by Lily Baldwin
“Agreed,” he said, smiling. “I will step out while you dress. Join me in the hall when you’re ready.”
Tristan again paced two steps in one direction and two in the other. What if it was too soon for Rose to be out of bed? What if the salty air was too much for her weakened lungs? Just as he was about to rap on the door and suggest they wait until the morrow, the door swung wide, and Rose stepped out into the hallway. The moment their eyes locked, his concern vanished. She looked radiant. Her red hair fell in a tangle of wild curls to her waist. When she smiled up at him, soft lines crinkled at her eyes. In truth, she was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.
“’Tis a might too big,” she said, smoothing her hands over the loose tunic.
He could barely make out her slim form in Simon’s clothing. “Wait just a moment,” he said, stepping past her into his room. He opened the small trunk wedged under the bed and pulled out a soft, black belt.
“If you’ll allow me,” he said, holding up the long, woven cord.
She raised her arms, and he reached around her waist, tying the belt so that it fell gently at her hips.
“That’s better,” she said. “Thank ye.”
He offered her his arm. “If you grow too weary, we will return straightaway. But for now…” He paused to gesture to the open hatch. “The sun and sea await your gaze.”
Chapter Six
Rose was unaccustomed to feeling so weak-legged. A lifetime of toil had made her strong. But as she started up the stairs that would lead her out the hatch to the main deck, she could not help but rely on the captain’s steadying hand.
“Mayhap, it is too soon,” he said.
She drew a deep breath. “I’m almost certain it is, but at the moment, I don’t care. I need fresh air.”
She carefully climbed the last few steps. Standing on the deck, the sun beat down and she lifted her face to the warm caress. A breeze rustled through her hair. It felt glorious. After relishing her first moments above deck, she was ready to get her bearings. Her gaze scanned the large vessel.
“What sort of ship is she?”
“She’s a cog. You can tell by the single mast and square sail,” he said pointing to the massive billowing cloth. Then he gestured to the floor. “Also, the flat bottom and the high bow and stern.”
She admired the ornately carved stern and forecastles and could not wait to see the view from their heights. “The Messenger,” she said out loud, tasting it. She truly was a fine ship. Rose knew it was just the sort of ship Ian dreamed of owning one day. She imagined what it might be like if the MacVies did have a fleet of cogs. They would be fine merchants. She could picture Ian at the helm and she as quarter master.
“We can stand here if you would like, or if you are able to walk a little, I will give you the tour and introduce you to my men.” Tristan said, interrupting her daydream.
Rose was suddenly very aware that her presence had brought the activity on the ship to a standstill. At least twenty sets of eyes stared at her as she stepped forward on the captain’s arm.
“I suppose now would not be the time to start speaking in tongues,” she whispered to Tristan.
His rich laughter immediately followed her jest. “Not unless you want rumors of witch craft to spread.”
As they passed by each man, the sailors dropped their gazes to the ground, but Tristan did not falter. He continued introductions, calling her Rose from the Scottish Isles. The men all muttered responses that she guessed were how do you do or pleased to meet you, but she couldn’t be sure. They might as well have been speaking spells of protection, their words were so incomprehensible.
She was happy to climb the stairs to the stern castle, despite her fatigue, to escape the stares of the crew. Standing at the rails was a tall man, nearly as tall as her brother Jack, but unlike any of her brothers, he was very slim, his build feminine and elegant.
“Rose, allow me to introduce you to my quarter master, Philip Bellamy.”
Philip moved toward her, riding the rocking ship like an agile dancer. When he stood in front of her, he bent at the waist in a lavish bow. “Mistress Rose, it is my pleasure to at last make your acquaintance. I will not lie—I worried your fever might have stolen this great privilege away. But you are looking very well.” Then his voice dropped, and she noticed his gaze dart to Tristan, before returning to her. “Very well, indeed.”
“Thank you,” Rose said, smiling, pleased to meet someone who seemed genuinely happy to see her, unlike the rest of the crew who certainly appeared to have the words Cast her back to the devil on the tips of their tongues. Even now as she scanned the deck, suspicious eyes followed her.
Tristan must have sensed her awareness of the men. “Forgive their rudeness. They are not accustomed to having a woman on board, particularly one plucked from the sea.”
She lifted her shoulders. “No offense taken. After growing up near the docks in Berwick and spending the last few years fishing the isles with my brothers, I am very aware of men’s wariness of women on board any vessel.”
“Ah, Berwick,” Tristan said sadly. “What a fine port she used to be. Such an amazing city. Edward should be burned alive for what he did to that great place.”
“Ye freely denounce yer king?” she said with surprise.
A flash of fierceness lit Tristan’s brown eyes. “He is not my king. The only man I give fealty to is myself.”
“And your father,” Philip chimed in.
Rose didn’t miss the looks the men exchanged. Tristan did not appear glad to be reminded of his father at that moment.
“You are as lovely as the day,” Philip said, bending over her hand and pressing a kiss to her skin. “By the captain’s orders, I sent young Simon ashore just a few hours ago to buy you a more serviceable tunic and kirtle. They may not fit perfectly, but when we reach Calais, alterations can be made, if need be.”
“Please, do not trouble yerselves. I’m grateful for what ye’ve already given me,” she said, lifting the hem of her worn tunic.
Philip shook his head. “Mistress Rose, we are not barbarians. You are a guest on the Messenger and will be afforded every luxury we can provide for the duration of our journey.”
Rose felt her skin warm. She did not know how to respond to Philip’s declaration other than to bob in a quick curtsy.
“I am so pleased you are here,” Philip said warmly. “In fact, I believe your presence is just what we all needed. It is almost like destiny brought you to us.”
“Philip,” Tristan said. His tone seemed to hold a warning Rose did not understand. “Do you not have some task that needs tending to?”
A slight smile curved Philips lips before he bowed to Rose. “Duty calls,” he said. Then he turned on his heel and headed down the stairs.
Rose crossed to the railing. She stared at the sandy shore, which gradually turned into a grassy slope. “Does the river lead to Cardiff?” she asked, her gaze scanning the large watery mouth surrounding by grassland dotted with small huts.
“It does.”
“What is it like?”
“Cardiff is a fine town. In size it does not compare to other more affluent ports, but twice a year it hosts a large fair, to which merchants travel from all of Christendom.”
“Perhaps, I could go ashore?” she asked.
“I’m sorry, Rose. I hate to disappoint you, but Robert has recommended that you stay on board and keep mostly to my cabin for the next two days; that is, until your strength has returned.”
She nodded. “I admit, I feel rather weak.” Then she sighed. “Long has it been since my eyes have gazed upon a bustling port. In truth, it might make me too sad to see it.”
“You are remembering Berwick,” he said knowingly.
She nodded. “It was such a fine city.”
“Berwick was always unmatched in my mind—even to the markets in London.” He paused as a shadow crossed over his face. “I was there just the week before the attack.” He shook his head. “So many
thousands of people slaughtered.”
Rose nodded grimly. “What took countless lifetimes to build, King Edward wiped from the world in a matter of three days.”
He canted his head, still holding her gaze. “I do not wish to pry, but I feel certain you must have been there when his scores of troops arrived.”
Tears stung her eyes. “Nay, I wasn’t actually. I had left the city the morning of the attack to forage for herbs in the forest. When I returned, towers of billowing smoke stretched to the heavens. Cries of the dying rent the air for days. There was no way back inside.” Her hand rushed to her chest. “Forgive me.” She stopped and took a deep breath, blocking the images of death and sorrow from her thoughts. When she regained her composure, she continued. “I am glad ye do not give yer fealty to King Edward. As an Englishman it makes ye much more likable.”
He smiled. “That is a relief.”
“Does yer family hold with yer beliefs?” she asked.
He rubbed his chin. “My father lives in-between worlds. He has been a strong force in the merchant guild and has supported other guilds in their pursuit of fair treatment from the noble class, but he does not extend his sympathy to the common man. He still sees a place for royalty in the world; whereas, I believe it is only by merit that a man deserves reward. Nobility is something that should be earned not bestowed. Actions alone should be the measure of any man.”
Rose’s pulse quickened as he spoke. He had put words to what she had always felt in her heart, but still something was missing. “What of women?”
His eyes brightened then. “The most heroic act I have ever witnessed was carried out by a woman, a young girl actually.” He turned and leaned his back against the rail and gazed out as if seeing his memory in the distance.
Rose admired the fineness of his profile, his chiseled jawline and straight nose. His nostrils flared as he breathed deep the sea air. A flutter stirred in her chest, and for a moment, she felt like a young woman again, when the touch of a man had still been a mystery.
She restrained herself from snorting at her own thought—it had been so long since she felt the touch of a man on her body that she may as well have been a maid again.
“It must have been ten years ago now,” Tristan said, continuing with his story. “I docked in Calais, where we will be soon enough, if the winds allow. I went for a walk on my own in the countryside. Suddenly, a piercing scream filled the air. I raced across a vast meadow and came upon a sight that made my blood run cold. A young girl was stumbling, her tunic torn and bloodied, and in her arms, she clasped a puppy to her chest. As it turns out, she had thrown herself in the path of a pack of wild dogs to protect her pet. She withstood numerous bites and raking claws while her beloved friend remained unscathed. I carried her back home. And when we arrived, her mother scolded her and asked her what had made her act so foolishly. In reply, the little girl simply snuggled closer to her puppy and said, ‘I love her’. There is nothing more noble than unconditional love, love you would be willing to die for.”
She stared at him in wonder. His words had opened a world of opportunity in her mind where how well someone loved and was loved in return defined their worth—not their wealth or title. She wanted to tell him just how much he had touched her heart, but she closed her eyes against an onslaught of dizziness. She grappled at the railing for support.
“Are you all right?” he said, his arm coming around her waist.
Her hand flew to her temple. “I’m afraid I’m suddenly not feeling very well. Perhaps, I’ve been on my feet too long.”
She felt his arm come under her legs the instant before he lifted her into the air.
“Thank ye,” she said, her arm loosely circling his neck.
He carried her back to his cabin and laid her on the bed. He smiled down at her, his eyes so warm, but then his brow furrowed slightly. “Rose, may I speak my mind?”
She nodded.
“We are still at the infancy of our friendship, but with the little conversation we’ve had, I feel justified in judging you to be a sensible and shrewd woman. Why were you alone out on the water?”
She swallowed hard, then dropped her gaze. “When I set out, I wasn’t in my right mind. To be honest, I’ve not been myself for some time now.” She shook her head. “I admit it was not my most sensible moment, but…” A tightness gripped her chest as her desperation returned. A knot formed in her throat. “I have no excuse for my actions. I…I was just so…” She didn’t know what to say. He couldn’t understand unless he knew her heart, the contents of which she was not ready to share. “I wanted something to happen to me, anything,” she finally blurted.
He licked his lips, looking like he wanted to say more. Clearly, he knew her explanation was incomplete, but to her relief, he did not press her. Instead he chuckled. “Well, something certainly has happened.”
A burst of laughter rushed up her throat. “Indeed, it has.” Her gaze scanned the small room and the man smiling down at her. “Indeed, it has.”
Chapter Seven
Rose did not know how long she slept, but when she arose, she felt strong, almost like herself again. The captain’s cabin was shrouded in darkness. She lay there for some time feeling the subtle rocking of the ship. She had never been at sea in a larger vessel before. As much as she missed her family, her brothers and their dear wives, anticipation coursed through her, warming her insides. After all, she had no choice but to accept her current situation. She did not expect the good captain to turn his ship around and travel back north to the Hebrides. He had already done so much for her. She owed him and his crew her life. Not only had they dragged her nearly drowned body on board, but they had nursed her back to health. If that wasn’t enough, Captain Thatcher had quitted his cabin to afford her greater comfort and privacy.
Her mind lingered for a moment on the good captain. A smile lifted one side of her lips. She had dubbed him the ‘Good Captain’ after he carried her back to his quarters and gently laid her on his bed. Before he left, he had looked down at her with what she could only have called admiration in his gaze—as if he had assessed her character and found her worthy of reward. According to his new understanding of how people were meant to be measured, she, who had felt useless and insignificant, now had merit and purpose. It made her feel like anything was possible.
Just then her stomach growled. She lay for a while longer, debating whether to go in search of food, but then muffled notes of music reached her ears. She recognized the rhythm. Excitement churned within her. She fumbled with the covers, which had twisted around her legs while she slept. Then she stood and eased the door open. She followed the lilting sound, the pipes and whistles up the stairs. Torch fire illuminated the deck. Men were scattered about, reclining on the floor or on benches in leisurely poses, enjoying a break from the grueling work of the seafarer.
She scanned the faces and spotted the captain sitting at a table in the corner with Philip. She locked eyes with the quarter master and watched as he leaned in to say something to Tristan who turned, a smile spreading across his face as he stood and walked toward her. His movement drew the gazes of the other men. In the next instant, the music stopped, and everyone was silent. She felt their eyes on her. She stood tall, remembering she was a MacVie, despite how the stares made her want to fidget.
“Good evening, Rose,” Tristan said with a bow. “We were just giving you a little more time to rest before coming to fetch you for dinner.”
Rose could not help but smile. “Good evening, Captain Thatcher. That is good to hear because I’m famished.” On the captain’s arm, she crossed the deck toward his table. Philip stood at their approach and bade her take his chair.
She shook her head. “I couldn’t,” she said. “I’m quite happy to find my own seat.”
Philip insisted “There is much for you and the captain to discuss. In fact, he has a problem that I believe you might be able to help solve.”
Rose raised her brows in surprise, but then she nodded ea
gerly. “I am happy to help.”
Tristan lifted his brow at Philip. Rose could tell he was not pleased by Philip’s admission, and when he spoke next, she was assured of his displeasure.
“Philip,” he said sternly.
“Yes, Captain,” Philip replied, a mischievous expression on his face.
“Your presence is no longer required. Report to your room for the remainder of the night.”
Philip dipped his head to Tristan and then to Rose. “I agree. My work here is already done.” Then he turned on his heel. His long, slim legs carried him across the deck to the hatch. Then he disappeared down below.
“What was Philip talking about? If ye do, indeed, have a problem that I could somehow help with, I would be honored.”
Tristan made a dismissive gesture with his hand. “There is simply some messy business with my father that I’m trying to work through.”
“Would ye like to talk about it?” she asked.
He flashed her a bright smile. “At the moment, not in the least.” He raised his hands to his men and called loudly. “At present, I wish to fill my belly and make merry—for it is the feast of St. John the Baptist.”
The next instant, the men cheered and took up their pipes and whistles.
Above the din of music, Rose leaned close to the captain and said, “I’ve lost track of the days, it would seem.”
“One of the many hazards of being lost at sea, I suppose,” he said as he filled her mug from a steaming pitcher. “How are you feeling?”
“Amazing,” she answered. “I’m really quite well.”
He raised his cup to her. “Glad I am to hear, but let us remain cautious. Do not overtask yourself.”
“Agreed,” she said, smiling as she brought the mug to her lips. The warm brew was tinged with cinnamon. She had never tasted its equal. “This is delicious,” she said, before taking a long draught.
“Wait until you taste the dried venison. My supplier is unmatched in quality.”