Everything would have happened differently if she hadn’t wanted to go to Emma’s home for the winter, if she hadn’t gotten the plague and met Tristan.
She wanted to weep for the fallen soldiers, and she had wept for them, but she wasn’t sorry for wanting time away from Callanach Castle.
She reached her chamber door and stepped inside. It was as if she had never left. Then she remembered that she hadn’t been gone long.
She went to her bed and sat on it, suddenly exhausted.
Was Tristan still alive? She realized the only way she would know if he lived or died was if he came here.
She didn’t remember when she began crying, or how long she’d been at it when she fell asleep.
She slept as if she’d been hit with a large stone and didn’t awaken until the next morning, when someone gave her a gentle shake. “Wake up, my lady. Wake up.”
Rose opened her eyes and smiled at one of her maids. “Good morning, Alana. I thought you had all left.”
“Aye, some did. They are all afraid of that Tristan MacPherson,” the maid said with disgust. “I returned when I heard you had come home.”
“Brave Alana,” Rose gushed over her as she sat up, “do not be afraid of Tristan. He will not hurt you.”
Alana studied her for a moment and then a crimson streak colored her cheeks and her dark blue eyes grew hard. “You speak softly about the man coming to kill your father.”
“I…I did not know his mission until just a few days ago. I was able to talk him out of killing my father. When and if he comes here, we will speak about my mother’s death and my father will prove his innocence.”
“Again,” Alana murmured.
Rose opened her mouth to try to explain, but Alana cut her off. “’Tis true then, you have feelings for him?”
“You spoke to the captain then.” It wasn’t a question. There was no other way in the world Alana could interpret such a thing in so little time with her.
“No.”
But how? Was she so transparent?
“Alana, I—”
“I will bring you a fresh gown and then help you prepare to see your father. He has been up with the sun awaiting you.”
Rose nodded and watched the maid enter the smaller part of the chambers to go through her gowns. Alana had been in the Callanach family’s service for over thirty years. Her loyalty to the earl was understandable. Her dislike for Rose was not. It was as if she blamed Rose for not being born a male. Who would take the castle when the earl died?
Rose forgave her but wrung her hands in front of her. Oddly enough, it wasn’t her father who made her nerves as tight as harp strings. It was the memory of being home—a place her father had meant to be her safe haven—but others had made into a house of thorns.
She sat on her bed as clarity overwhelmed her. She’d been so lonely here because of the servants and soldiers, only a few people ever spoke to her. Captain Harper was, of course, one of them. His wife, Mary, was another. Jonathon Jones, next under the captain was friendly to her, but his wife did not like her. Out of ten servants, four were kind to her. Donella and Morven, both over forty, Grainne, over sixty, and Steven the stableman. Whether they liked her or not, they had little time to speak to her, especially about things she found of interest at fourteen, or sixteen, or eighteen, or twenty.
Before that, she had Neill and sometimes Jonetta.
She thought she was in love with Neill twice, and with Captain Harper once while growing into a woman. The castle priest, Father Benedict, had reminded her that Neill was a servant and the captain was wed. He told her to confess to the captain’s wife and gave her penance for having such notions.
And she was ashamed of them, for she loved Mary. She’d done what the priest had told her and confessed to Mary. And ’twas Mary who had helped her realize that what she was feeling was normal in her circumstance. The captain was handsome and kind, and he spent time with her.
He was her friend, but Rose knew she wasn’t in love with him, for all her girlish fancies left her as soon as she wished them to be gone.
Not so with Tristan. How many times had she wished for what she’d felt for him to disappear? He was a killer. He was hired to kill her father. It was wrong to love him. She felt the weight of it now more than ever. No one here was going to want to hear a word about how she could change Tristan’s mind.
She prayed that he lived, but if he came here, only chaos would ensue. Rose wasn’t sure who would come out alive, but some would die. It terrified her.
But she still wanted to know that he lived.
She loved her father, but she didn’t want to stay here. She didn’t like it here. She tried to like it. She told herself that she did. She pretended in order to please her father.
But she didn’t want to be here anymore. As dangerous as the world outside these gates was, she would rather live out her life out there.
With Tristan.
Her heart felt traitorous within her to pray that he came to Callanach Castle. It would mean he lived!
Would he come as soon as he was well and sneak in through the high windows? Would her father end up like Governor Walters?
What did Tristan care about guilt or innocence? He’d told her he would cut Walter’s throat from behind, and that was exactly what he had done. He didn’t look his victims in the eyes because
