Page 33 of Rose
Chapter Twelve
Rose lay in bed staring up at the slatted boards of the ceiling, her mind a whirlwind while she considered all that had occurred. Never could she have dreamed that she would sail on a merchant ship to Wales and France and London—places she could not conjure images for, even in her wildest imaginings. She had spent most of her life within the city walls of Berwick.
After the massacre, she and her brothers were exiled to a camp hidden deep within a Scottish forest where they lived for five years. Then, she had been forced to outrun the long reach of King Edward alongside her brother Jack, whose new bride was wanted for treason against the crown. For more than two years, she had lived on the isolated shores of their haven. Over time, her life there had changed as they were joined by her other brothers—all outlaws to the crown but heroes to the Scottish people.
She knew that right and wrong were often blurred when the law was made by the wicked. Her brothers had spent years robbing English nobles on the road north into Scotland, which was not only against the law of men but of God. It was one of the ten commandments.Thou shall not steal.
But the MacVie men had stolen from wealthy English nobles who had laid claim to Scottish lands. Every penny taken was given back to the Scottish people. They fed exiled orphans whose families were slaughtered during the massacre. They helped rebuild Scotland’s armies, which she did not doubt was the right thing to do.
Likewise, she knew aiding Tristan was the right thing to do, despite the deception involved. He couldn’t marry a woman tied to such a deplorable family, nor could he allow his father to face the consequences of his rash decision. What’s more, she could change the destiny of her family. With a ship like the Messenger, there was nothing stopping Ian’s dream of turning the MacVies into merchants.
She gasped as a soft rapping sounded at the door, interrupting her thoughts. Before she could ask who was there, Tristan stepped into the room and quickly closed the door behind him. She pulled the covers up to her chin.
“What are ye doing?” she blurted, but then she noticed he had his eyes closed.
“William, the new physician, saw me entering the quarter master’s cabin and redirected me, thinking I was too drunk to find my own room.”
“Oh,” she said, her shoulders relaxing. “I am decent enough. Ye don’t have to stand there with yer eyes closed.”
He opened his eyes and smiled at her. “I was trying to be a gentleman.”
Again, Rose was struck by how devastatingly handsome he was. She resisted the urge to pull the blanket over her head. What was it about Tristan that turned her into a blushing maid?
He sat down on his desk bench and faced her. “If you don’t mind, I will just wait here for a little while and give William some time to return to his room and fall asleep. Then I will just pop across the hall.”
“But what happens in the morning?” she asked. “What if William sees ye leaving Philip’s room then, or he catches ye tomorrow night? Anyway, he is sure to realize that Philip is sleeping aloft with the other sailors. Will that not start tongues wagging?”
Tristan took a deep breath. “You’re right. We need a better solution. As we carry on, I’m certain we will run into bumps such as this along the way. But I do not doubt that our two minds will find the answer.”
Rose sat up, keeping the sheet tucked beneath her chin while she thought. Her gaze darted down to the floor space. It was hardly enough room for her to stretch out, but if she were to curl into a ball, she could wedge herself in the tiny nook.
She threw the covers back, but kept her arm demurely crossed over her chest. “I will just sleep on the floor.”
Tristan raised a brow at her. “Have we met before? Because I’m fairly certain, if we had you would know that this ship could be sinking, and the only way it could stay afloat is if you slept on the floor of my cabin—and still, I would never allow you to do so.”
She smiled at his jest. “I suppose ye’re right. ‘Tis a silly idea.” She spread the covers back over herself and nudged as far against the wall as she could. “There is only one solution,” she said. Then she took a deep breath. “Get into bed.”
He shook his head. “I couldn’t possibly allow you to—”
“Excuse me, Captain,” she snapped, interrupting him. “Do not think for a moment that our arrangement comes with true husbandly rights. Ye’re not allowing me anything, nor do I need yer permission regarding any of my decisions. I am a woman grown, slightly long in the tooth, and I do not take orders.”
He held his hands up in surrender. “I refused your suggestion not as an order from your husband but as a true gentleman.”
“And I appreciate that,” Rose continued, softening the tone of her voice. “But we must proceed as man and wife for our scheme to work.”
Tristan shook his head. “Forgive me, but I must stand firm, not out of disrespect for you but out of respect for your honor.”
“My honor?” she said impatiently. “Tristan, I’m the peasant daughter of a fishmonger. Do not fash yerself over my reputation or whatever else ye think is at stake. We have but one choice, to share this bed.”
He stood up, his brow deeply furrowed while he considered the space next to her. “Even if I could bring myself to agree to your suggestion, I do not think we will both fit.”
“Och, the bed is not that small. Stop fretting and climb in,” she insisted. “We’re both tired, and if ye don’t remember, let me remind ye that we set sail on the morrow.”
His eyes widened at her tone. “You just might make a fine quarter master after all.” He eyed the narrow bed again, shifting his weight from one foot to the next. He reminded her of someone reconciling themselves to mounting a horse for the first time.
She had to bite the side of her cheek to keep from smiling as she pressed herself against the wall. Then at last, he lay down next to her but on top of the covers. The side of his body pressed against her full length.
Her breath caught.
