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“Where are we going?” I asked, walking through the streets of the city with him. We’d come ashore and immediately went in the opposite direction of the brothel, where there was quite the rambunctious party going on. Ours wasn’t the only crew docked for the night, and it showed from the amount of men inside the sex-powered inn.
“To a friend,” he replied simply, looking me over. “He will be quite amazed to see a woman dressed as ye are.”
I wanted to ask him so badly if this friend was a Knight as well, but didn’t want to reveal what I knew. If he’d wanted me to know, he would have told me. As far as Tristan was concerned, I still thought he was a greedy pirate with a score to settle. It seemed better to just wait until he divulged the information to me, if he ever would.
“What is this friend’s name?”
“Brian O’Riley. He was a friend of my father’s, before he passed.”
“Oh, Tristan.” Unconsciously, I reached out and took his hand, squeezing gently. “You never told me that your father was dead.”
Looking back over his shoulder, he smiled tightly and pulled me closer, glancing around. “My mother, too. We probably shouldn’t touch each other like this until we’re out of public sight, though, aye?”
Nodding, I released him and stepped away, rubbing a hand over my face. Both parents dead. That was something we had in common.
A homesickness filled me as we walked the rest of the way in silence, the buildings around me washed out by the memories of my parents. The wounds were still so fresh, their losses so hurtful to me. I’d shoved them out of the way here, trying to survive and learn a new way of life. Now that I was settling in, I was reminded far too often that I was an orphan.
Finally, we left the city itself and journeyed down a dirt road, heading toward a few small firelights in the distance. As we neared, I could see that it was actually a nice sized house, with a stone fence around the perimeter and laughter coming from the inside. Tristan entered the yard with ease, taking my hand and pulling the hat from my head.
“Ye don’t need to hide yer sex here.” Smiling warmly, he leaned in and kissed me quickly, a hint of nervousness in his actions.
Moving up the steps, he knocked strongly on the front door, clutching my fingers tightly. After a moment, it opened, an older woman in a green dress staring at us questioningly. Half a second later, she was screaming as she launched herself through the opening and onto Tristan, wrapping her arms around his neck and kissing his cheeks repeatedly.
“Oh, Tristan, Tristan!” she cried, grabbing his face and looking at him. “Yer home! Brian? Brian! Tristan is here!” She yelled into the house, turning back to us with one of the happiest smiles I’d ever seen. It was then that her gaze landed on me, my hand grasped in Tristan’s. “Oh dear,” she said in shock, a hand going to her heart. “And who are ye, my dear?”
“This is Samantha Greene, Seanmháthair,” Tristan explained. “I’ve been helping her to get home.”
“I see,” she replied skeptically, looking me over with obvious astonishment and distaste. “Why are ye dressed as a lad, might I ask?”
“It’s a long story,” I answered, smiling tightly.
“Well, we love stories in this house,” she said encouragingly. “Come inside and we’ll get ye cleaned up and lookin’ proper. Ye can tell us all about it over dinner, aye?”
“Thank you very much,” I said, beaming brightly. “That sounds wonderful.”
She turned and hurried down the hall, calling something to someone I couldn’t see.
“Who is that?” I whispered to Tristan, stepping over the threshold with him.
“That’s my seanmháthair—my grandmother.”
Surprised into silence, I focused my attention back to the woman, watching her elegantly twisted white hair bounce around as she walked down the hall, heading for the stairs and barking out orders in a language I didn’t understand. With an awe I hadn’t expected, I realized I was looking at a queen. She’d been forced from her home and left a beggar, but somewhere along the way she’d obviously gotten back on her feet.
“After my grandda died, she married his best friend, Brian. He’s taken good care of her, aye? She wasn’t happy to move so far from my family in Spain, but they did what they had to. I always stop and see them when we make port here.”
“Who all is here?” I asked, wondering where the laughter I’d heard before came from.
“Some friends, I imagine. The servants, too. They don’t keep slaves, but Seanmháthair does enjoy having help.”
“Oh.” I was at a loss for words. He’d brought me home to meet the only family he had, a meeting I’d never expected or imagined.
“Come with me, lass,” his grandmother called, turning from her spot on the stairs and motioning for me to follow. “The bath is being drawn as we speak.”
“A bath,” I moaned, smiling happily. “Thank you so much.”
“There’s one for ye too, lad.” She nodded to Tristan. “Wash that stink off ye!”
“Aye, Gran.”
We trailed her up the white stairs, coming onto the second floor where she ordered Tristan into a room to the right. There were three doors here, and a hallway leading to the left, where it sounded like my bath was being drawn as well. “Dinner will be ready in two hours,” she told him sternly. “I’ll have ye lookin’ like a proper gentleman, not the sea rat ye do now, ye hear me?”
“Aye, Gran,” he answered again, chuckling. “I hear ye. I know how to wash myself, don’t worry.”
“Hmph. Clean up that cut. I’ll have Brian save ye some tobacco for the bruise.” She stared at him hard for another second before shooing him away, grabbing my arm and leading me down the hall.
“Poor lass,” she said conversationally. “To be stuck on a ship with the likes o’ that crew. Ye must be dying to be yerself again.”
“You could say that,” I agreed, excited for the bath she’d mentioned. “It’s definitely been a culture shock.”
“I can imagine!” She laughed loudly, stopping in front of the door at the end of the hall. “I’ll leave ye be to get undressed. I have to check on dinner, of course, and explain to the guests what’s going on. But, then I’ll be back to help ye wash, aye?”
“Oh, you don’t have to,” I rushed to say, but she held a hand up, silencing me.
“Ye are a guest in my house. Allow me to tend to ye properly.”
Blushing under her strong gaze, I nodded, letting her to open the door for me. As soon as I’d entered, she shut it, her footsteps disappearing down the hall.
My mouth popped open at the ornate room I’d been left in. There was a huge four-poster bed to the right, opposite a roaring fireplace that took up most of the wall to the left. Straight across from me was a large window, boasting views of the city and shoreline, though most of it couldn’t be seen in the darkness outside. Two women were filling the large tub sitting in front of the fireplace, sweat running down their faces and soaking into their dresses from the effort it took. Behind me, another girl entered, carrying two buckets of her own that she dumped into the basin.
“Do ye need help undressing, miss?” she asked, turning to me uncertainly, eyeing my pants and greasy hair.
“No, thank you,” I replied, watching them all look at me. Suddenly, it dawned on me why they were waiting around. “Oh!” Embarrassed, I turned my back to them and began to undress, folding my clothes up and setting them on the floor next to my boots. Tristan still had my hat.
Completely naked, I folded my arms across my chest and moved to face them, grimacing as I tried to smile in a friendly manner. While I wasn’t used to seeing people I’d just met in the nude, they apparently were, gathering up the buckets and moving past me, the last of them picking up my clothes, wrinkling her nose at the smell before leaving the room. With nothing else to do, and not wanting to be standing completely bare in front of an open window, I crossed the room and climbed into the tub, sighing as the almost
boiling hot water covered my skin and set to work on my sore muscles.
After a few moments of bliss, there was a knock at the door and Tristan’s grandmother entered, alone, smiling happily. “How are ye feeling?”
“Hot water does wonders for the soul,” I mumbled, and she laughed, coming to sit by me.
“That it does. Would ye like me to wash yer hair for ye now?” She stared at me expectantly, graciously keeping her gaze on my face and not on the rest of my body.
“I don’t want to offend,” I started carefully, looking for any signs of annoyance from her. “But I’ve never had anyone wash my hair before, not since my mother, anyway. I’d feel terrible letting someone like you do it for me.”
“Someone like me?” Her eyebrow raised and I instantly saw that I’d worded it wrong.
“Oh, no, I didn’t mean it like that! It’s just, well, Tristan told me a little of his family history. I’d feel uncomfortable knowing a—a queen was washing my hair. I feel like I should be washing yours for you.”
She blinked, her face going blank for a second before she burst into mirth again. “Lass, I’m no queen. I haven’t been for forty-five years now. But, even when I was, I knew how to take care of a guest.” She set to work then, as if that settled everything, scooping water out of the tub with a smaller bucket she’d brought up and dumped it over my head. As she began lathering the rough soap into my hair, I groaned, relaxing back and letting her do as she would.
“Yer mother’s dead,” she said as she worked. “That’s what ye meant, aye? How long has it been?”
Counting the months up in my head, I sighed, closing my eyes. “Almost a year. It feels like she was just here yesterday.”
“I know the feeling,” she said sympathetically, moving from my hair to my shoulders, rubbing the knots away. “It’s been thirty years since my husband passed and it still feels like yesterday sometimes. And yer father?”
“He died a couple months ago.”
She remained silent, her touch softening some. After a few moments, she cleared her throat. “I’m sorry. Ye’ve not had an easy year, it would seem.”
“No,” I laughed, feeling the hot prickle of tears gathering in my eyes. “I haven’t, I guess.”
Silence fell between us as she filled the bucket again, helping to rinse out my hair several times before she offered me the soap so I could wash the rest of my body. As I did, she rose, moving to the window and looking out over everything there was to see.
“Ye know, Tristan has never brought a woman with him when he’s come to see us before. Yer something special to him, aye?”
“I don’t know,” I answered honestly. “He’s been my protector this whole time. He might just want to keep me away from the crew when I don’t need to be around them.”
“Maybe.” She continued to stare out the window and I watched her, trying to guess what she was thinking. “I’ve never seen him hold a lass’s hand either, not since his ma.” Turning, she smiled at me before moving toward the door. “I’ll send one of the girls up to help ye dress in a bit. Take yer time washing off.”
“Thank you,” I said again. “Um, I’m sorry, but I don’t know your name. I’m assuming it isn’t Gran, or that word Tristan used that I can’t pronounce.”
She chuckled, opening the door wide and looking down the hall. “Dierdre O’Riley. But ye may call me Gran. Everyone here does.” Moving swiftly, she exited the room, calling to someone about the food, and I was left alone once more.
My solitude didn’t last long as the three women from before returned, one intent on helping me dress while the other two emptied the bath water. Drying off, I watched them, feeling slightly guilty for having put them out.
“Are you ready to dress, miss?” Turning, I examined the gown laid out on the bed for me and groaned at the sight of the corset.
“As ready as I’ll ever be,” I answered, crossing the room and picking up the slip.
Thirty minutes later, I found myself trying to breathe as I gazed at the pretty yellow skirts, decorated with blue stitching. The corset was dyed to match, hugging me painfully tight, but still beautiful. The jacket was more or less just yellow sleeves that hung off my shoulders, with white lace that flared out around my elbows.
The woman who’d helped me dress now fixed my hair, twisting it to the side and pinning it, using the heat of the fire to help dry the damp strands. Finally, I was announced presentable and told I could join the family downstairs at dinner. As if she’d been waiting outside the door for this statement, Gran reappeared in the room, appraising me thoughtfully.
“Ye look beautiful,” she said happily. “Like a proper lady.”
Smiling, I remembered the time her grandson had said that to me, happy to know where that particular phrase had come from.
“Thank you. The dress is wonderful.”
“It was nothing,” she said, waving her hand in dismissal. “I’ve had yer other clothes sent for wash, though. I imagine ye’ll be needing them again, unfortunately.”
Self-conscious, I nodded, feeling the blush rise in my face as she continued to stare at me like she was contemplating buying me.
“Come then,” she ordered, motioning for me to follow her. “Dinner is waiting.”