Page 18 of Rose
His smile only widened. “You have already admitted that I’m your captain.” He opened the door and motioned for her to enter. “You have your orders, quarter master, Rose.”
A smile spread across her face, flooding his chest with warmth. “Aye aye, Captain,” she said and walked into the room.
She turned about, and they locked eyes, his thoughts whirling in his mind as he took in the sight of her. He passed her the candle. He couldn’t tear his gaze away, and she held his with a quiet confidence that made his pulse race.
“Goodnight, Rose,” he said softly and dipped his head in a slight bow.
She slowly curtsied, then met his gaze once more. “Goodnight, Captain.”
He closed the door and breathed deep, his nostrils flaring.
“Have I ever steered you wrong?”
Tristan jerked around. Philip stood behind him in the doorway to his own quarters, looking at him expectantly.
“In all our years sailing together,” Philip continued, “nearly fifteen now, when have I ever been wrong?”
Tristan lifted his shoulders. “Never. It is why you’re my quarter master. You’ve never gauged a storm wrong or misjudged one of the crew’s character.”
“My plan sounds outrageous, I know—”
“Not to mention immoral,” Tristan said, interrupting.
Philip made a dismissive gesture with his hand. “God will have his turn to judge our souls, but right now I’m trying to save your life.”
“Just to be clear, you think that I should proposition Rose to pose as my wife, lie to my family—several rosaries worth of sins.”
“That is exactly what I’m suggesting you do.”
Tristan shook his head. “Rose is a woman of character. She would never agree to such a blasphemous charade.”
“She would if you made it worth her while. I have felt her hands. She has worked hard every day of her life. She is poor, Tristan, something you know nothing about, but from firsthand experience, I can tell you, her life has been hard. And there is something, too, in her eyes, a sadness.”
Tristan looked at him hard. More than once, he had seen a shadow cross Rose’s face, a fleeting sadness, there and gone in the space of a breath. “You’ve seen that, too?” Tristan asked, although he was not surprised. Philip was insightful. Little went unnoticed by the quarter master.
“You could change her fortune,” Philip said softly.
“You mean I should strike a deal with her,” Tristan said with disgust.
Philip shrugged. “Yes, you saved her life. Now, she can save yours.”
“I didn’t know I was in need of rescue.”
“Then you have not thought enough about the death sentence your father has put on your head. Think about it, Captain. You could make a difference in Rose’s life. Offer her money, offer her whatever it is she wants. Her merit is such that she deserves it.”
“Enough, Philip,” Tristan snapped. “If Rose is in need, then I will give her money or whatever else will ease her hard life.”
“She does not want your charity,” Philip scoffed. “She would never accept it.”
Tristan knew Philip was right.
“I believe she has the wit and the courage to carry out my plan. And as far as sinfulness goes, mayhap this is God’s plan, not mine. You did pray to the sea for an answer, and the sea did give you Rose. That much is true.”
“Good night, Philip,” Tristan said, turning toward the stairs.
“Tristan,” Philip called.
Hearing his Christian name, he turned around in surprise.
Philip’s expression was uncharacteristically serious. “I beg you to consider this situation with your eyes fully open. Your father has erred gravely. It is up to you to save him, and the rest of us. You are facing the complete ruination of the Thatcher name. Your wealth could be seized along with your ships. What will your men do? They rely on you. What of your stepmother or your sister. What will they do when you and your father are imprisoned? Rose did not drift into your life by accident. Think about what I have said.”
Tristan’s mind raced as he mounted the stairs to the deck where he unrolled a pallet and lay down. Staring up at the star-studded sky, sleep evaded him. Images of his sister and stepmother slaving away in Baron Roxwell’s fields filled his mind. He imagined his ships captained by someone else, someone with a cruel nature like so many merchant captains. When he did at last fall asleep, his dreams were just as troubled.He stood on the forecastle, his ship barreling into a great storm. Lightning slashed the sky. The wind howled with the cries of so many who stood to suffer if he failed. He strained to reach the steering oar, but when he grabbed it, it turned into a single red rose.
