Tristan motioned for Mary to go to Rose, then said, “Captain, he is one of yer men?”
“Aye,” Harper said through clenched teeth. “Watley.”
Tristan nodded. “He is yers to bring before the—”
“I will bring him before no one,” Harper promised on a deadly growl, and wasted no time killing him.
“Who is next?” Tristan called out to Neill and the earl. He held his blade ready and motioned for them to come to him.
“I am!” Neill shouted back.
Chapter Twenty-Three
The earl stepped forward, stopping any fighting for the moment.
“As eager as I am to see you dead, MacPherson, I will give you a few more moments to live if you tell me what you just handed to my brother.”
“’Tis money I paid him to kill you,” the governor admitted boldly.
“I see,” drawled the earl. He stepped around a few dead bodies to get closer to his brother.
Rose watched him, unsure of whom she was looking at. Could this be the man who raised her? He’d been caring and protective, patient and sometimes…a bit…controlling. She couldn’t—she didn’t want to believe that he was behind it all. It was too much. It made her feel as if she were going mad.
“You sent this mongrel,” he said, pointing at Tristan.
Rose stepped forward and slapped his hand out of the way. “You and your pet monster have no place passing such judgment when you killed my mother and an innocent fifteen-year-old girl.”
Her father gave her an angry look mingled with disgust. “’Tis time you were brought to your place with that venomous tongue of yours. I have spoiled you long enough. Things will change when your lowborn Highland husband is dead, and you are free to live with Neill and me. I will find us a new place to live with bigger, stronger gates and—”
“Bigger, stronger gates?” Rose laughed hysterically. “Live with the both of you? Oh, Father,” she said, growing serious, indeed, somber, “you truly are mad.”
“Who told you about me?” Neill asked, stepping in front of her father and glaring at the governor as if he wanted to vow out loud that he would to kill him.
“It makes sense to me, Neill,” Rose told him, pulling his attention to her and soothing the fury in his eyes. “I used to love you.”
“And you love me no more?”
Boldly, she shook her head. “Not while you stand with him. Who knows who he will command you to kill next?” She shook her shoulders as if discarding a cloak and held up her head. “Put down your sword and let there be no more enmity between us.”
“I have no enmity toward you, Rose.” When he said her name, he smiled over her shoulder at Tristan.
Rose turned to look at her husband. Tristan didn’t smile back.
“Neill,” she snapped at him, “if you do not cease acting this way, I will no longer speak to you. Not ever.”
He looked worried for a moment and then he smiled. “I could convince you.”
“By forcing me to live with you? Locked away once again?” She looked at him with anger. She knew he hated it and now she knew why. He was the earl’s bastard son. Not worthy of a title, or of the respect Rose received. He’d lived with being a servant his whole life, the son of his master. She wanted to feel sorry for him, but he’d killed her mother.
“There will be no shame. ’Twill not be an intimate marriage,” he told her to ward off some of the same.
“Or a loving one,” she promised. “Now put down your sword and let this end. Look around you. You still have to fight Uncle Richard’s men, Mr. Jones, the captain, and Tristan.”
Neill began to lower his weapon—when the earl moved forward and slapped his face. “Wake up! She has you under her spell!”
Rose clenched her jaw until it hurt—until everything hurt. She cried out. Neill’s eyes on her were big and blue. “Neill, I thought you were the monster but ’twas Father for making you feel like you were not enough. That you had to please him by doing his evil deeds.”
She dared not look away at Tristan and her uncle and especially not her father. She had to make Neill believe her. She had to make him believe that she was on his side otherwise he would end up dead here today.
She’d seen Tristan fight before. She knew he was quick. But when he saved Mary a little while ago, she had barely seen him move, he was so fast. She knew he could kill Neill and her father if he chose to. Why had everything changed? Just a few hours ago, she’d almost killed Neill herself. But he wasn’t her brother before. She didn’t want her husband to kill her father or her brother—no matter how mad in the head they both were, or what they had done. She would not live with that blot on her marriage.
“Father,” she said, turning to him brokenhearted, “you have lied to me my entire life—”
“Neill, quiet her,” her father commanded.
The very fact that Neill went to her to quiet her and wore a pained look on his face as he came convinced Rose that he would obey any command her father gave over hers. She glanced at Captain Harper, her only friend, who had lied to her for the last twelve years of her life—for her father’s sake. Her gaze swept to her husband—her one truth in all of this.
He stepped in front of her—blocking her from her brother.
“D’ye think ye can beat me?” Tristan’s challenge was issued with restrained passion as he lifted his blade, gripping it in both hands.
“I know I can,” Neill answered, just as confidently.
“Come on then.” Tristan took one hand off his
