She stared at him, chewing her lower lip. He’d frightened her. He was glad. If he was wrong about her father and there was another killer out there, then mayhap her father was correct in locking her away.
But Tristan still thought she deserved to be free. He was going to kick open the gates and spread some light on the matter. The truth would be discovered, and Rose would be safe, one way or another.
“The Governor of Dundrennan blamed my father for his son’s death when the young man was killed on a hunting expedition with my father and his guardsmen. Also, I was told the Governor of Caerlaverock hated the Callanach family because Uncle Richard married a woman he claims to have loved first.”
“Good reasons to want a man dead,” Tristan muttered. They could be one of the men who’d paid him. “How did yer father feel aboot yer mother?”
“He loved her very much and mourned her when she died.”
Tristan couldn’t imagine the pain of loving his wife and someone taking her life. If anyone tried to kill Rose, he would tear them—she wasn’t his wife. She was a lass he’d saved. Still, he’d make a slow end of the bastard. In fact, he was going after whoever burned her house and killed her mother. The threat to her life would end.
“Dinna hate me just yet, Rose.”
“I do not wish to hate you at all,” she told him. “But I will not let you kill my father.”
He looked away. What if the earl was guilty? What would he do then?
Chapter Nine
Rose didn’t know what to do. What kind of wicked soul was she to care for a man who had been sent to kill her father?
Oh, how could it be all over with Tristan before it even began? Dear God, he was going to kill her father. It kept washing over her like ice cold waves on a roiling sea. After trying to talk him out of killing Walters, she knew he was strong-minded. Being there when he killed the governor convinced her that he was merciless.
How was she going to stop him?
They stopped to eat in silence and continued onward for another hour with little conversation.
Who was the man who’d paid to have her father killed? Would this hell ever end? She couldn’t help herself and began to cry. If men didn’t kill, the skin on her legs would be smooth, she would have her mother, poor Jonetta would be alive, and Rose would not have lost her freedom for safety.
“Lass?”
She didn’t want to speak to Tristan. He was one of them. A killer. One of the deadlier ones. His name alone had frightened her attackers before he killed all twelve of them.
“Rose, I dinna know what I can truthfully tell ye.” He came close on his mount and they both slowed to a stroll.
“Aye,” she looked up at him with eyes like glistening coals, “you are not in the comforting business, are you, Tristan?”
She thought she saw regret flash across his stormy gaze before his lips settled into a natural pout and dark shadows hovered over his eyes.
“The men I kill show no mercy to others.”
“But my father showed me mercy when he risked his own life and found me in the flames and then kept me safe after my mother was killed and burned. If you care for me at all, Tristan, and I think you do, then let all he has done for me matter to you. He is my father and I will never forgive you if you hurt him.”
He didn’t answer and she turned her gaze away from him. Perhaps she was incorrect, and he didn’t care for her. What in the blazes did she know about matters of the heart? “Are all Highlanders as stubborn as you?”
“Aye, all the ones I know.”
She almost smiled but she didn’t feel like smiling. She wasn’t sure if she would ever again.
Why did such a perfect man have to be a killer?
“I do not want you to bring me to the castle. I will not have my father come running out to greet me only to be murdered by you.”
“Rose.” He sounded annoyed. “How many times d’ye want me to tell ye, I willna kill him if he is innocent.”
“And who is to declare him so? You?”
“Aye, me. Since I am the one sent to kill him. His life is in my hands.”
“His life is in God’s hands,” she corrected him. “Or do you think you are He?”
He smiled, and though it was a mocking gesture, she would have sworn before the king that he was otherworldly.
“Tell me when we are close,” she requested, letting him know she didn’t wish to speak with him.
“I will escort ye to the door, and I will meet him,” he told her, staring at her with eyes as ruthless as when he looked at Walters. She wasn’t going to change his mind.
She had to try. She didn’t want him near her father.
“You said you would find the truth. How do you intend to do that?” she put to him.
He lifted his dark brows, and his entire expression shifted in an instant. “Help me.”
She was certain he could hear her heart beating, clanging in his ears. “You would accuse me of favoritism.”
“I wouldna expect anythin’ other than that from ye. He is yer father. I will sift oot the facts.”
She was tempted to smile at him, but this was her father’s life they were talking about. Then again, because it was her father’s life, she knew she could convince Tristan of his innocence.
“Tell me how I can help.”
“I dinna know. Tell me aboot him. About yer life with him, and…why did Jonetta go with yer mother?”
“I do not know. I never asked,” she told him.
“What d’ye remember aboot the night of the fire?”
“Not too much. My father was away in Heathhall. I
