Page 68 of Rose
Her face warmed. “I meant…Papa.” The word tore through her heart. How she hated to lie to him.
Tristan squeezed her hand before he started to stand. “We’ve had a very long day. Perhaps whatever you wish to tell us can wait until the morning? Rose is tired and—”
“No!” Elizabeth burst out. Her hand flew in front of her mouth. She blushed pink to match her tunic. “Forgive my outburst. I just could never sleep if we waited,” she said, nigh bouncing out of her chair.
Iris cleared her throat. “Please sit back down, Tristan.”
Tristan looked at Rose with apologetic eyes before reclaiming his seat.
Iris scooted to the front of her chair, her face beaming. “What Elizabeth is desperately trying not to say…is that—”
“We have all come to admire you, Rose,” Tristan’s father said, interrupting. “We wish to apologize for our cold welcome.” Owen shifted his gaze to his son. “I never should have betrothed you to that woman. I was blinded by ambition. Rose has more worth in her small finger than the whole Roxwell bloodline.”
“I accept your apology,” Tristan said, standing. He bowed to his father. “Thank you.” Then he reached for Rose. “And now, we really must retire.”
“No,” Elizabeth screeched. “We’re not done!”
“The one regret we have,” Iris began, “is that we were not able to be present on your wedding day.”
“And we were thinking,” Tristan’s father said, taking over, “since you were married at sea that—”
“That we could throw you a proper wedding and have it solemnized at church,” Elizabeth blurted, then fell back into her seat, breathless.
Rose froze.
Tristan froze.
Iris’s gaze darted from one dazed face to the other. “Well, aren’t either of you going to say anything?”
Rose could barely draw breath.
Tristan cleared his throat. “You would like to have our marriage blessed by the church?”
“Precisely,” Owen boomed happily.
Rose’s mind started to spin and her heart pound. It was one thing to pretend to be married for a few short weeks to protect Tristan and his father. It was just a wee lie with the best intentions at heart. But to have their false union blessed by God and all the saints at church! That was blasphemy! That meant damnation!
Rose jumped to her feet. “Mistress and Commodore Thatcher, there is something I must confess.”
“Rose,” Tristan said behind her.
She didn’t turn. “Nay, Tristan. The time has come.”
“Yes,” he said softly. “The timehascome.”
She turned around and gasped. Tristan was on one knee. Her heart lodged in her throat. He reached out and held her hands. “Rose,” he began, his eye shining with warmth. “Will you marry me, Rose…truly.”
Her hand flew to her heart. “Truly?” she whispered.
A slow smile curved his lips. “With all my heart, I ask you to be mine.”
Tears stung her eyes. She threw her arms around his neck. “Aye! I will marry ye, Tristan.” She pulled away and cupped his cheeks. “I love ye so dearly.”
“I love you,” he said. Then his lips seized hers, filling her once empty heart to the brim.
Elizabeth jumped up and down, clapping. “This is so wonderful. It is almost like being there when he first proposed to you, Rose.”
Tristan’s lips pulled a breath away from hers. “This proposal was even better,” he said, smiling.
Rose threw her arms around his neck. “So much better,” she squealed.
