Tristan turned and offered Jones a satisfied smirk.
Jones ignored him and spoke to the healer. “Have you seen a man and woman traveling together? The man is most likely severely injured.”
They were out scouring the land for him and Rose! How did they know? The one whose arrow had gone through him had likely seen Rose and when he returned to his lord, he was sent back out, with the rest of the earl’s guards to find her. He still didn’t know who had Rose. Jones was his only lead. He hoped the earl’s men had taken her. But he didn’t know. Jones didn’t even know.
Nel shook her head. She didn’t know much about him, but she knew he did things that could get him hanged. “The only guests we have had are this kind man here and two others, both men travelin’ from Edinburgh.”
Her gaze shifted to Tristan.
He gave her the slightest of smiles. “Forgive me for leaving at such an hour. I prefer to travel when the world is asleep.”
Her expression on him softened. “Ye left before I could pack ye some food and refreshment. It will take but a moment.”
She hurried off to prepare his provisions, leaving Tristan alone with Jones.
“I did not know that a shepherd’s purse was so heavy,” the soldier remarked, cutting his gaze to Tristan.
“I own a large flock of sheep. Three hundred head.”
Jones nodded. “Well, I will be off, then.” He started to turn away.
“Where are you headed now?” Tristan asked, stopping him.
“Back to Dumfries. I shall see if Captain Harper found them and returned to the castle.”
“Would you mind if I travel with you for a bit?” Tristan asked him with an amiable smile. This could be perfect. He could get an escort all the way to the castle. “I already paid two shepherds to tend the flock for another sennight. I will not be traveling again for years, if ever. I would like to keep going. Your quest sounds like a noble one.”
As Tristan expected, Jones looked quite pleased. “Can you fight, Shepherd? If we run into MacPherson, you will need to protect yourself.”
“Not too well, I fear.”
“Hmm.” Jones gave him a steady look. “You appear more dangerous than what you are.”
Tristan cocked his raven brow and one side of his mouth. “If he gets too close to me, I will cut out his heart. Is that what you want to hear?”
“Aye, ’tis,” Jones told him, and then laughed with him.
Nel returned with a medium-sized sack and a jug and handed them to him with a wink.
He smiled, surprised at how easy it had become to genuinely do so, now that he’d met Rose. He was almost sure her father’s men had her. She was safe at least. What was she telling whomever she was with? What would she tell her father?
He had to take her back. He thanked the healer again and bid her farewell.
He turned back to Jones, the authenticity of his smile fading. “Let us be off then.”
Tristan returned to the stable and retrieved Perceval. He mounted with a little trouble, for the pain was still rather intense if he moved in certain ways.
He kept his thoughts on what he meant to do. He would travel with Jones until they got close to the castle. He didn’t hope to be invited inside. They knew he was coming. They’d be waiting for him. One of the earl’s men shot him, so at least one of them knew what he looked like.
Could he fight five men, including the earl? No. He had to find another way.
“Who is the woman?”
“Pardon?”
Tristan kept his horse at an even pace with Jones’ while he spoke. “You asked the innkeeper’s wife about a woman traveling with a man. The man, I assume, is the infamous killer. I was wondering who—”
“Do not wonder about her,” Jones replied in a gravelly tone.
The soldier definitely spoke of Rose. No one was allowed to know the earl’s daughter had lived that fateful night. Very well, Tristan had all the information about her that Jones could give for now.
“How do you and your captain know this infamous Tristan MacPherson is close by?”
“My lord was informed that the outlaw had been hired to kill him and was on his way.”
Tristan listened and leaned over to reach for his saddlebag—not the one that the healer had given him. He pulled from it a hard, leather pouch with a small spout at the tip. He uncorked it and took a swig then handed it off the Jones.
“What is it?”
“My own special brew,” Tristan told him with a smile.
“You brew your own whisky?”
“I must stay warm in the winter months.”
“I thought you had sheep for that,” the captain laughed and drank.
Tristan didn’t. There were shepherds at the MacPherson stronghold. His cousin, Elias, was a shepherd. There was a law, a code for shepherding a flock. “I protect my flock from wolves, Jones. I do not harm them.”
“Sounds dull,” said the soldier.
Tristan had always agreed. Any kind of settled, safe lifestyle seemed dull. The thought of a woman…the same woman in his bed for the rest of his life had always been a daunting one. The truth was he had only bedded two women in his life. He couldn’t say why he’d done it. He put his passions and desires behind him on a dusty shelf along with his other emotions. Killing was a difficult beast. Being good at it was really nothing to be proud of. Could he be a good husband? Could he make a lass happy every day? What about bairns running wildly all over the heather-lined hills, laughing and—
He shook his head to clear it.
When had his desires and passions been set free?
“’Tis dreadful,” he replied to Jones. “That is why I seek a bit of adventure now.”
They shared laughter and stories, and more of Tristan’s whisky.
“Your life does not seem too exciting either, Soldier. You live behind gates until something like an
