The Spaniard's Bride

Thirteen

Isoba had woken Roseanne up early the next morning with a loud bang.

Roseanne had been married all of twenty-four hours and already her husband was ready to go back to Spain. He had been gone for nearly four months— longer than any King should be in his country.

It was about time that both he and his bride return to his people.

"Up, your highness. We have long journey ahead of us." He barked. His voice was rough and heavily accented. He was a terrifying individual— towering high above her with heavy, building muscles, various scars and dark eyes.

"But I am tired." She complained, turning over on her side.

She wasn't used to getting up early.

"We have long trip ahead of us. Get up!" He barked again, pulling her by her arm.

Roseanne finally obliged, forcing herself out of bed, "Must you be so rude about it? I am your queen, after all."

Isoba huffed, "Not yet."

The door shut behind him with a loud bang. Roseanne shook her head.

She knew he was right, for she was not yet officially the Queen of Spain but she still deserved the respect of a Queen.

After all, this was her home.

She had a maid gather her things, placing them in large boxes and then taking them down to the carriage.

She dressed, picking the finest dress she had. Roseanne had found that dressing up for her husband was her new favorite pastime. She loved to make him notice her.

Roseanne found herself walking gracefully down the stairs, her dress trailing behind her.

"Let us go, Roseanne. The ship is waiting for us and we have a schedule to follow." Alvaro said, a stoic expression plastered on his face.

Her heart sank, slightly, at his harsh tone. All she wanted was for him to notice how she had dressed up.

She followed him begrudgingly into the carriage and later onto the ship, as any good wife would. They took their quarters in the lower section of the ship.

The bed, which had been built in a small corner, was smaller than she was used to and lumper. She knew the travels to Spain would not be easy but she at least expected a little more comfort than this. She had to do what she had to do.

"I must go check on the arrangements of the ship, Roseanne. Stay down here within the room for your safety." Alvaro said, before leaving her room.

She fell back into the bed with a heavy sigh, "So much for that."

A small knock brought her attention back to the real world. Roseanne sat up and looked at the man standing in the doorway.

He bowed at her, lowly, as if she were officially a Queen, "Your majesty."

Roseanne couldn't force herself to speak. All she could do was stare at her brother's best friend, "What are you doing here, Jason?"

Jason came forward and sat beside her, "I made a promise to your brother to protect you, so here I am."

"Jason!" She cried, pushing his arm, "You are certainly not following me all the way to Spain!"

"You cannot stop me." He said, calmly as he crossed his arms over his chest.

She stood and stamped her foot, "I demand that you leave!"

Jason's smile widened, "Of course, your majesty." He bowed deeply but paused half way down, "I will remind you, however, that the ship has already left port. I cannot swim, your highness."