Page 19 of Rose
Chapter Eight
Tristan stood outside his quarters, ready to knock softly on the door, but instead, he started pacing.
How had he come to be in a situation where his only foreseeable choices were to marry a cruel noblewoman, to face the ruination of all he held dear, or to ask a woman he had known for less than a week to pretend to be his new bride?
“Captain, I can hear ye pacing out there,” Rose said through the door.
He froze, his heart hammering in his chest. For twenty-five years he had sailed the tumultuous seas. He had faced attacks, negotiated with kings, and fought for the rights of merchants. But for the first time in his memory, he was nervous. How would Rose react when she heard his proposal?
He racked his brain for a different answer. There had to be another way forward.
“Damnation,” he whispered as defeat forced him to tap lightly on the slatted wood.
Rose swung the door wide. “Captain, yer going to wear a hole in the hull and sink us all to the bottom of the sea if ye keep up that pacing. What is on yer mind? Do we leave for France today?”
Tristan rubbed the back of his neck as he considered how best to answer her question. “Well, that depends on you.”
“On me?” she said. “I do not ken.”
He took a deep breath before he began. “I would like to propose…” his words trailed off. He shook his head at his own discomfort with the word ‘propose’.
He cleared his throat. “What I mean to say is that I have a proposition for you.” He motioned into the room. “Perhaps, you should sit down.”
She took a seat on his bed. Closing the door behind him, he stood awkwardly. “Before I begin, you must understand something about me.”
“Does this have anything to do with the problem that Philip mentioned I might be able to help with?”
Tristan nodded. “It does. And you may, indeed, be in a position to help, but before I go into any detail about that, allow me to first explain something.”
She looked up at him with clear, curious eyes.
What was he thinking?
He could not ask this of her. She would think him mad or a scoundrel.
Then he noticed that she still wore Simon’s hose and the oversized tunic. “Do you not like the tunic we bought you in town? Does it not fit properly?”
She smiled. “’Tis wonderful. I couldn’t love it more, but ‘tis too fine to wear every day. I would never forgive myself if I ripped it or spilled something on it.”
Her words struck his heart. The deep green tunic was made from fine wool, but wealthier women, his own sister included, would have turned their noses up at the plain garment. It was a reminder of Rose’s humble origins. Mayhap Philip was right. She might welcome the opportunity to better her life and the lives of her family.
He picked up the tunic that was folded on his desk and laid it out on the bed next to her. “It would please me if you wore it. Simon’s isn’t really suitable.”
She smoothed her hand over the soft, green fabric. “If it pleases ye, then I will change after we’ve discussed whatever is on yer mind.”
He took a deep breath. “Right. Back to the matter at hand.” He sat on the bench in front of his desk but facing out. His knees filled the space in front of the door. “You see, Rose, the morning you drifted into my life, we had made port on Skye where a missive awaited me from my father announcing that he had betrothed me to the daughter of a baron.”
She clasped her hands together. “That is wonderful. Congratulations.”
He held out his hand to curb her enthusiasm. “Permit me to add that he did this without my consent or even my knowledge.”
Her smile vanished. “But…but ye’re a grown man. Ye’re more than a grown man, in fact.”
He smiled at her reference to his age. “At five and thirty, I am certainly old enough to choose my own wife.”
Her brows drew together. “Why would yer father do this, particularly given yer distaste for nobility?”
“Ambition,” he said simply. “Regardless of my father’s success and wealth, he is ever aware of the ‘inferiority’ of his birth. My marriage into a noble family would open doors I would rather stay shut whilst my father would give his right arm to walk straight in.”
