Page 35 of Rose
Chapter Thirteen
Rose opened her eyes. She lay on her side, Tristan’s warm body curled around hers from behind. His arm encircled her waist, and his leg held hers captive. Never had there been a more willing prisoner. She was surrounded by him. His warm breath caressed her neck. She held still, savoring his tender strength.
He stirred. She closed her eyes and made her breaths deep and even.
“Rose?” he whispered.
But she didn’t move or speak.
His arm slowly loosened, releasing her waist while the pressure of his leg slid away. A few moments later, she heard the door quietly open, then close once more. She turned to ensure the room was empty. Then she fell back down on the small bed, exhausted and elated all at once.
~ * ~
Philip sat across from his captain at the table on the forecastle. He was attempting to go over the ship’s accounts and supplies in preparation for setting sail, although Tristan was not making the task easy. Philip read off the number of barrels of ale in the hull. “We have more than we need. In fact, our supply should hold until we reach London. Should I cancel our standing order when we reach Calais?”
Tristan didn’t respond. Instead, he stared out over the rails, but at what Philip could not say.
“What do you think, Captain?”
“Good,” Tristan replied absently, his gaze unwavering.
“Interesting,” Philip said. “I appreciate your insight.” He cleared his throat before moving on to the next concern on his list. “Did you log the sacks of wool? We have two more than what our records show?”
Tristan murmured something incomprehensible.
Philip crossed his arms over his chest as he considered the dark circles under his captain’s eyes. “We’ve also ploughed the hull and planted a crop of oats.”
Nothing.
Philip chuckled. “Captain, the ship is sinking.”
“Fine, whatever you think.”
“Captain!”
Tristan looked up at his quarter master in surprise. “What’s come over you, Philip?”
“Me?” Philip said, pressing his hand to his chest. “In the last few minutes you’ve replaced our cargo with soil, and you let the Messenger sink to the bottom of the sea.”
Tristan sat straight and scrubbed his hands over his face. “Forgive me. I admit my mind is elsewhere, and I barely slept.”
Philip raised a quizzical brow. “Why was your sleep so troubled?”
Because Rose and I shared my bed last night.
“I’m not really sure why,” Tristan answered.
“All right, so you’re tired, but why are you so distracted?”
This morning, Rose’s round bottom was pressed against my hard length, and I had to dart out of bed before she awoke and felt my desire.
He lifted his brows and shook his head. “No reason comes to mind.”
Philip cleared his throat. “Before turning in last night, I…ah…went to my old cabin to ask you a question. You can imagine my surprise when I found the bed empty, and you nowhere else on the ship.”
“It’s not what you think, Philip,” Tristan said sternly. “Rose and I have decided to share my cabin to ensure tongues do not wag. Nothing happened. Nothing will ever happen. Rose is a woman of honor, just as I am a man of honor.”
Philip held out a placating hand. “I never would have assumed otherwise.” Then he looked over Tristan’s shoulder, and his face brightened. “Here is your beautiful wife now.”
