Jones smiled as if he knew something no one else knew. Tristan imagined it was very difficult to keep it all caged up and quiet.
“So, someone sent a letter to your lord about MacPherson.”
“Aye.” Jones nodded and held up the pouch. “This is good stuff.”
“And then what happened?” Tristan asked him. “What did your lord do?”
“He sent the captain out to kill MacPherson. The captain returned the next day with news of MacPherson and Rose. I heard the captain telling Dumfries that his daughter was with the Highlander and that he shot MacPherson in the heart, but the Highlander seemed unhurt. He said MacPherson could have killed him, but he let him go.”
So, it was the captain who put an arrow to him. Tristan would thank him for that. Why did he just take Rose and not kill Tristan in his sickbed when the captain had the chance? Had it been something Rose had told him?
He offered Jones the pouch again and watched him drink. “Forgive me, what were you saying about the woman you are searching for?”
Jones stared at him and, for a moment, Tristan wondered if he hadn’t fed enough whisky to the oaf.
“She is the reason we locked ourselves away from the rest of the world what feels like an eternity ago. She is the earl’s life, and the earl is our captain’s closest friend.”
“So, you agreed to keep her safe for your captain’s sake?” Tristan didn’t like thinking her father’s men weren’t loyal to her.
“At first,” Jones admitted, accepting the pouch for one last swig. “But ’tis difficult not to love her. If you knew her, you would understand.”
Aye, Tristan knew her, and he did understand. It was most difficult not to love her, not to be willing to risk all for her, all his old thoughts and convictions.
“You said you were wed.”
“Aye,” Jones said, “but if I weren’t…” He let the rest trail off and smiled.
Again, Tristan didn’t. In fact, if he had all his strength, he would kill the soldier right here.
“Do all the earl’s men feel this way about her?”
“One or two resent her, especially now that we lost so many of our brothers to the pestilence because they had to escort her to Hamilton. If she never returned, they likely would not care.”
“Who feels that way about her?”
Jones spread his gaze over the upcoming trees as if he were pondering his answer before he gave it. He cut his glance to Tristan and then looked away again. “We should rest.”
Tristan nodded, only too happy to agree. The more rest he had, the deadlier he would be when he took her back.
And God help anyone who tried to stop him.
Chapter Thirteen
Rose approached the tall wooden gates of Callanach Castle and looked up. It felt odd to look at them from the outside. She couldn’t help but scowl at them. They were just as big and impenetrable from both sides.
She didn’t want to be here. Was Tristan responding well to the medicine? Would he live? She wanted to be there with him the way he’d been with her when she was so sick.
She looked up at the tower and lifted her hand to George Watley. He scowled at her and disappeared to the other side.
“He does not look pleased to see me,” she remarked.
“Of course, he is pleased,” the captain assured her. “You are our Rose and now you are home where you belong.”
“I will never be let out again.”
“Let out to what?” he asked her. “The cruel, merciless world? You have been out and what did you find? Sickness and death. A man you can never be with?”
Rose tossed the captain a hard look. He was correct, of course, but she didn’t want to hear it now. She had questioned him about his whereabouts the night her mother was killed. He told her he was with his wife.
Rose believed him. She was mad to suspect him. Captain Harper would rather give his life than hurt her father.
She heard the wooden bars being lifted on the other side of the gates. The heavy doors opened slowly, creaking against the wind. Her heart beat so hard and fast she thought she might be ill. She waited for what seemed like an eternity, and then she saw her father.
Oh, she hadn’t been sure she would ever see him again. He pulled her into his arms and wept into her hair, telling her over and over that he thought she was dead.
She wept as well, trying to speak but not knowing where to begin. He promised to hear it all later, but first, she should go freshen up and then meet him in the great hall.
Rose had to admit, freshening up sounded wonderful. Being in the castle again so soon felt a little suffocating. She’d been hoping for adventures in Hamilton. She had hoped to live in Crawford, and to love on the way back home with a man who was a merciless killer to most, but perfect to her.
How would she tell her father? Her hands shook.
She looked around for any of the servants, but everyone was gone. She would be even more alone than she was before.
On her way to her chambers, she met Jamie Cavanaugh. He came to her and looked into her eyes. “Is it true then? Only you have made it back alive?”
She looked at the thresh-covered floor. “Aye. The men gave their lives for mine.”
“Of course, they did. Anything for Rose.”
She looked at him, hating his animosity toward her. “None of us could have known the pestilence was in Crawford. I—”
“Aye. Of course,” he cut her off, gave her a forced smile, and then walked away.
Rose stood there watching him go. She didn’t know what to say, or what to do. He blamed her for the men dying. His wife had been sent away because of Tristan, along with the other wives and almost all the servants. His accusation
