Page 59

CHAPTER THREE

T he ropes had burned her tender hands.

Rigging was a man’s work, Tresta knew, but she had been doing it for the better part of two hours and she was becoming quite adept at it. The Michael had a deck crew, a hold crew, a captain, four officers that she could count, and a surgeon with a hugely red face and bulbous nose. The deck crew was the largest and she had lost herself in the smelly group of men just before the ship dropped moorings and weighed anchor. She presumed, and hoped, that Teague would continue looking for her in the hold, convinced she would not dare present a presence on deck. She had wagered that she would be right and he would be wrong.

So, she joined the mass of men lashing the moorings and hoisting sails. Not strong enough for the truly heavy work, she took direction from the menacing boat master and focused on securing the rope once the sails had been lifted. Then someone had handed her a bucket of water with some type of lye in it for cleaning the decks, and she had found a corner of the deck and begun scrubbing the sea-worn wood. It had taken her out of the traffic and into a task where no one would bother her. When the ship left the mouth of the Thames and entered the open channel, she had finally breathed a sigh of relief.

Teague could not send her home now.

After a half-hour on the open water, her relief at not being discovered by her husband had turned into nausea induced by the rolling of the waves. Tresta’s fear of becoming ill on the boat was realized as the movement was beginning to make her ill. She stopped scrubbing long enough to sit back against the rail of the ship, breathing in the chill sea wind and hoping it would settle her stomach. The boat master chose that moment to walk past her.

“Get back to work, ye loafer!” he bellowed.

Startled, swallowing the bile in her throat, she went back to scrubbing the wood. With every stroke, her stomach lurched further. She finally ended up hanging over the rail, watching the bits of brown bread she had eaten disappear into the churning water below. The coughing also returned, completing her miserable situation. She coughed and gagged over miles of ocean.

This was the way Teague found her.

“No sea legs yet?” he asked softly.

She looked up to see him leaning casually over the rail next to her. She wiped her mouth, trying not to appear too disheveled.

“Not yet,” she said with as much confidence as she could muster. “But I am sure I will be fine soon.”

His brown eyes glittered at her. She had expected him to be furious with her at their second meeting aboard ship. Instead, he was inordinately gentle. It was the Teague she knew, the man she loved with all her being.

“Mayhap,” he said quietly. “Let us go down below and get you out of this sun.”

He went to take her hand but remembered where they were. She was dressed like a peasant boy and he was acutely aware of the situation at hand. Instead, he clamped a hand on her shoulder and directed her towards the hold.

It was dark and smelly on the second level. It was also crowded, full of bodies and sweat. Tresta felt the bile rise in her throat again and she put a hand to her mouth, holding back the dry heaves that threatened. Teague’s grip lessened, became reassuring, as they moved forward in the hold. They were just approaching amidships when they came across the men from Snow Hill.

It was a cozy area they had staked out, sectioned off with coarse, heavy linen drapes. The material drifted with the sway of the ship as Teague pulled back the curtain and ushered his wife into the cramped section. Hallam, Gilbert, Tarran, William, and Sheen were in various positions about the space, glancing at the newest arrival without much surprise.

Hallam leapt up to greet his sister, kissing both of her hands. She smiled wanly at him as Teague made sure to pull the drapes together to allow some privacy.

“Meet my new squire,” he said to his men in a tone that suggested they understand him clearly. “Master Johnny, at least until we get to France.”

Hallam continued to hold his sister’s hands. “She looks ill, Teague,” he said with concern. “Where did you find her?”

“Hanging over the rail, losing what was left of my meal,” Tresta answered for her husband, pulling off her cap and allowing her copper-colored hair to tumble to her waist. “When will we reach land?”

Teague lifted an eyebrow at her in an expression that implied she would not like the answer. “By tomorrow.”

Tresta thought of the hours she would have to spend at sea, ill. But still, never did she think that following her husband had been a bad idea.

“And then where do we go?” she asked.

Teague looked at her. He was about to explain the logistics of things, that they would continue on and she would return to England, but he thought better of it. It would only create a massive argument and it would not do to have a hysterical female on board a ship that was only supposed to be filled with men.

“Later,” he said as he motioned to her. He was standing next to the hammock his men had strung for him. “Come over here and rest for now.”

She made her way over to him, intentionally stepping on Tarran as she did so. The knight came away with a pinched finger but didn’t utter a sound. Teague lifted her up and plopped her onto the swinging hammock.

“Be still and rest,” he said.

Tresta was not yet ready to lie still. “Where are Simon and Channing?”

“With the squires.”

“Where is that?”

“Outside, against the bulkhead.”

“Bring them in here,” she told him. “They’re just boys. They should not be out in the midst of men and knights that we do not know. There is no telling what may happen to them.”

As always, the protective mother, even when the children were not here own. Teague gestured with an impatient nod of his head to William, who lifted his big, hairy body off the floor and went in search of the younger boys.

“William will check on their welfare,” he said. “Have no worries. Close your eyes and rest.”

“Teague?”

“Aye, sweet?”

“Are you angry with me?”

He pecked her on the end of the nose. “I am not going to have a discussion with you right now. Rest and we shall speak later.”

Amazingly, she did as she was told and closed her eyes. Teague stood there, watching his wife’s lovely face as her features relaxed. When he was sure she was asleep, he motioned for Hallam, Gilbert and Sheen to follow him. Leaving Tarran with his resting wife, he took his men up on deck.

The waves were rolling as the sun set. Whitecaps burst upon the crests of the waves and kicked spray up on the deck. Overhead, the seagulls sailed upon the wind, following the ship on its journey out to sea. Teague leaned back against the rail, turning to his men. He had much on his mind.

“Obviously, I did not anticipate my charming wife attending me on this voyage,” he said, watching Gilbert and Sheen struggle with the grins that threatened. “Be that as it may, she is here. When we land at Calais, it is my intention to send her home with one of you as escort to make sure that she does not try to follow me again. This man will stay with her for the duration of my absence.”

The grins faded from Gilbert and Sheen’s faces. Hallam looked around nervously, fearing it would be him. His will was weaker than his sister’s and feared what would become of her should he be charged with her welfare.

“Hallam,” Teague said.

Startled, Hallam nearly shouted. “Aye?”

The corners of Teague’s mouth twitched. He knew what the man was thinking. “Not you, lad,” he said. “I prefer you with me. Besides, your sister would find a way to tie you up, leave you to rot, and come after me.”

Hallam visibly relaxed. As he did so, Gilbert and Sheen stiffened, knowing it could be either one of them next. Teague turned to them.

“Sheen, you shall also stay with me, as shall Gilbert,” he said. “I do not want to lose William for his sheer size and strength, which leaves Tarran to take the duty.”

Gilbert and Sheen exchanged glances. They all knew that Tarran had had an eye for Lady Tresta years ago, but he’d kept it well hidden. He’d never acted upon it. Tresta, however, had always shown an unusual dislike for the knight. Any feelings had clearly never been reciprocated and, over the years, the animosity between them had been obvious. Putting those two together would be like putting two wet cats in a bag.

“Teague,” Sheen began. “Let me take her back. I’m probably the only man who can handle her properly, next to you. She would just end up fighting with Tarran the entire time and exhaust them both. That would not be a pleasant match in the least.”

Teague put a hand on his brother’s shoulder. “Though I appreciate your suggestion, you will understand when I say that I would rather you stay with me.”

“Why?”

Teague’s expression changed to one of irritation that his brother would question him. “Because I would. These are my wishes.”

Sheen’s dark eyes flashed. “So you do not trust me to protect your wife?”

“I would trust her life to you without question and you are well aware of that,” he said. “Your skill as a warrior is without question. But leaving you in charge of Snow Hill, without my watchful eye, would be like placing the fox in charge of the henhouse. You would run through my food, my alcohol, and my money without thought and I would return to a barren home and a starving family.”

Sheen’s jaw ticked dangerously but he said nothing. Teague had always been inordinately fair with him, even when had stolen from his brother to pay a tavern bill. Teague should have disowned him many a time, but still, his brother remained loyal to him.

Seeing Sheen defeated, Gilbert spoke up. “My lord, then allow me to escort Lady Tresta home,” he said. “I will guard her with my life until your return.”

Teague shook his head. “I would miss your sword too much, Gilbert. For this endeavor, I would have you by my left hand.”

Gilbert eyed him. “But if you will pardon me, my lord, Tarran is a better warrior than all of us combined,” he said. “Will you not need him for this quest over any of us?”

Teague’s mouth formed a weak smile. “Tarran du Reims is a magnificent warrior, the very finest England has to offer,” he said. “And do not think that I am not aware of what you are all thinking. Tarran realized many years ago that he could never have Tresta. Whatever he thought he felt for her years ago… it was nothing more than a fascination. He has never given me any reason to mistrust him when it comes to my wife. Because he is the best warrior of all of us, I trust him to take my wife back home and to ensure that she does not attempt to follow me again. And given the fact that she has a particular dislike for Tarran, and he for her, she would not try to use her feminine wiles to sway him as she would with the rest of you.”

It made sense as Teague explained it. The knights looked at him, at each other, and silently agreed with him. There was no other course unless they wanted a woman tagging along all the way to The Levant.

“As you say, my lord,” Hallam said. “But who is to tell him?”

Teague lifted an eyebrow. “Never mind him. Who is to tell her? ”