Chapter Sixteen
Rose took a deep breath, trying desperately to remain calm. Familiar arguments rushed to the fore of her thoughts.
She was a woman grown, not an inexperienced maid.
She and Tristan had an understanding, a business arrangement, and more than that they were becoming friends. Steeling her shoulders, she turned, and tried to appear entirely unaffected by his suggestion to retire for the night.
Tristan offered her his arm. They descended the stairs to the main deck together, but when they reached the open hatch, he held back. “You go ahead to our room. I have some things I need to take care of, which should allow you time to get...er...more comfortable.”
“Thank ye,” Rose said. With a brief curtsy, she turned and headed down the stairs to the captain’s quarters.
She shut the door behind her and leaned her back against the slatted wood.
Her heart hammered in her chest. She closed her eyes and saw Tristan’s handsome face: his warm, amber brown eyes and full, sensual lips.
She touched her cheek, remembering his gentle caress when they had stood aloft in the crow’s nest, she nestled safely in his arms while the sea stretched out around her, endless and teeming with life.
“Not helping,” she said out loud, as she pushed away from the door. If she was to make it through another night with Tristan stretched out alongside her, his robust body pressed tight—“Enough,” she snapped at herself.
Seething with frustration and stifled passion, she yanked on the hem of her surcote, but it didn’t slide off like her usual clothing.
Remembering the laces, she reached behind her, but the knot was cinched tight.
After several minutes passed and plenty of tugging and pulling, she finally loosened the knot.
But when she lifted her thick outer layer, it still wouldn’t budge.
Straining, she tried to reach the laces higher up her back.
“Blast,” she cursed.
Bending over, she twisted her arm behind her and managed to loosen the first several, but she couldn’t reach higher. She twisted and turned and bent and cursed until she finally fell aback into an exhausted heap on the bed. A moment later, a knock sounded.
“Come in,” she groaned. “Oh, please come in.”
TRISTAN OPENED THE door and rushed inside when he spotted Rose lying on the bed, panting.
“Are you all right?” He pressed his hand to her forehead. “You’re burning up.”
“I’m not sick,” she groaned. “I’m stuck.”
“What do you mean you’re stuck?”
“’Tis this blasted surcote. I’m caged within it. A prisoner, I tell ye, and I’ve surrendered. Ye’d best get used to copper because it’s never coming off.” `
He smiled down at her. “This is why women of means have serving maids. I will hire one on when we reach France.”
She sat up. “Don’t ye dare. I could never ask someone to wait on me. Anyway, ‘tis foolhardy to wear clothing ye can’t take off yerself.”
He offered her his hand. “Then allow me to help you.”
She swallowed hard. “Ye’re going to help me undress?”
He raised a brow at her. “Unless you would prefer one of the crew, young Davy or maybe Piper.”
Her eyes widened. She scrambled off the bed. “Ye’ll do.”
“You can trust me to be a perfect gentleman,” he promised.
Slowly, with a pained expression on her face, she turned, allowing him access to her back...her slim, elegant back.
He cleared his throat and steeled his shoulders.
Then with one hand, he swept her thick, copper mane over her shoulder.
Her hair felt like silk to touch. He took a deep breath and reached out.
He hooked his fingers underneath the bottom laces, located just inches from her magnificent, round derriere.
Forcing his hand to stay on course, he gave a little tug.
Slowly, he inched higher and higher. His gaze traced over the curve of her neck.
His lips parted. He longed to kiss the hollow of her throat and draw her earlobe into his mouth.
He wanted to taste every inch of her creamy white skin.
His heart hammered in his chest as he loosened the final lace.
Tension gripped his shoulders. His hands twitched in protest as he dropped his arms to his side.
“I...” He paused to clear his throat, forcing out the words he had no wish to utter.
“I believe you should be able to manage from here.” He opened the door and stepped into the hallway.
It hurt to leave her side. His body ached for her.
“I have some things I need to take care of. I won’t return for some time,” he said stiffly before he shut the door and barreled up the stairs. But his heart and mind screamed at him to go back. He turned around and rushed back to his cabin and grabbed the handle.
“What are you doing?” He said out loud. He shook his head, backing away from the door. He was a man of honor, she a woman of honor. “Damnation,” he cursed and thundered up the stairs, nearly colliding with the ship’s surgeon.
“Where are you storming off to, Captain?”
“There are just a few things that require my attention,” he said, straining to keep his voice level.
William shook his head. “I’ve been married for thirty-five years now.
I know a lovers’ quarrel when I see one.
” He rested his hand on Tristan’s shoulder.
“Trust me, Captain. Whatever it is, you can’t walk away from it—it will only be waiting for you upon your return.
” His eyes crinkled when he smiled at Tristan encouragingly.
“Go to your wife and make amends. No matter who is at fault, just tell the dear girl you’re sorry, and all will be right. ”
Tristan’s hands clenched into tight fists as he resisted the urge to flatten William against the wall and push past him, but Tristan knew William would never relent. He was a sentimental and stubborn old man.
Tristan scrubbed his hand over his face as he railed against every instinct screaming inside his brain. “Fine,” he snapped, then stormed back down the stairs and stood in front of his door again.
“Take a few steadying breaths,” William cautioned, peering down from the hatch.
“Heed my warning, William,” Tristan growled. “Take yourself to another part of the ship.”
William’s eyes widened before he nodded and sidestepped out of Tristan’s view.
Tristan turned his gaze back to the door and took several deep breaths. On the other side, awaited the most beautiful and admirable woman he had ever known. He flexed his neck from side to side.
He could do this.
All he had to do was sleep next to Rose in the narrowest bed in all Christendom and not touch her...not weave his fingers through her silken red curls or taste her full lips or grab her taut thighs and spread them apart and—”
Enough, his mind screamed.
He swung open the door, his heart racing, his breaths coming in great heaves.
Rose lay in bed with the blankets pulled up under her chin, her eyes wide. “Ye accomplished yer many things quickly enough.”
He shut the door behind him. “There were fewer than I thought.” He stood, staring down at her. He longed to rip the covers back, pull her into his arms, and show her just how hot he burned for her. Swallowing the curse that rushed up his throat, he turned and raked his hand through his hair.
Then he whirled back around. “May I,” he said, standing close to the bed. He could hear the strain in his own voice.
She nodded, the blanket still tucked under her chin.
He lay down. Her whole body pressed against the side of his. The contact was unavoidable and pure torture.
He blew out the candle. The darkness felt thick and heavy. All he could hear were their quick breaths. His body ached with a need so great he thought he might explode. Never had he wanted a woman so badly.
“I lied today,” she suddenly said.
He froze.
“I barely slept at all last night.”
Her words caressed him in the dark. The ache in his chest grew tenfold. “Neither did I,” he rasped.
Moments passed. Their confessions hung suspended in the darkness, surrounding them.
“I do not think I will sleep again,” she whispered.
He swallowed hard, gripping the blanket in a death lock. “Neither will I.”
Then he drew a deep breath, fighting for control. Releasing the blanket, he closed his hand gently over hers. Her fingers trembled in his grasp. Slowly, he brought her hand to his lips and pressed a kiss to her palm. He heard her breath catch.
“Goodnight, Rose,” he said, his voice strained.
“Goodnight, Tristan.”
Tension filled the room, making it difficult to draw breath. He held tight to her hand and prayed for the dawn.