Chapter 51
CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE
CASSANDRA
“Is your child a restless sleeper, like you were? Always walking the halls of Redthorne alone at night.”
Her knees nearly gave way at the sound of her brother’s voice, but she remained rigid. “I—”
Nancy appeared like a wraith down the corridor to the servants’ quarters, a knife blade gleaming in her hand.
Cassandra raised a hand at Tristan. “Nancy, come take the child to the nursery.”
“Ma’am—”
“Do as I say.”
Nancy tucked the knife away in her skirts and darted to Cassandra, taking the child from her arms.
“Stay with him, lock the door. Open for no one but me, His Grace, or Morgan. Go.” Her lips pressed in a hard line as Nancy took the baby up the stairs, her loose hair and dressing gown flying behind her.
Tristan moved toward her. He was almost unrecognisable. He wore heavy, worn leather boots, trousers that were damaged with wear, a cloak that enveloped his tall frame, and a sword at his side. His gaunt face ravaged with scars, bruises, sun, and anger, and his hair long and unruly.
Only his eyes, his eyes were her brother’s, yet they were no longer inviting and warm as she remembered. Now, they were hard and opaque. He cast a heavy glance around the hall, his gaze landing back on her like a lead weight. “You chose this? Him?”
“I did. And I survived. Survived your leaving. Survived our uncles.”
His chin lifted. “Uncle Alastair told me everything.”
“When did you—”
“In Jersey. I found him. He told me all about Rowen’s betrayal, how you seduced him.
How you killed his bastard brother and probably his father besides to take it all…
” His voice shook. “And then you threw out our uncles, exiling them, and took Redthorne for yourself. And since you have lived like the harlot you truly are.”
She only laughed. Tristan stiffened, his eyes bulging.
Cold steel kissed her throat, and she blinked. “You would believe him over me?” Cassandra said quietly. “After everything we have been through together?”
The blade remained still.
“Tristan!” Rowen’s voice boomed.
Seizing Cassandra, Tristan pulled her back against his chest, his sword tight at her throat. “I will kill her.”
“It’s me you want, Tristan. You came for me.” Rowen’s eyes locked with his wife’s. “Unhand her, and I will go with you.”
Tristan thrust Cassandra aside, and she fell to the floor. In a blur of movement and curses, the two men were gone.