by Lily Baldwin
Then Rose scooped a handful of the oak paste and smeared it over Elizabeth’s red, blistered palm.
Elizabeth whimpered from the pain.
“Betsy,” Rose said sharply. “Boil some water and make a Willow Bark tisane. Quickly now.” Then she turned to Elizabeth. “Willow Bark will bring you comfort.”
“What shall I do?” Iris said, holding out one of the fabric strips.
“Gently wrap the wound, one strip at a time,” Rose advised.
She watched as Iris laid the cloth across Elizabeth’s palm then swept it around her whole hand.
“A little tighter,” Rose said, keeping a close eye on Iris’s progress.
Soon, Elizabeth’s wound was fully dressed, and the strips knotted off. Iris looked at Rose with grateful, tear-filled eyes. “Thank you,” she said, squeezing Rose’s hand.
“Ye don’t need to thank me,” Rose replied. “I couldn’t have done it alone.”
Smiling through her tears, Iris pulled her daughter into her arms, kissed her brow, and rocked her gently.
Rose sat beside them, swaying slowly side to side in the familiar motions of motherhood.
“I’ve got the tisane,” Betsy said breathlessly, charging into the room, but in her haste, she spilled some of the brew. “Don’t worry,” she said, lifting a pot in her other hand. “I’ve got more.” She handed the cup and pot to Rose. “I’ll just run and fetch a rag to clean the spill.”
“Here,” Rose said, passing the cup to Iris who helped Elizabeth drink it down.
A short while later, Tristan and Owen arrived with the physician.
“She’s there, Colin,” Owen said, breathlessly, pointing to his daughter.
“He has eyes, dear,” Iris said to her husband. “Thank you for coming, Colin.” Then she turned to Rose. “Help me get her in a chair.”
Rose stood and helped both Elizabeth and Iris to their feet. After Elizabeth was seated, Rose gave the physician an account of the accident and how she’d treated Elizabeth’s burns.
“You have done well, Rose,” Colin said when she finished. A wide smile spread across his ruddy face, crinkling his eyes at the edges. Then he turned to Tristan. “And so have you,” he said with a wink.
“Will our daughter be all right?” Owen asked.
Colin nodded, causing his heavy jowls to wobble. “I’m certain of it.” He sat down next to Elizabeth and examined her dressing. He smiled once again at Rose. “You have done exactly as I would have. Ground oak bark and honey will soothe the burn and encourage healing.” He shifted in his seat and said to Owen. “Your new daughter-in-law is a skilled healer.”
“Thank ye,” Rose said. “But Mistress Thatcher was of great assistance.”
Iris smiled proudly. “I applied the dressing.”
Tristan wrapped his arm around Rose’s shoulder and smiled down at her. “My wife is a woman of great character and strength. All of you have only glimpsed a fraction of her true worth.”
The physician stood then and shook Tristan’s hand. “You are a very lucky man.” Then he turned to Elizabeth. “I will visit tomorrow at midday and see how you are feeling, my dear. Until then, get plenty of rest, and do not remove your dressings. Fresh air might renew the pain.”
“Thank you for coming so quickly, Colin. Please take your noon meal with us on the morrow after you tend Elizabeth.”
“Thank you, Mistress Thatcher,” Colin said. “I would be delighted.”
Iris smiled. “We look forward to your company.” She walked Colin to the doorway. “Darby will see you home again.”
After the physician left, Tristan stood and reached for Rose’s hand. “We should also be going,” he said. “It has been a very long day. I would like to see Rose settled for the night.”
His stepmother’s eyes widened. “No, Tristan! It would please me very much if you and Rose would stay here for the duration of your visit.” Then she smiled at Rose. “That way I can get to know my new daughter better.”
Chapter Twenty Three
Two days later, Rose returned to the round sitting room and collapsed in one of the chairs by the cold hearth. “I’m exhausted,” she said, smiling at Iris and Elizabeth who sat nearby, both women equally as breathless.
Tristan smiled as he strolled into the room. “I saw Darby just now in the courtyard. He told me of your return and of your weary feet. He, in fact, looked half dead.”
“When we asked him to accompany us on our outing, I doubt he knew what he was getting himself into. We walked all of London and had a simply wonderful day, did we not, Rose?” Iris said, dabbing at her brow with a handkerchief.
“I cannot remember the last time I enjoyed such a wonderful day,” Rose replied.
Iris gripped her armrests and pushed off just enough to lean over and kiss Rose on the cheek before she collapsed.
“I agree,” Elizabeth said. “And now my feet hurt so badly, I’ve completely forgotten about my hand.”
Rose sat up straight. “Has the pain returned?”
Elizabeth shook her head. “Only a little.” Then a smile spread across her face. “Don’t fash yerself over me,” she said, imitating Rose’s accent.
“I’ll fash myself if I please,” Rose laughed. Then she started to get up. “Yesterday, after the noon meal, Colin recommended we change yer dressing today.”
Elizabeth laid her head back and closed her eyes. “Not yet. Let us rest a while.”
Rest sounded marvelous to Rose. She sat down and laid her head back, also closing her eyes. The day’s events flashed by in her mind. They had walked to St. Paul’s and sat for Mass. Then, they wondered the market and ate pigeon pies and roasted chestnuts. With full bellies, they took a ferry down the Thames and saw the king’s palace where her brother, Alec, had lived for several months, spying against the crown for the cause of Scottish independence. Seeing it had filled her with pride, but it had also been an unwelcome reminder that she had yet to tell Tristan about her brothers’ secret lives, nor was she even certain if she should.
Tristan smiled down at her and took her hand. “I’m glad you enjoyed yourself.”
She forced the matter of her family from her mind. At that moment, she felt very content and too tired to make decisions. “I enjoyed myself immensely.”
In fact, it had been divine to spend the day with Tristan’s stepmother and sister. Rose missed her own mother and wee sister every day. She felt their absence in her bones. She smelled them in the air. She heard their laughter on the wind, which mingled with the voices of her own sweet girls. She thought for a moment of how vulnerable and yet how resilient the human heart truly was. Love is what made life hurt so much, but love is also what compelled the wounded to carry on.
Iris took Rose’s hand. “My stepson has always had good sense, and marrying you was the smartest thing he has ever done.”
Elizabeth’s eyes flew open. “I just had a marvelous idea.” She sat up and scooted to the edge of her seat, turning pleading eyes on Rose. “You must come live here with us when Tristan sets out again. I cannot bear the idea of you going back to Scotland and living so far away.”
An ache surrounded Rose’s heart as she met Elizabeth’s honest and trusting gaze.
“I…I…” Rose tried to reassure Elizabeth but she faltered. Her chest tightened against the weight of her remorse. She had not expected such immediate love and devotion from Tristan’s family.
Tristan gently rested his hand on her shoulder. “Rose would come to miss her own family were she to live here permanently.”
Iris smiled at Rose. “Of course, you would.” Then she turned to look at Tristan. Reaching out, she took his hand and then she grasped Rose’s hand. “I know I am getting a little ahead of myself, but Tristan’s father and I seldom travel anymore. He suffers from terrible leg pains and swelling if he is on his feet too long. As for myself, I would just as soon stay in London for the rest of my days. But mayhap, you both will consider returning for Christmas and stay until after the feast of the Epi
phany?”
Elizabeth’s eyes brightened. “Oh yes, please do. We decorate the hall with garlands and holly, and we have feasts and parties. Mother leads father’s charity, which cares for the widows of lost seamen. Many of the women stay here with us for the twelve days. We make presents for their children. Oh, Rose, you will just love it. Really, you will. Please, say you’ll come.”
Rose swallowed the knot in her throat. “Of course I will,” she said with forced brightness.
She could feel herself begin to panic. Tristan squeezed her shoulder reassuringly. “Stepmother, I promised Rose I would take her riding this afternoon.”
Iris’s eyes widened. “Surly not, Tristan. She’s had too much exercise as it is.”
Rose nigh jumped to her feet. “I’m feeling quite recovered.”
Iris smiled. “You have such spirit.” She clasped her hands together. “Then of course, you may go. Have a marvelous time. We will hold supper until your return.”
Tristan led her toward the door. “Thank you, but don’t keep supper. We will take our meal at a tavern in the city.”
Rose walked stiffly at Tristan’s side as they left the sitting room and the great hall. But the moment her foot touched down in the courtyard, she barreled ahead toward the stables.
“Darby,” she blurted upon entering. “Saddle Tom, please, and make haste.”
“Breathe, Rose,” Tristan said, coming up behind her.
She whirled around, her breaths short. “I assure ye, Tristan, I am trying.”
Darby hastened toward them with the white stallion in tow. “Thank you,” Tristan said, taking the reins.
When they cleared the stables, Tristan lifted Rose into the saddle and swung up behind her. He cut back through the courtyard, then out the main gate. When they trotted onto the open road, Rose clasped Tom’s mane tightly and cried, “Faster, Tristan.”
He drove his heel into the horse’s flanks and thundered down the road, but all too soon the roadway grew crowded with wagons, people milling about, livestock, and racing children. He was forced to slow their pace.
Rose’s heart pounded. All she could see were Elizabeth’s adoring eyes.
“Stop, Tristan. I must get down.”
The moment her feet touched the ground, she hastened down an empty alleyway.
Her heart pounded in her chest as she paced back and forth, wringing her hands. “Heavenly Father, forgive us.”
Tristan gently grabbed her shoulders. “Rose, you have to calm down.”
Her eyes widened. “I cannot. Did ye not see their faces?” She grabbed his tunic. “They believe this is real. If they ever find out we’re not actually married, it will break their hearts.”
Tristan raked his hand through his hair. “I know. They can’t ever find out.”
Rose shook her head. “Mayhap, we should just tell them the truth.”
He shook his head. “We cannot. It is too risky. If ever the truth were to spread, whether from a servant overhearing them speak, anything, their lives would be forfeit. We have no choice but to see this through.”
The truth of his words cut through her panic. Of course, they could not end the charade. They had gone too far for that. Were they to tell the truth, not only would it devastate Elizabeth and Iris, but the wrath of Baron Roxwell would surely come down on all their heads.
Her arms hung limp at her side as she slumped against the wall of the stone building behind her. “Ye’re right,” she said. “We have to carry on.”
He stood in front of her and took her hand. “It will not be for much longer. Soon, we will be able to leave, and then I will take you home and…”
His words suddenly trailed off. She looked up at him. His brows were drawn, and his lips downturned.
“And I will no longer be yer wife,” she said softly. The realization made her heart ache worse than ever before.
He stepped closer and took both her hands in his. “I know you long for home, but Rose, I must tell you that these last days have been the happiest I have ever known.”
She swallowed the knot in her throat. “I cannot begin to tell ye what these last days have meant to me.”
A sad smile curved his lips. “You are a very special woman. It will not be easy to let you go.”
She rose up on her toes and cupped his cheeks. “But that time is not now,” she breathed before pressing her lips to his. He pulled her close, his tongue sweeping into her mouth, stroking, feeding the longing that ripped through her core. She pressed her body closer, wishing they were once more on the ship in his small cabin so that she could feel his hands on her body. She moaned softly, weaving her fingers through his hair when, suddenly, the bite of strong hands seized her shoulders, yanking her away the instant before Tristan was slammed against the wall.
Chapter Twenty Four
“Get yer hands off my sister.”
Rose blinked, her heart pounding. “Ian?” she gasped, unable to believe her eyes. Her youngest brother had her pretend husband pushed against the wall with a dagger pressed against his throat.
“Ian,” Rose shouted, coming to her senses. “Let him go.” An instant later, she strained her neck back and locked eyes with Ramsay, Scottish rebel and blacksmith. His long blond hair was coiled into several thick braids that hung past his massive shoulders. He smiled down at her, his blue eyes kind, despite the firm grip with which he held her.
“Release me,” she snapped, but the blacksmith only shook his head.
“Who are you?” Ian snarled.
She jerked her head around. Ian gritted his teeth at Tristan.
“That is a bit complicated,” Tristan said, his voice strained.
“Leave him alone, Ian,” she shouted, struggling against the strong hands holding her captive. “Ramsay MacTavish, ye let me go this instant, ye bull of a man.”
He smiled down at her. “Forgive me, Rose, but I’m not releasing ye until Ian tells me to.”
She frowned up at his stubborn face. She knew there was naught she could say that would convince the large man to let her go. She turned her attention back to her brother whose hand was now squeezing Tristan’s throat.
“Ian!”
“What are ye doing here, Rose?” he said, his gaze never leaving Tristan’s face. His voice rose in desperation. “What in God’s holy name is going on?”
“I will explain everything. Just let him go!”
Tristan was beginning to turn purple. “Ian, ye’re killing him.”
“He was kissing ye,” he snarled. “He had his hands all over ye.”
“He’s supposed to kiss me. He’s my husband,” she shouted.
Ian jerked his head around and looked at her with wide eyes before he lowered his dirk and released Tristan’s neck.
Tristan collapsed to his knees, sputtering and coughing.
At that moment, Ramsay let her go. She rushed to Tristan’s side.
“Are ye all right?” she asked. He leaned back against the wall, his hand gently cradling his throat as he tried to catch his breath.
Behind her Ian spoke. “I left ye not a month ago, Rose. How is it that ye’re married!”
“Not now,” she snapped at him, then shifted her gaze back to Tristan. His normal color was returning, and the raspy sound in his throat was gone.
“Are ye all right?” she repeated.
He nodded, still cradling his throat.
“Ye should have walloped him,” she told Tristan.
He shook his head, a smile playing at his lips. “It is never wise to wallop a brother when there are four others, although I do appreciate your confidence in me.” He squeezed her hand reassuringly. “I’m all right,” he said again before straining to stand. Looking past her to Ian, he stretched out his hand. “This is not how I envisioned our first meeting, but given the rare woman Rose is, I should have known you’d be protective. I know I am.”
Ian ignored Tristan’s hand.
“Who the hell are ye?” Then he turned fierce eyes on Rose. “And what in
blazes are ye doing in London?” He gripped his head with his hands, making his red curls even wilder. He turned to Ramsay. “Am I dreaming?”
Ramsay lifted his broad shoulders. “If ye are, then get out of my head, because I see her, too.”
She put her hands on her hips. “Do ye both think I should just stay on my island and wait for death to take me?”
Ramsay backed away. “I know better than to argue with a red-haired MacVie.” The blacksmith turned to Tristan. “Ye’d best stay quiet until these two calm down. They’re mean as second skimmings when they’re mad.”
“I’ll take my chances,” Tristan replied. Then he stepped forward, his hands outstretched as he approached Ian and Rose as if he were handling spooked horses. “Why don’t we find a quiet place where we can all sit down and talk.”
Rose’s hands remained on her hips, her stance unyielding. Ian stood with his arms crossed over his chest, glaring at his sister. Then, suddenly, his features softened, and he seized her, pulling her into a fierce embrace. “I didn’t mean to yell at ye, but ye can imagine my surprise. I was just walking by and there ye were, my sister, being groped by a bleeding Englishman.” He lifted his head and glared at Tristan before he turned his gaze back to her. “Ye’re supposed to be leagues away.”
“’Tis I who am sorry,” Rose said, hugging him back. “I ken ye were just trying to protect me, and ye didn’t mean to almost kill my husband.”
“Yer husband,” Ian said, stiffening as he turned once more to look at Tristan. “Well, he seems to have some sense, for a sassenach.” Then he took Rose’s hand and started to lead her out of the alley. “I know a place we can go.”
Rose glanced back at Tristan who had earned Ramsay’s watchful eye. “Be nice to him, Ramsay. He is important to me.”
They wound through a maze of narrow, dirt streets before Ian stopped in front of a two-story stone building. He smiled down at Rose. “I never thought I would ever bring ye here.” Rose looked up at the carved wooden sign hanging above the door, The Anchor Tavern. She looked through the window with interest. “I’ve never been to a tavern,” she said to Tristan.
