Tempest Heart - Paula Quinn Page 0,53
believe he loves me as well. I believe he will not hurt you for my sake.”
He sat next to her and smiled. “He is a wise man, Rose. How could anyone not love you, Daughter?”
“You would be surprised, Father.”
He pulled his chair closer and took her hands in his. “Who? Do you mean my brother? Is that why he left you? Tell me everything.”
Rose shook her head. “Uncle Richard left me and the men because we were infected. He did the right thing for his family and everyone around them.”
Her father stared at her for a moment and then nodded. “Then who?”
“It does not matter.”
“It surely does!”
“Father, what will you tell Tristan about that night?”
She asked in order to change the topic. There weren’t many people left in Callanach. She didn’t want to see anyone else go.
“The truth, of course.”
Rose knew the story. He’d had to repeat it hundreds of times. “Why didn’t she take me with her?” Rose asked. “She took me with her everywhere. Why did she go alone with Jonetta?”
Her father shook his head. “She requested Jonetta. I did not question it. Should I have?”
Rose thought about it and then sighed. “I do not know. Will you just promise me not to have the men attack when he comes?”
“You are certain he will come?”
Ah, then, he hadn’t heard everything back there in the hall. He didn’t know. “Father,” she said and looked out the window again. “He is already here.”
Chapter Fifteen
Tristan came awake in silence. He moved his hand slowly and reached for a knife under his pillow.
He was too late. He felt the cold edge of a blade at his throat and Jones’ voice at his ear.
“Leave it, MacPherson.”
Tristan opened his eyes and waited for them to adjust in the dark. “Are ye one of them who doesna like her then?”
“No,” Jones defended.
“Then why would ye kill someone she loves? All I am interested in is her,” he promised.
“Why did you lie to me?”
“Oh, so if I told ye the truth, ye wouldna have fought me?”
The soldier remained quiet for a moment and then finally moved his knife away from Tristan’s neck.
Tristan closed his eyes again and breathed while Jones lit the candle on the table by the bed.
“How did you find me?”
The soldier shrugged. “I know you are wounded and would not go far.”
Damn it! He didn’t usually sleep at inns, but he had become spoiled by sleeping at Nel’s. He wanted a bed, and this is what it cost him.
“You fooled me well,” Jones grumbled. “You do not even speak the same way.”
“I have been doin’ this a long time,” Tristan told him, sitting up. He slept in his knee length breeches and nothing else. He reached for his léine. No need to let Jones see the extent of his wound. “I have learned how to get what I need.” He liked this soldier. Spending time with him wasn’t unpleasant—and he had saved Tristan’s life. “’Tis nothin’ against ye. I had to know if she was all right.”
“But I told you things about my captain. I lost his trust. I came here tonight to kill you for that.”
Tristan looked away from his tormented expression in the candlelight. “I understand. I was once a soldier and I know how important that trust is between brothers.”
“Aye,” Jones said miserably. “And now, I have found you and I still have not killed you. He will never trust me again.”
“Well, he had his opportunity and failed to kill me.”
“Aye. That is what is so odd. The captain never fails. His aim is perfect, yet he was aiming for your heart and missed.” Jones laughed, though he still looked miserable. “You must have a very dedicated guardian angel.”
Tristan was certain he did, but he remembered being shot. He’d been speaking with Rose, facing the direction from where the arrow came. The captain had a perfect shot of his heart, if that was where he was aiming. Where Tristan had been hit instead was harmless, if not for the infection.
“Does your captain have a wife?”
Jones nodded and told him her name. “Do you think he did not kill you for Rose’s sake? Because he loves her? He does. As a brother loves his baby sister. But it would have to be more than that to make him deliberately disobey Dumfries.”
Tristan didn’t know. Right now, he didn’t care. He’d been dreaming of her again. Her smile—which she usually covered with her fingers, the alluring slant of her large, dark eyes, like