by Lily Baldwin
He only shook his head in response.
She bristled. “Do ye really want a mad woman on yer ship?”
“She makes a strong argument,” Philip chimed in, appearing at her side. “Mad women are messy creatures.”
The stubborn lines in Tristan’s face softened. He threw his hands up. “Help Davy, then. But you’re not to climb the rigging, and I forbid you from hoisting the anchor.”
She smiled. “Thank ye.” Then she turned on her heel and started to walk away.
“Rose,” Tristan said, drawing her gaze once more. “If any of the men look at you…well…like you’re mad, just tell them captain’s orders.”
“Aye aye, Captain,” she said with a wink. Then she hurried back to Davy’s side. After they finished storing the anchor line, she helped him clean the grit and salt off the anchor’s fluke. By then, she and Davy were fast friends. She found out that he was a Londoner and the oldest of five children. When he was just twelve years of age, his father had passed away. That was when he signed on with Tristan so that he could provide for his mother and younger siblings. This was the final leg of a two year stretch at sea.
“Ye must be aching to see yer mum and yer brothers and sisters,” Rose said.
Davy nodded, his red curls bouncing. “They give me a hero’s welcome whenever I return home.”
She smiled. “As well they should. Ye work hard caring for the ones ye love.”
“Davy, stop gawking at the captain’s wife and get to your post,” Piper called from across the deck.
Davy’s ears turned red, but his smile didn’t falter. “Up I go.” Then he turned and grabbed the rigging. His young, agile body nimbly climbed to the top. Rose stood watching with admiration as he balanced across the yard, then dropped into the nest.
“There’s room for one more,” he called down to her.
She smiled and cupped her hands around her mouth. “Are ye daft? I’d kill myself climbing up there.”
“You’ll be fine,” the lad shouted. “Don’t you want to see the world from up here.”
She smiled. “More than ye could possibly know, but that doesn’t mean I can. Anyway, Captain’s forbade me.”
“I said you couldn’t climb the rigging,” Tristan said, appearing at her side. “I never said you couldn’t go aloft.”
Smiling, she whirled around. “What are ye proposing?”
He unraveled a rope and wove it through a small iron wheel. Then he waved Piper over. Piper plodded across the deck, holding his red handkerchief.
“Aye aye, Captain,” he said as he wiped the beads of sweat off his shiny bald head.
“Take this aloft?” Tristan said, holding out the pulley and line.
Piper quickly retied the red fabric around his neck. Then, he grabbed hold of the rope and, in a flash, scrambled up the rigging and hooked the wheel through one of the iron rings along the yard. Just as quickly, he scurried back down while Tristan knotted a loop in the bottom of the rope and slid his foot into the hole. Then he turned to Rose. With one hand gripping the rope, he flashed her a heart-stopping smile and opened his arm, inviting her into his embrace.
She squealed, unable to contain her excitement while she wrapped her arms around his neck. He gripped her waist firmly. They locked eyes. His danced with warmth. Smiling down at her, he continued to hold her gaze as he called out. “Steady as you go, men.”
She glanced over her shoulder. Piper and Jacob, whose thickly muscled arms were on display in his tunic with cutoff sleeves, began to slowly pull the rope, and up they started to rise.
“Don’t let go,” she cried, clinging to Tristan’s neck as they rose higher and higher. When they neared the crow’s nest, Davy scampered out onto the yard, which he straddled while they took over his perch.
Tristan put his foot into the rigging before lifting her into the crow’s nest. Then he climbed in behind her, his arms wrapped around her waist, holding her flush against his body.
“Despite Davy’s claim, there is really only room for one in here.”
She smiled up at him. “’Tis snug, but I prefer that. I feel more secure.” She glanced down and a shiver shot through her. They were towering above the deck.
“Don’t look down,” he advised. “Look out.”
The moment her gaze lifted, she forgot their great height. A jolt of wonder shot through her. The sun beat down overhead, casting beams of light that danced like stardust across the water’s surface. The ocean surrounded them. Never had she felt so powerful and so insignificant in her whole life—a feeling that was at once freeing and terrifying. Exhilaration coursed through her veins, causing her heart to thud against her chest. She raised her arms high above her head, reaching for the puffy white clouds that dotted the bright blue sky.
“Look,” she exclaimed, pointing toward a family of dolphins leaping above the waves in a beautiful display of elegance and strength.
It was so glorious that it was almost too much to bear. Tears stung her eyes.
“Are you all right,” he said softly in her ear, his lips brushing her skin.
She nodded. The endless blue water now blurred in her eyes. She blinked the moisture away. “This is more stirring to my soul than anything I could have dreamed.” She turned away from the rippling waves and swooping seagulls and tilted her head back to meet his gaze. “Thank ye,” she said. “Ye cannot know how much my soul needed this.” A soft gasp escaped her lips as he reached out and slowly stroked the backs of his fingers down her cheek.
“Captain!” Jacob called up, snaking their attention. “Timothy found a small leak in the bilge.”
A regretful smile tugged at his lips. “It would seem your ship requires my care.”
She cleared her throat. “I do insist ye keep her seaworthy for me.”
He hoisted himself up on the rail of the nest with ease before balancing on the yard next to Davy. Then, taking hold of the line, he reached for her.
“Remember,” he smiled. “Don’t look down.”
“Unless you want to,” Davy chimed in.
She buried her face in Tristan’s neck as they glided down to the deck. When her feet touched down, his arm lingered around her waist. “You worked hard today. Will you consider resting before the evening meal?”
She nodded. “I hate to admit it, but my strength has not fully returned.”
He released her and stepped back. “I will send Davy down with a fresh pitcher of water for you to wash, and I would like to request that you change for supper.”
She looked down at her tunic. “Why must I change?”
He smiled. “When we reach London, you will have to change for every meal. I thought it might be wise to start practicing now.”
“Ah-ha,” she said, smiling. “Now I understand why ye bought me so many tunics.” She lifted her chin in the air. “I will do my best to make myself presentable for the evening meal,” she said mimicking his accent. Then with a wink, she crossed the deck and disappeared down the hatch to their cabin.
~ * ~
Tristan stood on the forecastle, gazing out to sea. He was joined by Philip who stood with his back against the rail.
“The wind favors our course,” Tristan said. “If we maintain this speed through the night, we might arrive in Calais by tomorrow evening.”
Philip nodded. “Hours earlier than our best time. Let us just hope it doesn’t change direct—” The quarter master’s words ended abruptly.
Tristan whirled around and spied what had left Philip so speechless. Rose stood on deck, dressed in a copper brocade surcote over a turquoise silk tunic with a yellow kirtle beneath. About her waist hung a braided leather belt, which secured her dagger. The sapphires glinted in the waning sunlight. Over her unbound red curls, she wore the silver and sapphire circlet and a delicate white veil, which lifted in the breeze. She stopped and spoke with Davy who was staring at her like a lovesick pup, and who could blame him? She was a vision.
“Captain.”
“Ah, yes,” Tris
tan said, tearing his eyes away from Rose to look at his cook who had made a special appearance on deck. “What is it, Timothy?”
“Just as you instructed, I’ve set a table on the stern castle for you and the misses.”
Tristan smiled and turned to Philip. “You know what needs to be done. Excuse me for now. I’m having dinner with my wife.”
Tristan descended the steps all the while keeping his gaze trained on Rose. Even in Simon’s hose and worn tunic, she had radiated beauty. Now, clad in silk and jewels, she stole his breath. The colors brought out the dark copper flecks in her hair and brightened her skin. He reached her side and brought her hand to his lips. “You look magnificent.”
“Thank ye,” she said, adjusting the belt over her hips. “I won’t lie. It was no small task to put on. I’ve never had to tie such long laces,” she said, showing him the back of her surcote. She smiled as she turned back around. “But the silk feels heavenly on my skin. ‘Tis as soft as a baby’s bum.”
Her smile made Tristan’s heart warm. She deserved the finery she wore. If wealth were given by measure of goodness, he imagined Rose would be as wealthy as any queen. He offered her his arm.
“Shall I escort you to our table?”
He led her across the deck. Piper’s grin stretched from ear to ear when he bowed, and when they passed Jacob he just stared, his mouth agape.
Tristan glanced at her and was surprised to note the discomfort on her face. The smile she wore did not meet her eyes.
“What is the matter?” he asked.
“I feel ridiculous, like a chicken dressed to look like a peacock.”
He stopped and motioned to Davy who set his bucket and rag down and hurried over.
“In the chest under my bed is a small looking glass. Please bring it to me,” he said. When Davy darted away, he led her up the stairs to the stern castle, where a table sat with two trenchers, one piled high with fried kippers and another teeming with stewed apples.
She smiled. “Why, ‘tis our wedding feast!”
He pulled back the chair and helped her sit before he claimed the one across from hers. “You did say the more truth to our story the better. Now, when my father asks how the kippers were, you can honestly say…”
She smiled and selected one of the crispy strips of fish and took a bite. “They’re delicious,” she said, hiding a mouthful behind her hand. She swallowed and took a sip of ale. Then she asked with a wink, “but what of the stuffed game bird?”
Tristan sat across from her. “The crew came back empty handed from their hunt,” he jested. “We’ll just have to enjoy some stuffed pheasant when we get to France.”
“What will we do when we arrive in Calais?”
“Our hull is packed with wool and lumber, which we will trade for wine from the Bordeaux region and olive oil that should be waiting for us from a Venetian merchant. There is also a merchant guild’s dinner, should you like to attend.” A shadow crossed her face, and her gaze dropped to the floor. “Or we could have a quieter stay,” he said quickly.
Her eyes brightened. “I would prefer that. I’m nervous enough about meeting yer family. I would rather not be introduced to anyone else, if it can be avoided.”
“Agreed,” he said. Then he considered their choices. “I will think upon how we shall spend our brief time there.”
Just then Davy came bounding up the steps. He handed Tristan a silver handled looking glass before bowing and making his way back down to the main deck. Tristan stood and circled around to her side of the table. Then he held the mirror in front of her face.
Rose gasped, then closed her eyes. “That woman cannot be me.”
“Take a good look,” he insisted, crouching behind her to see over her shoulder.
She opened her eyes. At first her expression showed her discomfort, but then her features relaxed and softened. Slowly, a smile curved her lips, then widened until her reflection beamed back at them both.
“You are beautiful,” he said softly.
Through the mirror, she met his gaze. “Thank ye,” she replied, her voice barely a whisper.
“You needn’t thank me,” he said. “I owe you my life, Rose. Remember that.” Then he motioned to the full trenchers. “With this wind, the food will not stay warm for long.”
She pinched an apple between her fingers and popped it in her mouth, moaning softly while she chewed. “Delicious,” she said. Just then the wind grew even stronger. She closed her eyes and lifted her face to the forceful breeze. “We are keeping an incredible pace.”
“Indeed, we are,” he said. “If the wind holds, we could be in Calais earlier than planned.”
She looked south where dark clouds marred the distant horizon and flashes of lightning brightened the sky. “Are ye concerned about that storm.”
He shook his head. “This wind will keep pushing those clouds south, ahead of us. We should enjoy a calm night, which means a restful sleep for everyone.”
Well, almost everyone.
He quickly forced his thoughts away from sleep. “More kippers?” he said, motioning to the trencher.
When they finished their mock wedding feast, they took several turns around the deck before Tristan was called away to organize the crew for the night. Before too long, the silvery moon rose in the sky. Rose stared up at the kindred orb, but she realized, at that moment, her own inner light had changed. It no longer flickered cold and austere. Now, she felt as though embers glowed warm inside her heart.
“We should probably turn in for the night,” Tristan said, coming up to stand beside her.
Her hands gripped the railing at the mention of sleep. Nay, she was neither cool like the moon nor warm like smoldering embers.
Desire burned inside her with the heat of a thousand suns.
Chapter Fifteen
Rose took a deep breath, trying desperately to remain calm. Familiar arguments rushed to the fore of her thoughts.
She was a woman grown, not an inexperienced maid.
She and Tristan had an understanding, a business arrangement, and more than that they were becoming friends. Steeling her shoulders, she turned, and tried to appear entirely unaffected by his suggestion to retire for the night.
Tristan offered her his arm. They descended the stairs to the main deck together, but when they reached the open hatch, he held back. “You go ahead to our room. I have some things I need to take care of, which should allow you time to get…er…more comfortable.”
“Thank ye,” Rose said. With a brief curtsy, she turned and headed down the stairs to the captain’s quarters.
She shut the door behind her and leaned her back against the slatted wood. Her heart hammered in her chest. She closed her eyes and saw Tristan’s handsome face: his warm, amber brown eyes and full, sensual lips. She touched her cheek, remembering his gentle caress when they had stood aloft in the crow’s nest, she nestled safely in his arms while the sea stretched out around her, endless and teeming with life.
“Not helping,” she said out loud, as she pushed away from the door. If she was to make it through another night with Tristan stretched out alongside her, his robust body pressed tight—“Enough,” she snapped at herself.
Seething with frustration and stifled passion, she yanked on the hem of her surcote, but it didn’t slide off like her usual clothing. Remembering the laces, she reached behind her, but the knot was cinched tight. After several minutes passed and plenty of tugging and pulling, she finally loosened the knot. But when she lifted her thick outer layer, it still wouldn’t budge. Straining, she tried to reach the laces higher up her back.
“Blast,” she cursed.
Bending over, she twisted her arm behind her and managed to loosen the first several, but she couldn’t reach higher. She twisted and turned and bent and cursed until she finally fell aback into an exhausted heap on the bed. A moment later, a knock sounded.
“Come in,” she groaned. “Oh, please come in.”
~ * ~
Tristan ope
ned the door and rushed inside when he spotted Rose lying on the bed, panting.
“Are you all right?” He pressed his hand to her forehead. “You’re burning up.”
“I’m not sick,” she groaned. “I’m stuck.”
“What do you mean you’re stuck?”
“’Tis this blasted surcote. I’m caged within it. A prisoner, I tell ye, and I’ve surrendered. Ye’d best get used to copper, because it’s never coming off.” `
He smiled down at her. “This is why women of means have serving maids. I will hire one on when we reach France.”
She sat up. “Don’t ye dare. I could never ask someone to wait on me. Anyway, ‘tis foolhardy to wear clothing ye can’t take off yerself.”
He offered her his hand. “Then allow me to help you.”
She swallowed hard. “Ye’re going to help me undress?”
He raised a brow at her. “Unless you prefer I get one of the crew, young Davy or maybe Piper.”
Her eyes widened. She scrambled off the bed. “Ye’ll do.”
“You can trust me to be a perfect gentleman,” he promised.
Slowly, with a pained expression on her face, she turned, allowing him access to her back…her slim, elegant back.
He cleared his throat and steeled his shoulders. Then with one hand, he swept her thick, copper mane over her shoulder. Her hair felt like silk to touch. He took a deep breath and reached out. He hooked his fingers underneath the bottom laces, located just inches from her magnificent, round derriere. Forcing his hand to stay on course, he gave a little tug. Slowly, he inched higher and higher. His gaze traced over the curve of her neck. His lips parted. He longed to kiss the hollow of her throat and draw her earlobe into his mouth. He wanted to taste every inch of her creamy white skin.
His heart hammered in his chest as he loosened the final lace. Tension gripped his shoulders. His hands twitched in protest as he dropped his arms to his side. “I…” He paused to clear his throat, forcing out the words he had no wish to utter. “I believe you should be able to manage from here.” He opened the door and stepped into the hallway. It hurt to leave her side. His body ached for her.
