Page 7 of Rose
“You should know that the men are talking,” Robert warned. “They fear she is a bad omen. Some worry she’s a silky or a lost princess.”
Tristan arched a brow at him. “Would a princess wear homespun wool and have calloused palms?”
“These are not my fears,” Robert said. “She is clearly a commoner, although there is nothing common about her appearance. She’s beautiful.”
“Striking,” Tristan said absently. He could hardly tear his eyes away. He hung on her every breath, waiting, praying for her to take her next one. “I would like to stay with her.”
“I’m afraid you must step outside into the hall,” Robert replied, drawing his gaze. “I’ve made a fresh poultice for her chest that should aid her breathing. There is simply not room for two men in here.”
Tristan scanned his close quarters. Robert was right, of course. He hated to go, but he knew she needed the surgeon’s skills. Leaning over her, his lips grazed her ear as he whispered, “Fight on.” Then he pushed against the bed to stand. He squeezed past Robert but hesitated in the doorway. Looking back, he said, “Do everything you can to save her.”
Robert nodded. “I will do my best.”
Tristan stepped into the hallway and renewed his pacing, but several minutes later, he stopped, knowing he was going to drive himself mad. He peered into his room. “I’m going aloft,” he said. “Fetch me if her condition changes.”
His gaze settled once more on her lovely face. Praying it was not the last time he saw her alive, he forced himself to close the door before heading up to the main deck.
