought about the beast one last time before she put him out of her mind for good.
Her eyes opened. Tristan had told her things about his life. His mother climbed trees. He had siblings. A sister. A dear friend who was a priest. He was opening up to her.
“Whatever made your mother climb trees?” she asked, hoping to draw him out more.
“She wanted to attack my father’s small army that was coming to take her castle.”
Rose’s mouth fell open. Tristan’s gaze fell there. “She learned for defensive purposes?”
He nodded. “She needed to protect her castle. The safest way was from the trees. So, she had the villagers help her build walkways in the treetops with traps she set from above. She managed to kill nine of my father’s men and I’m told, she almost killed him a few times.”
Rose stared at him, stunned by the tale, in awe of his mother. “And your father? How did he fall in love with a woman who wanted him dead? He does love her, does he not?”
“More than his own breath.” A hint of a smile brightened his eyes. “I havena been home in too long.”
She hated to ask but… “How do you know if they are still well?”
“I write to them, and they write me. Actually, ’tis Father Timothy who writes. We all know how to read and write, but the good father enjoys it more than anyone else.”
“Does he live with your parents then?”
“Aye,” he told her, slowing his horse when they entered the camp.
He told her a little bit more about his family—but not where they lived in the Highlands. She didn’t blame him for being secretive. If even common miscreants knew of him and trembled at his name, he must have many enemies. And what better way to get to a man than through the people he loved? She knew that lesson firsthand.
She would never tell anyone about him. She thought about her father. She’d have to tell him. How would she explain to him that she was falling in love with an infamous, merciless killer who was tender and thoughtful to her?
“I don’t want to ride my own horse, Tristan,” she told him softly when they were packed and ready to leave.
“Oh?” he asked with half a smile. “D’ye want to ride with me?”
She nodded. “Just for a little while longer. I like leaning on you. It does not make my back hurt.”
He nodded and tied their horses together then leaped into his saddle first. He leaned down and pulled her up across his thighs and into his arms.
They traveled at a slow pace, nibbling on apples and on each other. He kept her warm, wrapped in his plaid and his embrace. She didn’t want to hurry their pace and get to their destination sooner. The sooner they reached Dumfries, the sooner they faced a future together or alone. She loved her father and she missed
