let them both know. “He thinks I’m helpin’ my cousin rebuild the life of a small village in England.”
Rose heard the regret in his voice. She wanted to talk to him about it, and about her uncle being involved in all this, but they were already approaching another campsite and she wanted to speak to her father first.
Rose’s gaze fell on her friends, the captain and his wife, and then her heart leaped within her. Her gaze moved over a hooded figure. Was it—?
He turned at hearing the riders and his hood fell back when he leaped to his feet and ran to her.
“Father!” she rejoiced, seeing him. Did Tristan save him, too? She jumped from Perceval and collided in her father’s arms. “I was so frightened for you,” she cried then pulled back. “Look! Tristan has captured Neill! Do you remember Neill, Father? ’Twas him all along. ’Twas Neill! The monster’s reign of terror is over.” Already a prick hooked her guts. She had to tell him about his brother.
“I was so frightened for you also, Daughter. Neill is mad. He went mad years ago. I had to keep him out.”
“Then you know he killed mother?”
His gaze flicked to Tristan. She turned to Tristan to see if he had anything to say. He didn’t. He kept his eyes on the earl.
“I feared it,” her father admitted, looking away, “because they were burned, and I had asked Neill to follow your mother.”
Her eyes filled with tears. “Why?”
He told her about Neill suspecting her mother of adultery. Aye, Neill had tried to tell her the same story. She didn’t want to hear it from him or from her father.
“And you believed him.” It was not a question, but more of an accusation.
“I was not—”
“You had Neill follow her. You did not believe her.”
“I was mistaken not to believe her,” her father said with sadness straining his voice. “It cost her her life. I did not want to make the same error with you.”
She narrowed her eyes on him. “What do you mean?”
He gave her the slightest of smiles. “On your word, I put all my hope in Tristan MacPherson. Imagine that. He said he could bring you back and I believed him.” He turned to Tristan. “Thank you, yet again.”
“Aye,” Rose agreed. “I feel the same way.”
Tristan winked at her over the firelight and her knees turned to honey.
“Now,” her father said, circling Neill. “What am I to do with him?”
“I saved him fer ye to kill,” Tristan told him. “Ye lost almost as much as Rose did at his hands.”
Rose tossed him a scowl that she was sure he could see over the crackling wood and glowing flames. “Then why am I not being given the chance to decide what I want to do with him? He burned me and scarred my body. He killed my mother and robbed me of my freedom.”
None of them said a word. Her father, her friends had never heard her use these kinds of words. Tristan thought about leaping into a tree when she turned to him.
“I didna think ye wanted to kill a man, lass.”
“You thought incorrectly.” She marched to where Neill lie and stood over his body. Tristan began walking toward her but she bent and yanked Neill’s sword from its sheath.
“Rose,” Tristan held up his hand. “Ye canna come back from this.”
She held the hilt in both hands and lifted the sword over her head, blade pointing down.
“Dinna do it,” Tristan said softly, cautiously, “Twill haunt ye more than what he ever did to ye. If ye kill him, he will always live, here.” She glanced at him to see him pointing to his temple.
She shook her head. “You kill others for a living, and you mean to tell me not to kill the monster that has taken so much from me? From my father?”
“Ye reminded me that God is the judge. Does that not include fer ye?”
She held the sword until her arms shook. Finally, she dropped it on his chest and burst into tears.
Tristan and her father went to her. “There is something I must tell you, Father,” she wept, looking at him. Oh, the weight of it was too heavy. She couldn’t carry it alone. Her father had to be told the truth so that he could be safe. “He did not execute this alone. He had help.”
Not a sound was heard save the snapping twigs in the fire.
“What are you saying?” her father finally asked, as if