by Lily Baldwin
“And I was surprised by a sudden storm. The wind split the mast, rendering me unconscious. When I awoke, I was onboard the Messenger.”
“Stop right there,” Ian said to Rose before turning to Tristan. “Now, ye may speak.”
Tristan’s face was composed as he began. “I am a merchant. Having finished my route through the Isles, my crew set our course for Cardiff, when we happened upon your sister drifting on the remains of a boat. She was feverish, near death, in fact. After three days, her fever broke, and she awoke.”
“Did ye wait a day until ye married her?” Ian barked.
“Ian, he’s telling ye how he saved my life and ye’re yelling at him,” Rose interjected.
“Ye could only have known each other a few days. And now ye’re married.”
Tristan cleared his throat. “In a manner of speaking.”
“What is that supposed to mean?” Ian snapped.
Rose put her hand in Tristan’s. “We fell in love, Ian. ‘Tis as simple as that. Now stop being such an arse. Tristan Thatcher is a good man.
Ian stiffened, his eyes wide. “Are ye Commodore Thatcher?”
Tristan nodded. “Now that my father has retired, I am Commodore Thatcher, but I still prefer the title of captain.”
Ian smiled. “Why didn’t ye say so in the first place. I’m acquainted with Captain Bellerose. My brother, Quinn, sailed several voyages with the good captain. He advised me to seek ye out, if ever I wanted my own contract. He speaks very highly of ye and yer family. In fact, I believe ye know our very dear friend, Abbot Matthew.”
“I am indeed acquainted with the good abbot. I had the pleasure of meeting him in Berwick some years ago. Nearly ten now that I think on it. He had several messages for me to deliver in London.” Tristan offered Ian his hand, which he accepted straightaway.
As they shook hands, Tristan continued, “Rose has spoken of your interest in becoming a merchant.”
Ian nodded. “Indeed. We MacVies have long been sailors and fisherman. I am saving for a ship.”
“You will be happy to know that I already promised to replace the ship Rose lost—the one you built for her.”
Ian smiled. “That must please her, no doubt. Rose has always loved the sea. A wee skiff is just the—”
“He’s giving me the Messenger, Ian,” Rose said, interrupting. “’Tis a cog, the best in his fleet.”
Ian’s eyes lit up. “A cog! But…I…” His face beamed. “I cannot believe it. A cog!”
At that moment, Ramsay stood. “I’m sorry to break up yer reunion, but, Ian, ‘tis getting late.”
Immediately, Ian’s face grew serious. “Aye. Ye’re right.” He turned to Rose. “Forgive me. I must go. Ye understand, right?”
She nodded. Of course she did. He was in London for a purpose. Scotland needed him.
“Ye go ahead.” She raised her arms, and he scooped her into a hug. “Just ye be careful,” she whispered.
He nodded and smiled down at her. “Will ye meet me here at noon in two days’ time. I wish to see ye before ye sail home.”
She nodded. “I’ll be here. I promise.”
Ian kissed her on the cheek before he turned to Tristan. “Remember, I am one of five brothers. The others aren’t as nice as me.”
Kissing Rose on the cheek once more, he turned and followed Ramsay out the door.
Rose smiled at Tristan. “Well, now ye’ve met my youngest brother.”
Taking her hand, he leaned back in his chair and pulled her onto his lap. “That wasn’t too bad. He only tried to slit my throat.”
She laughed. “He was just trying to scare ye. MacVies aren’t murderers.”
Tristan cocked at brow at her. “Well, that’s comforting.” He wrapped his arms around her waist. “I have to ask, Rose. Why did you tell your brother that you set sail from Colonsay and not Jura?”
Her brows drew together. “Did I say that?”
He nodded. “You did.”
She winced. “I wasn’t perfectly honest when we first met, but in my defense, you were a stranger. Not knowing what sort of man you were, I didn’t want to tell you exactly where I lived. Just near enough so that after ye dropped me off, I could make my own way home.”
“That I can understand.” But, despite his apparent lack of concern, his brow furrowed.
“What is wrong then?” she asked.
“We have a problem. Now, it is not just my family who believes we are married.”
She touched her fingertips to her lips. “Ye’re right.” She groaned and rested her head on his shoulder. “Things just got even more complicated, didn’t they?”
“Aye, they did,” he said, imitating her accent. He pulled her close. “Aye, they did.”
Chapter Twenty Five
Tristan left his white horse with Darby and walked hand in hand with Rose through the courtyard of the Thatcher fortress. Just as he lifted his foot to mount the first step, Rose stopped and gripped his hand tighter. “I don’t know if I can go back in there. I can’t face Iris.”
Her outburst mirrored his own reluctance. He turned and cupped her cheek, bringing his forehead down to hers. “Then I will take ye to my own house in town, and in a few days, we sail for Scotland.”
Tears stung her eyes. “But I don’t want that either, Tristan.” Her voice cracked. “I will miss you terribly.”
He pulled away just enough to look hard into her eyes. “Do not speak as if all this is over. This is not goodbye,” he vowed.
She buried her face in his neck.
He stroked his hand down her hair. “I prayed to the sea for an answer,” he rasped. “And it sent you to me on a wave.”
She pulled back and looked up into his amber eyes. “I dreamt once, when I was just a wee lass, that love would come to me from the sea.”
He froze, his lips a breath from hers. “Love?” he whispered. His heart pounded. “Do you love me, Rose?”
~ * ~
Rose opened her mouth to answer, but then the door to the hall flew open and Elizabeth burst upon them. “Oh, Tristan and Rose, mother and I have had such a wonderful idea! Please come inside.”
Elizabeth stepped quickly down the stairs and hooked arms with Rose, pulling her toward the doors. Rose glanced back at Tristan, her confession of truest love unspoken on her lips.
“It was really my idea,” Elizabeth said excitedly. “And I made certain Darby watched for you to alert us of your return so that I could tell you as soon as possible. I can scarcely hold it in.”
Rose lifted the hem of her tunic with her free hand as Elizabeth nigh sprinted toward the family solar, pulling Rose behind.
“Calm yourself, dear sister,” Tristan called out. “You are liable to trip and send Rose sprawling to the ground.”
Elizabeth dropped Rose’s arm just outside the solar and burst through the door. “They are here!”
Rose stopped and turned, reaching to take Tristan’s hand. “What is going on?” she hissed.
He lifted his shoulders. “I have no idea.”
Iris and Owen stood, when Rose and Tristan entered.
“Have you told them?” Iris said quickly to Elizabeth.
Elizabeth shook her head. “It nearly killed me, but I held my tongue just like you asked.”
Iris smiled. “Good girl.” Then she turned and looked at Tristan and Rose and motioned to the chairs near the hearth. “Do sit down. Your father and I have something we would like to propose.”
Rose groaned inside. She wasn’t sure her heart could handle another proposal.
Owen smiled at Rose as he sat in the chair across from hers. “I wish to apologize. I did not give you a very warm welcome.”
Rose shook her head. “Nay, Commodore Thatcher, ye needn’t—”
“What? Apologize?” he said, interrupting her. “On the contrary, I must, but that is only the beginning of what I must say to you. But first, if I might digress—please call me Father, or if it suits you, you may call me Papa like Elizabeth.” Owen’s eyes glinted as
he held her gaze expectantly.
She gripped the arms of her chair, guilt twisting her stomach.
“Will ye do that for me?” Owen asked.
She nodded. “I will, Commodore.”
“Commodore? Who is that?” he said with a wink.
Her face warmed. “I meant…Papa.” The word tore through her heart. How she hated to lie to him.
Tristan squeezed her hand before he started to stand. “We’ve had a very long day. Perhaps whatever you wish to tell us can wait until the morning? Rose is tired and—”
“No!” Elizabeth burst out. Her hand flew in front of her mouth. She blushed pink to match her tunic. “Forgive my outburst. I just could never sleep if we waited,” she said, nigh bouncing out of her chair.
Iris cleared her throat. “Please sit back down, Tristan.”
Tristan looked at Rose with apologetic eyes before reclaiming his seat.
Iris scooted to the front of her chair, her face beaming. “What Elizabeth is desperately trying not to say…is that—”
“We have all come to admire you, Rose,” Tristan’s father said, interrupting. “We wish to apologize for our cold welcome.” Owen shifted his gaze to his son. “I never should have betrothed you to that woman. I was blinded by ambition. Rose has more worth in her small finger than the whole Roxwell bloodline.”
“I accept your apology,” Tristan said, standing. He bowed to his father. “Thank you.” Then he reached for Rose. “And now, we really must retire.”
“No,” Elizabeth screeched. “We’re not done!”
“The one regret we have,” Iris began, “is that we were not able to be present on your wedding day.”
“And we were thinking,” Tristan’s father said, taking over, “since you were married at sea that—”
“That we could throw you a proper wedding and have it solemnized at church,” Elizabeth blurted, then fell back into her seat, breathless.
Rose froze.
Tristan froze.
Iris’s gaze darted from one dazed face to the other. “Well, aren’t either of you going to say anything?”
Rose could barely draw breath.
Tristan cleared his throat. “You would like to have our marriage blessed by the church?”
“Precisely,” Owen boomed happily.
Rose’s mind started to spin and her heart pound. It was one thing to pretend to be married for a few short weeks to protect Tristan and his father. It was just a wee lie with the best intentions at heart. But to have their false union blessed by God and all the saints at church! That was blasphemy! That meant damnation!
Rose jumped to her feet. “Mistress and Commodore Thatcher, there is something I must confess.”
“Rose,” Tristan said behind her.
She didn’t turn. “Nay, Tristan. The time has come.”
“Yes,” he said softly. “The time has come.”
She turned around and gasped. Tristan was on one knee. Her heart lodged in her throat. He reached out and held her hands. “Rose,” he began, his eye shining with warmth. “Will you marry me, Rose…truly.”
Her hand flew to her heart. “Truly?” she whispered.
A slow smile curved his lips. “With all my heart, I ask you to be mine.”
Tears stung her eyes. She threw her arms around his neck. “Aye! I will marry ye, Tristan.” She pulled away and cupped his cheeks. “I love ye so dearly.”
“I love you,” he said. Then his lips seized hers, filling her once empty heart to the brim.
Elizabeth jumped up and down, clapping. “This is so wonderful. It is almost like being there when he first proposed to you, Rose.”
Tristan’s lips pulled a breath away from hers. “This proposal was even better,” he said, smiling.
Rose threw her arms around his neck. “So much better,” she squealed.
Chapter Twenty Six
Rose stood in the middle of her chamber while Iris fitted a long, cream-colored lace veil over her unbound curls.
Elizabeth clasped her hands together as a dreamy smile spread over lips. “Rose, you look beautiful.”
Iris circled around Rose and smiled. “You are, indeed, lovely.”
Rose smoothed her hands down her new turquoise tunic. She had picked out the color knowing Tristan favored the watery blue on her. Silver beaded slippers peeked out beneath the hem of her butter yellow kirtle.
Rose fidgeted with her hands as she considered the fine garments. “Ye don’t think ‘tis all a bit much?”
“On the contrary, I wish you would wear one of my bejeweled headdresses, or an amulet to adorn the neckline.”
Rose shook her head. “I ken I may appear plain to yer eyes, but I’m not accustomed to such finery.”
A soft rapping on the door drew all their gazes. A moment later, Betsy appeared, her face flushed with excitement. “Darby has brought your horses to the courtyard. ’Tis time to head to the church.”
Rose gripped her fists to hide her shaking hands. Her stomach fluttered. Her heart raced. It was time to go to church. She was marrying Tristan Thatcher—for real this time.
“Rose, you’re suddenly so pale,” Iris exclaimed, wrapping her arm around Rose’s shoulders. “I didn’t mean to make you fret over your simple veil. Truly, you look lovely. You’ve naught to be nervous about.”
Except that I’m getting married!
Of course, Iris couldn’t know the real reason for Rose’s nerves. If she were a new bride, then Rose’s pale complexion or racing heart would not just be readily understood, it would be expected. But as far as Iris and Elizabeth knew, Rose and Tristan were already wed.
Rose took a deep breath. “Thank ye, Iris,” she said, pressing a kiss to her mother-in-law’s cheek. Then she reached for Elizabeth and pulled her into a tight embrace. “And thank ye, sweetling.”
Elizabeth squealed as she hugged Rose close. “Sisters! We are sisters.”
This time, the mention of sisterhood didn’t cause Rose to cringe with guilt. Instead her heart flooded with warmth. She smiled down at Elizabeth. “Aye, we are sisters.”
“Come along now,” Iris said, crossing the room to the open door. “Let us not keep the men waiting.”
With her new mother on her left and her new sister on her right, Rose stepped out into the courtyard and gasped. Three large white horses with stunning cream-colored manes knickered and stomped at the ground, impatient to be on their way. And standing by one was Davy.
Rose beamed at him. “Davy, whatever are ye doing here?”
Davy bowed low at the waist. When he stood straight, his smile stretched from ear to ear. “Captain’s orders. He said you’re not as comfortable on horseback as you are climbing the rigging.” He offered her his hand. “I’m here to take you to church.”
He led her over to one of the horses. Crouching down, he wove his fingers together. Rose gripped the saddle and placed her foot in Davy’s hand. He lifted her onto the horse, then swung up behind her, his arms encircling her waist.
“Do ye have to hold me so tight?” Rose asked.
“No,” Davy answered, but his hold around her waist didn’t loosen.
“Davy,” Rose said, a hint of scolding in her voice.
“These scrawny arms have dreamt of holding ye,” he confessed.
Rose laughed. “Ye ken I’m closer to yer mum’s age than yers.”
He shrugged. “I like to hold my mum tight, too.”
She threw her head back with laughter. “All right then, Davy, take me to church.”
He nudged the horse’s flanks. They trotted through the gate and down the road toward the heart of the city. Stone homes with slate roofs and large courtyards lined the roadside. But the closer they drew to the wharf the smaller and more numerous the buildings became, many made from wood with thatch roofs. The roads narrowed and twisted in a maze, teeming with wagons, horses, vendors, children racing, and page boys delivering messages. The din and crowds made Rose long for her island home.
She was relieved
when Davy reined in their horse in front of a lovely stone kirk. He hopped down and beamed up at her as he helped her to her feet.
“Thank ye, Davy,” she said and pressed a kiss to his cheek.
His ears turned red. “Thank you,” he said wistfully. Then he took her arm and escorted her up the stairs. When she neared the landing, the large wooden doors swung wide. Ian stood in the doorway in a fine tunic with his long red hair pulled away from his face. Straightaway, he stepped forward and swept her into his arms. He squeezed her tight, and when he set her down, his bright blue eyes warmed her heart.
“When I went to meet ye yesterday, Moira gave me yer message.”
“I’m sorry I couldn’t go myself, but we’ve all been scrambling to make arrangements for today.”
“Look at ye,” he said, holding her arms out. “Ye’re beautiful. I cannot tell ye how happy I am for ye.”
She took a deep breath and smiled. “I hope Jack will come to share in our joy. He’ll be furious with me for leaving the way I did.”
Ian nodded. “Aye, he will, but when ye return home in one piece, he’ll forgive ye in no time at all.” He shrugged. “Anyway, how often have ye been left behind, while we’ve set out.”
Rose stood straighter. “That is true. For years, I’ve been fretting after all of ye.”
The gentle clearing of a throat behind them drew Rose’s gaze. She turned to find Iris and Elizabeth smiling up at them expectantly from the foot of the stairs. Rose motioned to the large, red-haired man. “This is my youngest brother, Ian.”
Iris climbed the steps. “We were delighted to hear of Rose having family in town. I am Tristan’s stepmother, Iris.” Then she turned to Elizabeth who followed just behind her. “And this is my daughter, Elizabeth.”
Ian bowed low to Tristan’s sister. “’Tis a pleasure to meet ye,” he said.
Elizabeth blushed a lovely pink and dipped in a curtsy, but she did not return Ian’s greeting. Rose had to swallow her laughter. For the first time since Rose met her, Elizabeth appeared tongue-tied.
“Here you are,” Owen said, appearing in the doorway. He strode over to Rose and clasped her hands. “You are a vision,” he said before wrapping her in a warm embrace. “Every day I thank God that my son has more sense than I.”