The closer he came to that part of the forest, the better he could see the high treetops mingling with the branches of the trees beyond the wall. He quickly found one with branches low enough to begin his climb and high enough to reach the thick tangle. He moved as quickly, while being cautious, as he could.
It took him a good amount of time to find branches thick enough to climb across. He stopped and had to go back twice. Finally, he came to a place where the boughs were strong enough to hold his weight.
He spotted Rose down below and almost lost his footing. Slowly, he cautioned himself. He sat between two boughs and looked for her again.
He found her walking in the opposite direction. She wore dark blue or green hose and boots, with a belted shirt that reached her rounded hips. Her luxurious chestnut locks fell loose over her shoulders and picked up browns and russets and even some bronze strands. He wanted to call to her, but she was too far away.
She walked toward what looked like a well-built barn or a stable and disappeared inside. A little while later, she pushed the wide door open, disappeared again, and then came back on her horse. She straddled her saddle and leaned a bit forward and a little to the right, and then, with a flick of her reins, she took off.
Tristan watched her with her hair flapping like a pennant behind her as she rode her horse around the huge perimeter of the castle. He smiled looking at her. He couldn’t help himself, though his heart ached to be with her.
How had he let this happen?
Looking at her, her sweetly upturned face to the sun, he asked himself how he could have ever stopped it.
He loved her. Almost instinctively, he shook his head, rejecting the responsibilities of a lass in his life. Already he was giving up his reputation, his word, his livelihood for her. Living the life of a husband was no longer abhorrent to him. In fact, the thought of being her husband and the father of her babes was rather pleasant.
But his smile faded as it dawned on him where she was going.
Nowhere. She rode around in giant circle, and all around her was a wall. This was where she grew up, alone and caged for her protection. The first time she’d ventured out, she gotten the damned plague! He wanted to push open the gates and let her out, let her free. But first, he had to discover who was trying to kill her and her family. Was anyone truly out to kill the earl all these years, lighting his home on fire, lighting his carriage on fire? Or were the two incidents completely separate?
She finally slowed her horse and dismounted to walk the animal down.
Tristan repositioned himself on the branch. He looked around. He wanted to climb down and touch her, hold her. But how would he get back up into the trees? Was he ready yet to face her father? Aye, with Jones, not with the captain and two other men. He had to be patient and return to his horse. She was safe here—except if her enemy knew how to climb trees.
He wanted to call to her when she returned her horse to the stable and headed back for the castle. He found himself longing for her to look at him. To smile at him. Rose.
But she would not be happy to see him here. She was afraid for her father. She didn’t trust Tristan. Why should she? She’d seen him kill twelve men. She’d seen him murder Governor Walters and his guard. Why should she trust him to curb his bloodlust and stop killing now?
He remained silent and watched her disappear through the doorway.
He would do it for her. He would do anything for her.
He turned to move on the branch. He put too much weight down. He was distracted by her. The branch cracked.
“No,” he breathed. And fell.
Chapter Sixteen
Neill de Caleone was born to Eunice, the Callanach’s seamstress—among other things in the servants’ quarters outside the manor house of the Earl of Dumfries, Thomas Callanach.
When Neill was seventeen, he burned the house down.
He’d been unaware at the time that Rose, the earl’s wee daughter was still inside. He’d heard her screams and rushed into the flames, burning one side of his face. He found her alone and carried her out to safety—to where her father waited.
After the fire, Dumfries let Neill visit her in her temporary sickbed in the first home of her uncle, Richard Callanach.
Her legs had been severely burned. Her pain was too intense, so she was given medicine to make her sleep. She had a physician at her bedside day and night.
And Neill had been there as well, watching over her.
She had been a beautiful child, gentle in nature, with thick, chestnut waves spreading outward over her pillow, a stark contrast against her pale white skin. She had opened her eyes once while he stood watch over her bed. He smiled at her. She began to smile back but she cried out in agony instead. The physician was there to put her back to sleep.
He left soon after and traveled to Wales and France, but her large, dark eyes had haunted him for the next six years, no matter where he traveled. He wanted to be away from her so that she could not veer him from his path.
When he returned at the age of twenty-three, Neill joined her father’s guard and was immediately made second-in-command under Captain William Harper. Harper had been friendly to him and was very protective of Rose. Neill liked him for it. He’d known Harper for six years
