Page 14 of Rose
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 werehow do you doorpleased 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 wordsCast her back to the devilon 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?”
