Page 12 of Rose
“Wales!”
“Yes, and in two days’ time, we set our course for France.”
“France!”
He chuckled. “Yes, France. I’m sorry to alarm you, but I do have a schedule to keep.”
“Forgive me, Captain. Ye can imagine my surprise.”
“There is nothing to forgive, Rose. We’ve made a habit of surprising one another. Imagine my surprise, shock actually, when my lookout told me he saw a woman drifting on the meager remnants of a boat.”
Just then a soft rapping on the door intruded upon their conversation.
“Enter,” Tristan said.
Robert appeared at the door. His eyes crinkled when he smiled. “She’s awake!”
Tristan turned back to Rose. “This is Robert Appleby, the surgeon who has tended you these last days.”
Robert squeezed just past the entryway. Then he dipped his head in greeting. “You have brought excitement to what has become a very routine trade route. Most of the crew is still convinced you’re a siren or a silky.” The surgeon paused as his laughter trailed off. “You aren’t actually a siren or a silky, are you?”
She smiled slightly. “I assure ye I’m an ordinary woman.”
Tristan held her gaze for several moments, taking in her strength and courage. “I believe you are a woman, but ordinary? That I strongly doubt. Ordinary women are not found adrift on the sea with no land in sight.”
A sadness flashed in her eyes. “My skiff is destroyed then.”
He nodded. “Yes.”
She sighed. “And after Ian worked so hard.”
“Your husband, no doubt, will think nothing about the skiff. He will be too overjoyed to see you in one piece.”
“I’m not married.”
“No?” he said not bothering to hide his surprise. She must have been near thirty in age. It was unthinkable that a woman as beautiful and courageous as she could be unmarried, but then that would explain why she would have the freedom to set out alone in the first place.
“Who is Ian?” he asked.
“My youngest brother. He made me a fine, wee ship.”
“You have brothers then?”
“Aye, a crew of them—five in total.”
“How did they allow you to venture out on the sea alone?”
Her eyes flashed bright with indignation, and the blanket fell away from her shoulders as she clenched her fists at her waist. “I am a woman with one and thirty years. I do not require the permission of my wee brothers in any matter.”
Robert chuckled. “Mind yourself, Captain. She’s got a temper to match her hair.” The old man’s voice grew softer as he continued, “just like my beloved Clara.”
Tristan glanced over his shoulder and saw tears glistening in Robert’s faded blue eyes. “My wife,” Robert said in explanation. “You are very like her in appearance. I would guess in other ways, too. She passed away ten years ago now, may God rest her soul. But she had gumption, fueled by her fiery hair. I loved her spirit,” he said, his voice cracking. “I will take my leave before I start blubbering.” He pointed to the bundle on her bed. “There is a clean tunic and a pair of hose from Simon, the cabin boy. They will have to do until some proper clothes are made for you. If you are feeling strong enough, you may take a turn on deck. But mind, you don’t overdo it.” He stepped out into the hall, then glanced back. “You really do remind me of my Clara.” In a muffle of tears, he was gone.
A sad smile curved Tristan’s lips as he turned back to Rose. “He loved his wife very much.”
“There is no finer or greater magic than true love,” she said softly.
She was right, or at least Tristan assumed she was right. His parents had known true love. Obviously, Robert had, as well. Tristan had never been on dry land long enough to fall in love. Still, talk of true love and magic only fueled his desire not to marry Lady Roxwell.
