Page 67 of Rose
Chapter Twenty Five
Tristan left his white horse with Darby and walked hand in hand with Rose through the courtyard of the Thatcher fortress. Just as he lifted his foot to mount the first step, Rose stopped and gripped his hand tighter. “I don’t know if I can go back in there. I can’t face Iris.”
Her outburst mirrored his own reluctance. He turned and cupped her cheek, bringing his forehead down to hers. “Then I will take ye to my own house in town, and in a few days, we sail for Scotland.”
Tears stung her eyes. “But I don’t want that either, Tristan.” Her voice cracked. “I will miss you terribly.”
He pulled away just enough to look hard into her eyes. “Do not speak as if all this is over. This is not goodbye,” he vowed.
She buried her face in his neck.
He stroked his hand down her hair. “I prayed to the sea for an answer,” he rasped. “And it sent you to me on a wave.”
She pulled back and looked up into his amber eyes. “I dreamt once, when I was just a wee lass, that love would come to me from the sea.”
He froze, his lips a breath from hers. “Love?” he whispered. His heart pounded. “Do you love me, Rose?”
~ * ~
Rose opened her mouth to answer, but then the door to the hall flew open and Elizabeth burst upon them. “Oh, Tristan and Rose, mother and I have had such a wonderful idea! Please come inside.”
Elizabeth stepped quickly down the stairs and hooked arms with Rose, pulling her toward the doors. Rose glanced back at Tristan, her confession of truest love unspoken on her lips.
“It was really my idea,” Elizabeth said excitedly. “And I made certain Darby watched for you to alert us of your return so that I could tell you as soon as possible. I can scarcely hold it in.”
Rose lifted the hem of her tunic with her free hand as Elizabeth nigh sprinted toward the family solar, pulling Rose behind.
“Calm yourself, dear sister,” Tristan called out. “You are liable to trip and send Rose sprawling to the ground.”
Elizabeth dropped Rose’s arm just outside the solar and burst through the door. “They are here!”
Rose stopped and turned, reaching to take Tristan’s hand. “What is going on?” she hissed.
He lifted his shoulders. “I have no idea.”
Iris and Owen stood, when Rose and Tristan entered.
“Have you told them?” Iris said quickly to Elizabeth.
Elizabeth shook her head. “It nearly killed me, but I held my tongue just like you asked.”
Iris smiled. “Good girl.” Then she turned and looked at Tristan and Rose and motioned to the chairs near the hearth. “Do sit down. Your father and I have something we would like to propose.”
Rose groaned inside. She wasn’t sure her heart could handle another proposal.
Owen smiled at Rose as he sat in the chair across from hers. “I wish to apologize. I did not give you a very warm welcome.”
Rose shook her head. “Nay, Commodore Thatcher, ye needn’t—”
“What? Apologize?” he said, interrupting her. “On the contrary, I must, but that is only the beginning of what I must say to you. But first, if I might digress—please call me Father, or if it suits you, you may call me Papa like Elizabeth.” Owen’s eyes glinted as he held her gaze expectantly.
She gripped the arms of her chair, guilt twisting her stomach.
“Will ye do that for me?” Owen asked.
She nodded. “I will, Commodore.”
“Commodore? Who is that?” he said with a wink.
