Tempest Heart - Paula Quinn Page 0,35
warm, dark eyes that would haunt him for the rest of his days? Her sweet, sultry smiles that made him want to ask her permission before he tore off her clothes. He was lost. He was lost to his next target’s daughter.
He closed his eyes for a moment, to gather his wits and give himself respite from her maddening effect on him. Who was it that paid him four hundred pounds to kill the earl? He had to find out. They were wrong about the earl killing his daughter. Mayhap they were wrong about the earl killing his wife. Would he truly hold off on killing the earl for her sake?
As he said. Maddening. He hadn’t been paid to decide someone’s guilt or innocence. He’d been paid to kill. What if, after being paid, he decided his victims weren’t guilty and he didn’t kill them? Everyone would ask. His name would be ruined.
He opened his eyes and found her watching him. He thought of the only reason there was to smile, that she hadn’t pushed her way out of his arms. “Good morn,” he greeted, though the sun wouldn’t be fully up for another hour. “How are ye feelin’?”
“Better that I ask you how you are feeling. You look green.”
“’Tis the predawn light.”
“’Tis your thoughts, Tristan,” she insisted. “You are having second thoughts about your promise.”
He laughed, but it sounded empty to his ears. He pulled is arms free and sat up. “Nae. I am not. But I was thinkin’ of my promise to the man who paid me.”
She sat up next to him. “My father will pay you more.”
“I willna be bought, lass.”
She stared into his eyes for a moment and then rose to her feet. “I’m not hungry. I just want to go home.”
“We didna have any tea last eve,” Tristan said, standing and bringing his blanket with him.
“We will have it later.” She disappeared behind a tree. “I want to keep moving.”
Aye. He understood quite clearly. She couldn’t wait to be away from him. If she said it one more time, he’d hunt down some sticks and kindling and build a roaring fire for tea.
He poured water over the small fire still burning. He folded his blanket then tossed it over his saddle and watched her as she reappeared. Then he took his turn behind a tree.
They had about half a day’s journey left before they reached Callanach Castle. They would have been there already if they hadn’t stopped and slept. He didn’t want to spend the few hours they had left fighting with her. But when he returned to her, he realized it was already too late. She offered him no smile when he helped her mount.
She was angry that he wasn’t swearing not to kill her father, innocent or guilty. But dammit, he had to protect his name, or he’d be penniless in a year. No one wanted a judge when they paid for an executioner. What he’d saved would be gone. He knew no trade.
He used some water to clean his hands and offered some to her. He reached into his bag and pulled out two apples while she dried her hands on her skirt. He tossed one of the apples to her and mounted his horse in a single leap.
He could go home. He looked at her. Could he take her with him?
Did he love Lady Rose Callanach? If he did, he was doomed if he killed her father.
“How long until—”
He grounded his teeth. “Soon,” he said and rode away.
“Tristan!” she called to him.
His name on her lips made him stop his horse and wait for her. When she reached him, she glared at him.
“You have no right to be angry with me!”
He gave her glare a dull response. “D’ye think I enjoy hearin’ how ye canna wait to be away from me?”
Was that a smile he saw lurking about her lips?
“I dinna see the humor in this,” he told her, all nonchalance gone.
She brought her hand up to her growing smile.
“It pricks me in my guts, Rose,” he explained, in case she didn’t understand.
“Your guts?” she asked, looking at him as if he’d cut himself open and spilled them before her.
“Aye, this is where it hurts.” He pressed his palm to his flat belly. “Not here.” He held his hand to his heart.
“Oh,” she said on a soft breath. “Well, ’tisn’t that I wish to be away from you. ’Tis everything else.”
He nodded. He was sure he appeared as miserable as he