Thanks to the two men Tristan and Jones had kept alive, they knew the bastard’s name who had done this and why. Neill de Caleone. Tristan remembered Rose talking about her friend, Neill. He had gone off six years ago with everyone else in her life. Was it the same man? If so, would he harm her, or not?
There was only one person with them who knew.
When they stopped to rest their horses, Jones built a fire and sat before it. There was very little food left from Nel. Tristan hadn’t thought of stopping anywhere to get some. No one had said a word to him about it. He looked around at them and wanted to smile. They wanted to find her, too. His gaze fell to Mary—and find her husband, too.
He had questions for her father and called him over to where he stood in the shadows. But Tristan wanted light to see the earl’s reactions to his questions.
“Lord,” Tristan said, leaning against a tree and holding up his flaming torch. “I wanted to speak to ye aboot Neill de Caleone. Is he the same Neill of yer daughter’s youth?”
The earl began to shake his head, but then likely thought better of deceit and nodded. “I fear so.”
“Why did ye keep this from me?” Tristan demanded quietly. He wanted to shout that he’d been a fool and this man was somehow guilty—guilty as a fox caught in a henhouse.
“I was afraid,” her father confessed.
“Only men who are guilty are afraid of justice,” Tristan said through clenched teeth.
“Then please,” her father offered with a smile that stretched his mouth into an almost macabre grin that slowly faded as he spoke. “Neill’s mother was a servant who perished when the boy was seven or eight. I made certain he had a place in my service and a sturdy roof over his head in the servants’ quarters. For years, he was welcome to everything at Callanach Castle, including his friendship to my Rose. He was extremely protective of her. From the day she was born, he was captivated by her.”
Tristan hated that Rose’s childhood friend had been mad and was responsible for everything. She likely knew it by now. Who comforted her? He prayed she was still with the captain.
As for her father, Tristan could do nothing but continue to listen. He felt it was important to do so now more than ever.
“When our home burned down—and I thank the good Lord that I arrived home when I did—it never occurred to me that Neill started the fire. Never. He would never hurt Rose. He was almost burned to death trying to find her. But he became more volatile over the years, and after he returned from a post in Wales, I began to fear him. In truth, he terrified me. He still does.”
“Why?” Tristan asked, though he knew what her father was going to say.
“Because I believe he killed my wife and her handmaiden.”
Aye. “More ye didna tell me,” Tristan growled.
“’Tis damning, I understand.”
“Aye,” Tristan agreed. “Whose idea was it to keep Rose from traveling that day with her mother?”
“Neill told me my wife loved another and was meeting him in Lockerbie. If she had Rose with her, nothing would stop her from never coming back. I did not want to lose them, so I kept Rose. My wife did not want to travel alone and asked for Jonetta instead. I…I asked Neill to follow Christina and find out who her lover was. I never told him to kill her!” He covered his face in his hands. “I live with this every day. I live with fear and guilt.”
Tristan did not comfort him and shook his head at Jones when he began to rise from his place. Jones sat back down.
“When I learned of what had befallen Christina, I was afraid Neill had done it. And because he burned them, I feared he had also set my home on fire and burned Rose. I was blind with rage and terror and shut the gates against him.
“Now, he has returned, and he has my daughter.”
“I will get her back,” Tristan said without hesitation.
“And Neill?”
“He will die by my hand.”
“What will you do with me?” her father asked.
Tristan kept his gaze on the flames of the fire. “Yer story seems believable, but there is one more thing. Why did ye want the world to think she had died?”
“That was not my plan. Neill knew she lived so why would I start such rumors that she had perished. When I learned that everyone outside the walls thought her dead, it did not matter to me. In fact, it made keeping her safe easier, so I used it. Besides, what was I to tell her, that her dearest friend was the monster she had always feared? ’Twas always about Neill.”
Tristan thought about it and nodded.
“So, you believe that I am innocent then?” the earl asked.
Mary had joined them with Jones. They were ready to leave.
“I dinna remember sayin’ that,” Tristan told him, going to the fire to help put it out.
“You would have killed me already if you did not believe it.”
Would he have? Tristan truly did not know. He didn’t think Dumfries killed his wife or set fire to his first house, but that didn’t mean Tristan trusted him.
“You could have tried to kill her to get to me,” her father told him, trying to strike up some awkward kind of conversation with him. Tristan went along for Rose’s sake.
“I dinna work that way,” Tristan replied.
“My daughter told me as much. She thinks very highly of you.”
Tristan had the mad urge to smile while he rolled up his blanket and shoved
