Chapter Twenty Five #2
Tristan’s calm never wavered despite Ian’s harsh tone. Rose’s heart swelled with pride. A lesser man would have escalated the situation by taking offense. But she knew Tristan understood that, despite his size, Ian was only one and twenty and a protective brother.
Tristan sat across from Ian, giving her brother his attention, and after Ramsay set down four tankards of ale, he sat on Tristan’s left.
Ian crossed his arms over his chest. “Start from the beginning, Rose.”
She expelled a slow breath, her mind suddenly racing. She lifted her shoulders. “I do not ken how to begin.”
Ian brought his tankard to his lips but paused to say, “Start from the last time I saw ye, waving to me from the shores of our home.”
Rose took a deep breath. “I took the skiff ye made me and sailed away from home.”
Ian stood, bumping the table and spilling the ale. “What do ye mean, ye sailed away from home?”
She knew it had been a foolhardy thing to do. Still his tone made her defensive. “I wanted to do something, something different. I wanted to go exploring,” she explained.
Ian raked his hand through his red hair. “Are ye telling me Jack let ye sail off on yer own?”
Guilt weighed on her conscience. Rose shifted in her seat. “I didn’t exactly ask him.”
“Ye mean ye just left? Ye didn’t tell anyone?”
Her eyes flashed with anger. “I would never do that. I left a note.”
Ian’s eyes, the same blue as hers, widened in surprise. “What do ye mean ye left a bleeding note?”
She squared her shoulders. “I wasn’t in my right mind.”
“Ye mean to tell me that right now Jack and the others have no idea where ye are?”
She winced a little thinking of her brothers who, she suddenly realized, were likely scouring the isles for her. “Nay, they do not know I am here, but we are due to set sail for home very soon.”
“We? Oh, aye,” Ian said, narrowing his eyes on Tristan. “The husband. How is it that ye and Rose have come to be married?” Ian asked, his voice raising louder with every word.
Ramsay stepped in then. “Ye need to calm down, Ian.”
Ian whirled on Ramsay with flashing blue eyes.
Ramsay thrust his hands out. “Don’t be getting all hot with me. I’m just trying to help. No good can come from ye losing yer temper again.”
Ian took a deep breath and sat down. He laced his fingers together on the table. “Tell me,” he said, calmly.
“Well—” Tristan started to say, but Ian interrupted him.
“Rose!” Ian snapped. “Tell me, Rose.”
She thrust a finger in Ian’s face. “Don’t snap at him.
Your anger is with me, but ‘tis misguided. I didn’t mean to hurt anyone.
I only did what ye told me to do. I made my own destiny.
I chose to set out from Colonsay, and I chose this man,” she said, redirecting her finger to point at Tristan.
“Ye could not find a finer man were ye to scour all of Scotland. Aye, he’s a sassenach, but his birth mother was Scottish.
He bears no love for Edward, or any noble for that matter, English or Scottish. ”
Ian stood up, his hands pressing flat on the table. “What I want to know is how ye came to be married.”
Rose threw her hands up. “I told ye, I set sail on my own.”
“And?” Ian pressed her.
“And I was surprised by a sudden storm. The wind split the mast, rendering me unconscious. When I awoke, I was onboard the Messenger.”
“Stop right there,” Ian said to Rose before turning to Tristan. “Now, ye may speak.”
Tristan’s face was composed as he began. “I am a merchant. Having finished my route through the Isles, my crew set our course for Cardiff, when we happened upon your sister drifting on the remains of a boat. She was feverish, near death, in fact. After three days, her fever broke, and she awoke.”
“Did ye wait a day until ye married her?” Ian barked.
“Ian, he’s telling ye how he saved my life and ye’re yelling at him,” Rose interjected.
“Ye could only have known each other a few days. And now ye’re married.”
Tristan cleared his throat. “In a manner of speaking.”
“What is that supposed to mean?” Ian snapped.
Rose put her hand in Tristan’s. “We fell in love, Ian. ‘Tis as simple as that. Now stop being such an arse. Tristan Thatcher is a good man.
Ian stiffened, his eyes wide. “Are ye Commodore Thatcher?”
Tristan nodded. “Now that my father has retired, I am Commodore Thatcher, but I still prefer the title of captain.”
Ian smiled. “Why didn’t ye say so in the first place.
I’m acquainted with Captain Bellerose. My brother, Quinn, sailed several voyages with the good captain.
He advised me to seek ye out, if ever I wanted my own contract.
He speaks very highly of ye and yer family.
In fact, I believe ye know our very dear friend, Abbot Matthew. ”
“I am indeed acquainted with the good abbot. I had the pleasure of meeting him in Berwick some years ago. Nearly ten now that I think on it. He had several messages for me to deliver in London.” Tristan offered Ian his hand, which he accepted straightaway.
As they shook hands, Tristan continued, “Rose has spoken of your interest in becoming a merchant.”
Ian nodded. “Indeed. We MacVies have long been sailors and fisherman. I am saving for a ship.”
“You will be happy to know that I already promised to replace the ship Rose lost—the one you built for her.”
Ian smiled. “That must please her, no doubt. Rose has always loved the sea. A wee skiff is just the—”
“He’s giving me the Messenger, Ian,” Rose said, interrupting. “’Tis a cog, the best in his fleet.”
Ian’s eyes lit up. “A cog! But...I...” His face beamed. “I cannot believe it. A cog!”
At that moment, Ramsay stood. “I’m sorry to break up yer reunion, but, Ian, ‘tis getting late.”
Immediately, Ian’s face grew serious. “Aye. Ye’re right.” He turned to Rose. “Forgive me. I must go. Ye understand, right?”
She nodded. Of course she did. He was in London for a purpose. Scotland needed him.
“Ye go ahead.” She raised her arms, and he scooped her into a hug. “Just ye be careful,” she whispered.
He nodded and smiled down at her. “Will ye meet me here at noon in two days’ time. I wish to see ye before ye sail home.”
She nodded. “I’ll be here. I promise.”
Ian kissed her on the cheek before he turned to Tristan. “Remember, I am one of five brothers. The others aren’t as nice as me.”
Kissing Rose on the cheek once more, he turned and followed Ramsay out the door.
Rose smiled at Tristan. “Well, now ye’ve met my youngest brother.”
Taking her hand, he leaned back in his chair and pulled her onto his lap. “That wasn’t too bad. He only tried to slit my throat.”
She laughed. “He was just trying to scare ye. MacVies aren’t murderers.”
Tristan cocked at brow at her. “Well, that’s comforting.” He wrapped his arms around her waist. “I have to ask, Rose. Why did you tell your brother that you set sail from Colonsay and not Jura?”
Her brows drew together. “Did I say that?”
He nodded. “You did.”
She winced. “I wasn’t perfectly honest when we first met, but in my defense, you were a stranger. Not knowing what sort of man you were, I didn’t want to tell you exactly where I lived. Just near enough so that after ye dropped me off, I could make my own way home.”
“That I can understand.” But, despite his apparent lack of concern, his brow furrowed.
“What is wrong then?” she asked.
“We have a problem. Now, it is not just my family who believes we are married.”
She touched her fingertips to her lips. “Ye’re right.” She groaned and rested her head on his shoulder. “Things just got even more complicated, didn’t they?”
“Aye, they did,” he said, imitating her accent. He pulled her close. “Aye, they did.”