Page 31 of Rose
He reached across the table and took her hand. “Are you all right?” he said in a soft voice.
She turned back to look at him, her brows drawn in confusion. “Of course, I am,” she said smiling. “’Tis a fine night. I’ve a full belly. I’m aboard a magnificent ship that will soon be voyaging to France. There is little that could improve my mood.”
She wasn’t lying. He could see the joy now glinting in her eyes. Whatever darkness had entered her thoughts had come and gone. Still, he couldn’t help wondering what secret sorrow she carried with her.
He stood and offered her his arm. “Would you like to take a turn across the deck before you retire?”
She put her hand in his and smiled. “I would, indeed.”
The memory of her quiet sadness remained within him. He wanted somehow to take whatever it was that pained her away. “It is strange, Rose. But somehow, I feel like I’ve known you much longer than a week.” He chuckled then. “It’s absurd, I know. In so many ways, we are still strangers to each other, and yet…”
She nodded. “I feel the same way. I think it is because, despite all that separates us, we are very similar creatures.” She raised her arms to the sky and turned to encompass the surrounding dark water. “’Tis the sea that binds us. There is more salt water than blood flowing through our veins.”
He chuckled. “I believe you’re right.”
He led her down the hatch to the cabins below.
“Where will ye sleep?” she asked. “Surely, ye cannot sleep above deck. Won’t that raise questions among the men?”
He motioned to the door across from his. “Philip has given up his room. He will be the one to sleep aloft.”
She pointed to the door farther down. “Why does he not sleep there?”
“That room is for the surgeon,” he explained.
“Oh, of course. When will he arrive?”
“I expected William earlier. You will like him. He’s a good man. He sailed the first ship I captained, in fact.”
“I look forward to meeting him.”
For a moment, they stood unspeaking, their gazes locked. Without thinking, he leaned close and pressed a kiss to her cheek, then jerked away when he realized what he had done. “Forgive me. I forgot myself. It just seemed natural.”
She pressed her hand to her cheek. The slightest smile curved her lips. “I’m not offended.”
He took a deep breath. “I promise you, I will not allow another slip like that.” Then he bowed low at the waist. “Goodnight, Rose.”
“Goodnight,” she said softly before turning into the room, her gaze holding his until the door closed between them.
He flattened his hand against the slatted wood of the door and blew out a long, slow breath. “Be careful,” he whispered out loud to himself. Then he turned and headed up the stairs, shaking his head. He needed to keep his ever-growing attraction to Rose in check. They had entered into an arrangement that required great care. Too much was at stake. He could not allow his mind to be muddled. He thought of his lips pressed against her soft skin. He had inhaled the scent of her hair.
“Blast,” he cursed aloud as he started across the main deck. Where was his usual control?
He mounted the stairs to the forecastle and was surprised to find Philip standing with William Asher, the Messenger’s new surgeon.
“When did you come aboard?” Tristan said, smiling.
William clasped his outstretched hand. “Just now.”
“It has been too long, old friend.”
“Indeed,” William agreed. “I believe it has been five years since we sailed together. I was happy to receive your message. I left almost immediately and rode straight through the afternoon and evening to reach Cardiff as quickly as I could.”
“I can tell,” Tristan said with a chuckle. “Forgive me, William, but you look shattered.”
William nodded, his smile still unwavering. “That I am, but forget about me. I want to congratulate you. Tristan Thatcher has taken a wife! You can imagine my delight when I heard the good news. When can I meet her?”
“She has just retired for the night, and I suggest you do the same. There is much to be done on the morrow.”
