by Lily Baldwin
At that moment, the young cabin boy appeared with a tray piled high with cuts of meat and slabs of bread smothered in butter. The boy first visited the captain’s table.
“Thank ye, Simon,” she said after he set three large strips of meat and two pieces of bread on the table in front of her.
The lad blushed. “You remembered my name.”
“’Tis easy to remember as I am wearing yer hose.”
Both Simon and the captain threw their heads back with laughter.
“It looks glorious,” she said, taking up a piece of bread. She bit into it and tasted the butter and groaned, savoring the rich flavor.
“How do you celebrate this day at home?” Tristan asked before taking a sip of mead.
She smiled. “Always with a feast, of course. And then we play games and my favorite—the singing and music.”
“Would you sing for us now?”
“I would be honored to sing, but wait,” she said before downing the remainder of her drink. “All right, now I’m ready, Captain.”
“Rose?”
“Aye, Captain.”
“Please call me Tristan.”
She smiled at him. “I don’t think I should do that, Captain.”
“Why is that?”
“This is yer ship, and I, like everyone else, am under yer command. I might forget if I stop calling ye captain,” she said with a wink before she stood. The sea air twisted around her, tangling her hair, and the salty tang invigorated her senses. The sound of pipes stirred her soul. She didn’t hesitate. Her lips parted, and her voice rang out strong and clear.
~ * ~
Tristan sat straighter when Rose began her song. Her voice and the words were full and achingly beautiful. For a moment, all other sound ceased. The pipers froze, their instruments unmoving at their lips. The dancers stopped and stared. Even the wind had cut out. The rich sound of her voice was ethereal in its beauty, but somehow it was also familiar, comforting. Her song was of the Highlands and painted otherworldly pictures of that rugged land. She closed her eyes and sang with passion and conviction. Tristan sat on the edge of his seat, mesmerized.
When her song ended, she started right into another, this time a shanty that everyone knew. One of the sailors called out a whoop and cheered, and then the deck erupted into din once more. The pipers joined in, and the dancers kicked up their heels. Rose laughed, her face a picture of joy as she continued to sing. Tristan could not help but join in. He stood and took her hand from behind and whirled her around, and together they danced a reel, joining hands with some of the other crew.
Laughing, she grabbed his arm. “I must sit down before I fall down.”
He wrapped his arm around her waist and guided her back to her chair. She plunked down and refilled her cup, downing the contents. Breathless, she made a sweeping gesture with her hand. “‘Tis…a fine…ship, this.” She paused for a moment, clearly waiting for her breathing to slow. Then she continued, “What I wouldn’t do for a fine ship like this.”
Tristan looked at her curiously. “What would you want with a merchant cog?”
“I would give it to my wee brother so that he might be a great merchant.” She winked at him. “He said he would make me quarter master, although I don’t think he would find a crew willing to sail under the command of a woman.” She closed her eyes. “Captain —”
“Tristan,” he said, interrupting.
She smiled, her eyes still closed. “Captain, I think I’ve had too much mead. I’m feeling a wee bit dizzy. I will retire with yer permission.”
He stood, picked up the candle from the table, and offered her his arm. “If you will permit me, I will escort you to my quarters.”
“Thank ye,” she said, weaving her arm through his.
He looked down into her sky-blue eyes. She was spirited, intelligent, and strong. A gust of wind barreled across the deck just as they began their descent down the stairs. Her hair billowed out, the silken strands caressing his face. He closed his eyes. Not to mention beautiful. If he were ever to marry, he imagined it would be to a woman like her.
But he wasn’t betrothed to Rose.
He was promised to a selfish noblewoman.
He stopped in front of his door and raked his hand through his hair. Damn his father’s foolhardy ambition.
Rose looked up at him, her brows drawn with concern. “Yer countenance has changed,” she said cautiously. Then her eyes widened for a moment. “Ye must be missing yer quarters.” She started to back away from the door. “I really do feel so much better. I’m happy to lay my head anywhere on the ship. At home I sleep on a pallet. Give me a small portion of deck, and I will sleep like a babe.”
He smiled down at her. “Forgive me, I was deep in thought for a moment.” He reached out and squeezed her hand reassuringly. “I am very happy to give my room to you for the duration of our journey. Please do not doubt that.”
She crossed her arms over her chest. “What if I refuse?”
His smile only widened. “You have already admitted that I’m your captain.” He opened the door and motioned for her to enter. “You have your orders, quarter master, Rose.”
A smile spread across her face, flooding his chest with warmth. “Aye aye, Captain,” she said and walked into the room.
She turned about, and they locked eyes, his thoughts whirling in his mind as he took in the sight of her. He passed her the candle. He couldn’t tear his gaze away, and she held his with a quiet confidence that made his pulse race.
“Goodnight, Rose,” he said softly and dipped his head in a slight bow.
She slowly curtsied, then met his gaze once more. “Goodnight, Captain.”
He closed the door and breathed deep, his nostrils flaring.
“Have I ever steered you wrong?”
Tristan jerked around. Philip stood behind him in the doorway to his own quarters, looking at him expectantly.
“In all our years sailing together,” Philip continued, “nearly fifteen now, when have I ever been wrong?”
Tristan lifted his shoulders. “Never. It is why you’re my quarter master. You’ve never gauged a storm wrong or misjudged one of the crew’s character.”
“My plan sounds outrageous, I know—”
“Not to mention immoral,” Tristan said, interrupting.
Philip made a dismissive gesture with his hand. “God will have his turn to judge our souls, but right now I’m trying to save your life.”
“Just to be clear, you think that I should proposition Rose to pose as my wife, lie to my family—several rosaries worth of sins.”
“That is exactly what I’m suggesting you do.”
Tristan shook his head. “Rose is a woman of character. She would never agree to such a blasphemous charade.”
“She would if you made it worth her while. I have felt her hands. She has worked hard every day of her life. She is poor, Tristan, something you know nothing about, but from firsthand experience, I can tell you, her life has been hard. And there is something, too, in her eyes, a sadness.”
Tristan looked at him hard. More than once, he had seen a shadow cross Rose’s face, a fleeting sadness, there and gone in the space of a breath. “You’ve seen that, too?” Tristan asked, although he was not surprised. Philip was insightful. Little went unnoticed by the quarter master.
“You could change her fortune,” Philip said softly.
“You mean I should strike a deal with her,” Tristan said with disgust.
Philip shrugged. “Yes, you saved her life. Now, she can save yours.”
“I didn’t know I was in need of rescue.”
“Then you have not thought enough about the death sentence your father has put on your head. Think about it, Captain. You could make a difference in Rose’s life. Offer her money, offer her whatever it is she wants. Her merit is such that she deserves it.”
“Enough, Philip,” Tristan snapped. “If Rose is in need, then I will give her money or whatever else will ease her hard li
fe.”
“She does not want your charity,” Philip scoffed. “She would never accept it.”
Tristan knew Philip was right.
“I believe she has the wit and the courage to carry out my plan. And as far as sinfulness goes, mayhap this is God’s plan, not mine. You did pray to the sea for an answer, and the sea did give you Rose. That much is true.”
“Good night, Philip,” Tristan said, turning toward the stairs.
“Tristan,” Philip called.
Hearing his Christian name, he turned around in surprise.
Philip’s expression was uncharacteristically serious. “I beg you to consider this situation with your eyes fully open. Your father has erred gravely. It is up to you to save him, and the rest of us. You are facing the complete ruination of the Thatcher name. Your wealth could be seized along with your ships. What will your men do? They rely on you. What of your stepmother or your sister. What will they do when you and your father are imprisoned? Rose did not drift into your life by accident. Think about what I have said.”
Tristan’s mind raced as he mounted the stairs to the deck where he unrolled a pallet and lay down. Staring up at the star-studded sky, sleep evaded him. Images of his sister and stepmother slaving away in Baron Roxwell’s fields filled his mind. He imagined his ships captained by someone else, someone with a cruel nature like so many merchant captains. When he did at last fall asleep, his dreams were just as troubled. He stood on the forecastle, his ship barreling into a great storm. Lightning slashed the sky. The wind howled with the cries of so many who stood to suffer if he failed. He strained to reach the steering oar, but when he grabbed it, it turned into a single red rose.
Chapter Eight
Tristan stood outside his quarters, ready to knock softly on the door, but instead, he started pacing.
How had he come to be in a situation where his only foreseeable choices were to marry a cruel noblewoman, to face the ruination of all he held dear, or to ask a woman he had known for less than a week to pretend to be his new bride?
“Captain, I can hear ye pacing out there,” Rose said through the door.
He froze, his heart hammering in his chest. For twenty-five years he had sailed the tumultuous seas. He had faced attacks, negotiated with kings, and fought for the rights of merchants. But for the first time in his memory, he was nervous. How would Rose react when she heard his proposal?
He racked his brain for a different answer. There had to be another way forward.
“Damnation,” he whispered as defeat forced him to tap lightly on the slatted wood.
Rose swung the door wide. “Captain, yer going to wear a hole in the hull and sink us all to the bottom of the sea if ye keep up that pacing. What is on yer mind? Do we leave for France today?”
Tristan rubbed the back of his neck as he considered how best to answer her question. “Well, that depends on you.”
“On me?” she said. “I do not ken.”
He took a deep breath before he began. “I would like to propose…” his words trailed off. He shook his head at his own discomfort with the word ‘propose’.
He cleared his throat. “What I mean to say is that I have a proposition for you.” He motioned into the room. “Perhaps, you should sit down.”
She took a seat on his bed. Closing the door behind him, he stood awkwardly. “Before I begin, you must understand something about me.”
“Does this have anything to do with the problem that Philip mentioned I might be able to help with?”
Tristan nodded. “It does. And you may, indeed, be in a position to help, but before I go into any detail about that, allow me to first explain something.”
She looked up at him with clear, curious eyes.
What was he thinking?
He could not ask this of her. She would think him mad or a scoundrel.
Then he noticed that she still wore Simon’s hose and the oversized tunic. “Do you not like the tunic we bought you in town? Does it not fit properly?”
She smiled. “’Tis wonderful. I couldn’t love it more, but ‘tis too fine to wear every day. I would never forgive myself if I ripped it or spilled something on it.”
Her words struck his heart. The deep green tunic was made from fine wool, but wealthier women, his own sister included, would have turned their noses up at the plain garment. It was a reminder of Rose’s humble origins. Mayhap Philip was right. She might welcome the opportunity to better her life and the lives of her family.
He picked up the tunic that was folded on his desk and laid it out on the bed next to her. “It would please me if you wore it. Simon’s isn’t really suitable.”
She smoothed her hand over the soft, green fabric. “If it pleases ye, then I will change after we’ve discussed whatever is on yer mind.”
He took a deep breath. “Right. Back to the matter at hand.” He sat on the bench in front of his desk but facing out. His knees filled the space in front of the door. “You see, Rose, the morning you drifted into my life, we had made port on Skye where a missive awaited me from my father announcing that he had betrothed me to the daughter of a baron.”
She clasped her hands together. “That is wonderful. Congratulations.”
He held out his hand to curb her enthusiasm. “Permit me to add that he did this without my consent or even my knowledge.”
Her smile vanished. “But…but ye’re a grown man. Ye’re more than a grown man, in fact.”
He smiled at her reference to his age. “At five and thirty, I am certainly old enough to choose my own wife.”
Her brows drew together. “Why would yer father do this, particularly given yer distaste for nobility?”
“Ambition,” he said simply. “Regardless of my father’s success and wealth, he is ever aware of the ‘inferiority’ of his birth. My marriage into a noble family would open doors I would rather stay shut whilst my father would give his right arm to walk straight in.”
“Or, in this case, his son,” she added.
“Precisely.”
She frowned. “But this is terrible.”
“It gets worse. Precious little good could be said about Lady Roxwell’s character. She is reputed to be a cruel woman.”
Rose pressed her hand to her heart. “Captain, forgive me for saying so, but where I come from a betrothal is binding. To break it would bring shame to yer family.”
“Now you are alighting upon the true challenges of my predicament, except that, to make matters worse, my father is a commoner who has made a contract with a nobleman. If I were to refuse to honor this betrothal…well—”
Her eyes widened. “Then his very life might be forfeit,” she blurted, interrupting him.
He nodded solemnly. “The only way that I could avoid this marriage and not bring shame to my father or endanger his very life, is if the missive found me and I was already wed.”
Her brows drew together. “But ye’re not married.”
“True,” he said. “But I’ve been away this last year. Who’s to say I haven’t taken a wife.”
She stood up, bumping his knees. “Why do ye waste time here? Ye should be scouring Cardiff for an eligible bride. ‘Tis the only way.”
He held out a calming hand. “That might appear to be the case except that my new bride and her family would have to lie and say we were married before I received the message from my father, which is too risky. And as trivial as this might sound, given all that’s at stake, I do not wish to be forced into any marriage.”
She chewed her lip and stared out into space, clearly searching for a remedy to his problem. At length, she sat back down with a sigh. “I’m sorry, Captain, but I’m afraid I see no other solution.”
He took a deep breath. “According to Philip it’s not as hopeless as we might think.”
She sat straighter. “What has he proposed?”
He laughed nervously. “Funny that you should use that word…” He raked his hand through his hair.
No more hesitation.
<
br /> He looked at her dead on. “He thinks I should falsify the marriage.”
“Falsify the marriage? What is that supposed to mean?”
“As unbelievable as this might sound, Philip has suggested I take a pretend bride, and that she should be you.”
Her hand flew to her chest. “Me?”
“That is correct.”
Her eyes flashed with anger, taking him completely by surprise. She stood and thrust her finger in his face. “If ye’re asking me to be yer mistress, I suggest ye cast yer nets for another woman—I am not the one.”
“Upon my honor that is not what I meant,” he said, his hand on his heart.
Slowly, she sat back down on the bed. “Explain yerself.”
“What I propose is strictly a business arrangement, an accord between you and me. We will conduct ourselves as a married couple but without the…er…intimacy. Like actors.”
The confusion fled her face. “Or spies,” she said, her eyes now bright. “Although our pretense would not be to uncover a secret, but rather to conceal one.”
“Precisely,” he agreed.
She didn’t speak for several moments. Finally, she dropped her hands to her lap. “I don’t know what to say.”
He squatted down and took her hands. “I have considered my present circumstances from every angle. I would not support Philip’s plan if I had another.”
She took a deep breath. “I understand yer confliction. I could never marry someone I didn’t love. And yer father has placed his life in grave danger.”
“Not just his life, but my own as well. My stepmother and sister would be left to fend for themselves, not to mention what would happen to our ships and the men who rely on us for their livelihoods.” His mind was spinning, but he took a deep breath and squeezed her hands. “Despite it all, this scheme of Philip’s is fraught with risks of its own, not to mention deception. I vow to you—no harm will befall you. I will protect you with my life if need be, but do not allow the direness of my own situation to be your only guide.”
“If I did agree to help, what would happen? How long would we play the role of husband and wife?”
“Our charade would not last long. We journey to France and then London to spend a few days with my family. After that, I bring you home, and your obligation ends.”