He waited while the heavy gate was opened, and Jones stepped inside. He scanned the surrounding area, taking note of trees and overlapping branches. He could climb up and see over the gate—see what she was doing. If he fell in his weakened condition, he would die. Oh well! What was life without some risks?
He looked up at the torchlit tower and thought about his decision to let her know he was here. She cared for him, despite who he was. He knew she did. She would want to know he was alive. Mayhap, she could prepare her father.
He waited while the sun went down, until she appeared surrounded by torchlight, like a dream come to life. She looked down at him. Could she see him? She lifted her hands to her heart. He did the same, and then he turned his horse away and rode into the darkness.
She meant too much to him. He could tell by how utterly relieved he was to see her. She was safe! It was all that mattered. He could breathe and recover—and be with her again.
But, oh, what kind of pitiful sot was he? If his men ever saw him like this—he shook his head, willing it not to happen. He didn’t recognize himself. Who was he? He didn’t care. He only cared that she was well.
He had to get inside, and he would. But first, he would rest and dream about a fair maiden locked away in a tower, with only him to save her.
And save her, he would.
Rose clung to the railing in the tower and looked out over the side to watch him leave.
When Jones had come home and told her to go to the lookout tower, she never imagined she would see Tristan below. But it was him! He was alive! Handsome and dark with blazing eyes. She was so happy to see him she didn’t realize the danger it presented. The truth of it all settled on her now though—especially when she turned to see Captain Harper coming to stand next to her.
“Who was it?” he asked. Then, when she didn’t answer, he added, “I see.”
“He left,” Rose told him. When she turned to look at him, he was gone. She saw him hurrying back inside the castle and followed him. What was he doing? Was he going to tell her father?
They met Jones on his way up on the second landing. “Did you see him?” he asked Rose with a smile.
The captain pushed her out of the way and grabbed Jones by the collar. “What did you tell him? What did he say?”
“What do you mean what did I tell him? Why would I tell him anything? He is a shepherd from the western hills. He has a romantic heart and he asked to see—”
“He is Tristan MacPherson!” the captain said through clenched teeth.
“No!” Poor Jones looked completely stunned and horrified. “He is Geraint Ward, a shep—he could not even fight!” Jones continued to argue. “I had to save him from some thieves.”
“Of course he could not fight,” Captain Harper growled. “I shot him with an arrow not very long ago and the wound became infected. He is still healing. Where did he go? What did he tell you?”
Jones seemed to be still reeling from being duped by the outlaw. The captain had to give him a shake to get him to listen. “Tell me everything he said.”
“He spoke about shepherding his flock and being lonely in the winter…or…I do not remember.”
“How could you not remember?” the captain demanded.
“He had whisky and…”
Captain Harper gave him an incredulous look. “He got you drunk.”
“No!”
“What did you tell him about the earl?”
Jones looked as if he might lose consciousness. “Nothing. He did not ask about the earl. He asked about…her. I told him nothing!” he hastened to assure the captain. “I told him we were searching for Tris—him and he asked how we knew he was near. He asked me what the earl had done about it and I told him—” he stopped and grew a sickly shade of green. “Captain, I…I told him you shot him.”
The captain took a step back. His jaw was clenched. Rose had never seen him so furious. He looked at her and she quickly tried to give him a reassuring smile. In truth, she had no idea what Tristan would do about it.
“Jones, I should throw you out, but MacPherson did not become who he is by being dull-minded. He is clever. There are tales of him finding ways into the most fortified strongholds and killing his intended victim and anyone else who got in his way.” He turned and looked at Rose with sadness coloring his eyes deeper blue. “He is intelligent and good at pretending.”
She blinked and startled just a little as if he’d struck her. “Captain Harper, I am not dull-minded either.” Her words had more snap in them than anyone was used to hearing from her.
The captain looked at his boots.
“He did not see me lying among the dead and dying and think in his mind that must be Rose Callanach, the lass everyone thinks died six years ago. I will carry her away from the bones beneath her and lay her on the clean grass.” As she spoke, her eyes burned with tears. “I doubt he told himself if she lives, I will pretend to be kind and thoughtful, valiant and generous, until she brings me to her father. He may have pretended with everyone else, Captain, but with me, he was genuine. I refuse to allow you to make me think otherwise.”
She turned to leave and saw her father standing by the solar door. She hadn’t heard it open. How much had he heard? His expression was unreadable, but his dark eyes were sharp on her.
He stepped to the side of the door and motioned her into the solar. “Come, let us share words.”
She went, drawing
