Page 28 of Rose
He offered her his arm. “I didn’t know blushing was one of the many things we’re forced to relinquish with age.”
She wove her arm through his. “Now that ye know, I will thank ye to remember,” she said, trying not to smile.
Together, they scanned the various stalls and chose some meat pies and apples. Then they crossed to the far side of the green and sat on the grass to enjoy their meal.
“Tell me more about yourself,” he said before crunching into his apple.
He caught her off guard. What else could she tell him? She couldn’t say too much about her family. Her brothers were Scottish rebels and outlaws to the crown. Ian was not a wanted man, but at that moment, he was on a secret mission for Scotland—not exactly supper conversation. She still hadn’t told him about her husband or her daughters, but that was too intimate, too revealing, and most definitely not for a lovely summer’s day picnic.
“There is little else to tell ye,” she said, picking at her pie. “I lead a simple life. One day follows the next with little variation.”
“What do you love?” he asked softly. “What are you passionate about?”
She looked up and met his gaze. “The sea,” she said without thinking. “I love the sea.” She dropped her gaze. “And my family.”
He nodded. “We are similar creatures, Rose.”
She could feel his gaze on her. Remembering that she was a woman grown and not an inexperienced maid, she met his gaze without faltering. “Indeed, we are, Tristan.”
He smiled again. “I’ll never grow tired of hearing my name on your lips. Tristan,” he said, once more imitating her accent.
Laughing, she threw her apple core at him. “Stop that.”
With a mischievous grin, he seized the core and popped the entirety in his mouth. “I make no promises,” he mumbled while he chewed. Then he stood and offered her his hand. “Come along. We have more shopping to do. Then we can take a ride in the countryside.”
~ * ~
Tristan led Rose to a stall decorated with yellow bunting. He scanned the vendor’s wares: rings with various gems, many as large as blackberries, gilded circlets, and a variety of jewel-studded dirks. A slim dirk with a gold-plated handle embellished with three small sapphires caught his eye.
“This is the one,” he said, picking up the small dagger.
Rose looked up at him with wide eyes. “What am I to do with that?”
“It will adorn your belt.”
She clasped the dagger, her eyes wide. “Are ye quite certain about this?”
“You must trust me, Rose.”
He then selected three slender circlets, one a simple design of woven gold and silver, another encrusted with small emeralds, and finally one made of silver with a single sapphire at the center.
“What about this for your wife?” the vendor said, holding up an elaborate heart shaped headdress laden with jewels.
Rose met his gaze and discreetly shook her head.
Tristan turned to the man. “My wife’s tastes are simpler.”
The vendor smiled. “You’re a lucky man. She won’t drain your coffers.”
Tristan smiled. “Indeed, I am,” he said as the vendor took the circlets behind his table and proceeded to wrap them in layers of linen.
Rose stood on her toes and whispered in Tristan’s ear. “If he knew my bride price was an entire ship, he might not think ye so lucky.”
Tristan swallowed his laughter. “He would be wrong,” he rasped.
Having chosen her dirk and headpieces, he then considered the rings. “May I see your hand?” he asked.
She placed her hand in his. He inspected her long, elegantly shaped fingers before he turned it over. His thumb grazed her callouses the instant before she snatched her hand away.
