Page 50 of Rose
Chapter Nineteen
Rose knelt on the stern castle, helping Davy scrub the floor while Tristan and Philip stood on the opposite side of the ship. She and Tristan had scarce said two words to each other since they had boarded the Messenger.
She glanced over at him, and her skin grew warm just thinking about their kiss that morning.
Kiss?
It had been no mere kiss.
She had nearly torn the tunic off his shoulders.
She stole another glance his way just as he looked in her direction. They locked eyes. Even across the ship, she could see the desire glint in his gaze. Her cheeks burned. Quickly, she turned away and frantically scrubbed at the already clean wood.
Davy’s brows drew together. “Are you all right, Rose?”
“Right as rain,” she smiled, her hands moving faster and faster.
“Mayhap, you would like to take a rest?” he suggested.
She shook her head. “The last thing I need is rest. I would like to keep busy. Idle hands and all that. So, Davy, tell me, do ye have a sweetheart who is watching the horizon for yer return?”
Davy blushed, which she appreciated. At least she wasn’t the only one on the Messenger with pink cheeks.
His young face took on a wistful expression. “Her name is Cora. She’s my best friend’s younger sister. I’m going to marry her as soon as I can afford to…” His words trailed off as he slowly stood.
“What is it?” Rose said, wanting to hear more about Cora. “What’s wrong.” Her gaze followed the direction of Davy’s. Tristan darted up the rigging and balanced on the yard, gripping the top of the mast. He closed his eyes and lifted his face in the breeze. Below him, the crew ceased their work. Lines fell slack. Men froze in whatever position they were in when they noticed their captain on the move. Tension filled the air. Then suddenly, Tristan shifted his gaze to the men below. “Batten the hatches,” he shouted. “Secure the rigging.”
Rose turned to Davy. “What’s happening?”
Davy’s jaw was set. “Storm’s coming,” he said, before he seized the bucket and rags.
She turned around and around, taking in the patchy blue sky. “But the sky is clear enough.”
“It won’t be for long,” Davy said, looking her hard in the eye. He suddenly seemed years older. “Captain’s never wrong.”
Rose’s eyes widened as she turned and gazed out over the main deck at the frenzy of activity that had ensued. The crew hastened to carry out Tristan’s orders. With line in hand, Piper swung open the large cargo door cut into the floor of the main deck and jumped down into the hold. Then his head appeared again as he quickly pulled the door shut. She guessed he was using the line to secure the hatch. A short while later, he reappeared on deck, using the hatch that led to the sleeping cabins and galley.
Rose pressed her lips together in a firm line and tightened her fists as she marched down the stairs to join the men. The captain of the Messenger had given a command. Scanning the deck, she seized hold of extra line and began coiling the loose end. During a storm, unsecured line could lash out like a whip and entangle a crew member or flay their skin. Davy rushed past her, his arms full of the crew members’ affects, pallets and satchels, which he carried down below. Jacob’s muscles tightened and bulged as he seized the barrel of ale from under the stern and carried it across the main deck. Several arms suddenly stuck out from the hatch, taking the burden away from the ship’s strong man.
“Is there room for the water barrel?” Jacob barked.
Piper’s head and shoulders appeared above deck. “We still need to fit the table and chairs.” he said. “Tie the barrel down.”
Timothy pushed past Piper, thundering up from below. He darted among the men, handing out dried meat and hunks of bread in preparation for the battle to come.
She froze where she stood and stared up at the patchy blue sky. How could Tristan be certain a storm was heading their way? She closed her eyes and breathed deep the salty air. It was so calm. A shiver shot up her spine. Too calm. The sea shone like smooth glass. The wind held its breath.
And then it started.
The wind expelled its breath in a rush. Blue patches of sky shone bright—their last stand. Her nose wrinkled against the pungent scent suddenly released from deep inside the sea’s belly. The clouds dropped. She reached her hand to the sky, sure she could touch the graying masses that had begun to writhe and spread, darkening with every breath she took.
The wind barreled toward them with a blast that forced her back.
It was here.
Tristan shouted orders over the din of the howling gusts. She jumped in to lend a hand where she could, securing lines, tying down anything that could roll around the deck when the ship started to rock and dip. After helping Timothy pack up the uneaten food, she whirled around and ran right into Tristan.
He gripped her shoulders. “Go down below. Secure yourself in our cabin.”
