Chapter Fifteen #2
“Ah, yes,” Tristan said, tearing his eyes away from Rose to look at his cook who had made a special appearance on deck. “What is it, Timothy?”
“Just as you instructed, I’ve set a table on the stern castle for you and the misses.”
Tristan smiled and turned to Philip. “You know what needs to be done. Excuse me for now. I’m having dinner with my wife.”
Tristan descended the steps all the while keeping his gaze trained on Rose.
Even in Simon’s hose and worn tunic, she had radiated beauty.
Now, clad in silk and jewels, she stole his breath.
The colors brought out the dark copper flecks in her hair and brightened her skin.
He reached her side and brought her hand to his lips. “You look magnificent.”
“Thank ye,” she said, adjusting the belt over her hips. “I won’t lie. It was no small task to put on. I’ve never had to tie such long laces,” she said, showing him the back of her surcote. She smiled as she turned back around. “But the silk feels heavenly on my skin. ‘Tis as soft as a baby’s bum.”
Her smile made Tristan’s heart warm. She deserved the finery she wore. If wealth were given by measure of goodness, he imagined Rose would be as wealthy as any queen. He offered her his arm.
“Shall I escort you to our table?”
He led her across the deck. Piper’s grin stretched from ear to ear when he bowed, and when they passed Jacob he just stared, his mouth agape.
Tristan glanced at her and was surprised to note the discomfort on her face. The smile she wore did not meet her eyes.
“What is the matter?” he asked.
“I feel ridiculous, like a chicken dressed to look like a peacock.”
He stopped and motioned to Davy who set his bucket and rag down and hurried over.
“In the chest under my bed is a small looking glass. Please bring it to me,” he said. When Davy darted away, he led her up the stairs to the stern castle, where a table sat with two trenchers, one piled high with fried kippers and another teeming with stewed apples.
She smiled. “Why, ‘tis our wedding feast!”
He pulled back the chair and helped her sit before he claimed the one across from hers. “You did say the more truth to our story the better. Now, when my father asks how the kippers were, you can honestly say...”
She smiled and selected one of the crispy strips of fish and took a bite. “They’re delicious,” she said, hiding a mouthful behind her hand. She swallowed and took a sip of ale. Then she asked with a wink, “but what of the stuffed game bird?”
Tristan sat across from her. “The crew came back empty handed from their hunt,” he jested. “We’ll just have to enjoy some stuffed pheasant when we get to France.”
“What will we do when we arrive in Calais?”
“Our hull is packed with wool and lumber, which we will trade for wine from the Bordeaux region and olive oil that should be waiting for us from a Venetian merchant. There is also a merchant guild’s dinner, should you like to attend.
” A shadow crossed her face, and her gaze dropped to the floor.
“Or we could have a quieter stay,” he said quickly.
Her eyes brightened. “I would prefer that. I’m nervous enough about meeting yer family. I would rather not be introduced to anyone else if it can be avoided.”
“Agreed,” he said. Then he considered their choices. “I will think upon how we shall spend our brief time there.”
Just then Davy came bounding up the steps. He handed Tristan a silver handled looking glass before bowing and making his way back down to the main deck. Tristan stood and circled around to her side of the table. Then he held the mirror in front of her face.
Rose gasped, then closed her eyes. “That woman cannot be me.”
“Take a good look,” he insisted, crouching behind her to see over her shoulder.
She opened her eyes. At first her expression showed her discomfort, but then her features relaxed and softened. Slowly, a smile curved her lips, then widened until her reflection beamed back at them both.
“You are beautiful,” he said softly.
Through the mirror, she met his gaze. “Thank ye,” she replied, her voice barely a whisper.
“You needn’t thank me,” he said. “I owe you my life, Rose. Remember that.” Then he motioned to the full trenchers. “With this wind, the food will not stay warm for long.”
She pinched an apple between her fingers and popped it in her mouth, moaning softly while she chewed. “Delicious,” she said. Just then the wind grew even stronger. She closed her eyes and lifted her face to the forceful breeze. “We are keeping an incredible pace.”
“Indeed, we are,” he said. “If the wind holds, we could be in Calais earlier than planned.”
She looked south where dark clouds marred the distant horizon and flashes of lightning brightened the sky. “Are ye concerned about that storm.”
He shook his head. “This wind will keep pushing those clouds south, ahead of us. We should enjoy a calm night, which means a restful sleep for everyone.”
Well, almost everyone.
He quickly forced his thoughts away from sleep. “More kippers?” he said, motioning to the trencher.
When they finished their mock wedding feast, they took several turns around the deck before Tristan was called away to organize the crew for the night.
Before too long, the silvery moon rose in the sky.
Rose stared up at the kindred orb, but she realized, at that moment, her own inner light had changed.
It no longer flickered cold and austere.
Now, she felt as though embers glowed warm inside her heart.
“We should probably turn in for the night,” Tristan said, coming up to stand beside her.
Her hands gripped the railing at the mention of sleep. Nay, she was neither cool like the moon nor warm like smoldering embers.
Desire burned inside her with the heat of a thousand suns.