His gaze swerved back to Bethany, unsurprised to find she had not moved.
She just stood there, staring at his castle, his domain, his grandest possession, with what appeared to be revulsion.
A sour feeling invaded his stomach.
Fosterly was the largest of his estates. Today he had found himself anticipating their arrival home with joy and pride, eager to show it to her, hoping she would be impressed by it.
It was everything he had dreamed of and thought he would never have.
And she abhorred it.
Why?
Losing patience, he marched toward her. “Beth,” he issued curtly as he reached for her shoulder, “I insist that you tell me what is amiss.”
He had not truly expected her to cooperate since she had ignored all of his previous attempts to communicate. So she caught him off guard when, at the first touch of his hand, she turned on him.
“What have you done?” she demanded.
Robert frowned. Was she angry or frightened? He couldn’t tell.
“What have you done?” she shouted, backing away from him.
His own ire rising, he strove for patience. “Beth, I fail to comprehend why you are behaving so strangely. If you dislike Fosterly…”
In the next instant, she reversed direction and advanced on him with large, angry strides, quickly eating up the distance that separated them. “Where are my guns? I want them back.”
His frown deepened. “You are safe here. I have told you many times that you have naught to fear from us.” In truth, he was growing tired of having to repeat himself.
“I want my weapons back.”
“Beth—”
“Now!”
He stiffened. “’Twould be wise to—”
“I need them back!” she bellowed, eyes wild, breath short. “You have no right to keep them! You never should have taken them in the first place! Now give them to me!”
Had he not seen the absolute terror that glowed in her hazel eyes, he would have been furious that she dared speak to him thusly. Particularly in front of his men.
Not privy to her fear, they no doubt wondered why he did not deal out retribution.
It mattered not. Bethany’s entire body was quaking with fear.
“If you would but calm down,” he coaxed.
She took another step closer, so close she had to crane her neck to look up at him. “Give them to me, Robert.” Her voice softened to a whisper imbued with desperation. “You said I could trust you. If that’s true, then give them to me. Please. I need them.”
He had seen men dying on the battlefield who had held this same look of fear in their eyes. Dreading the inevitable, they had only been comforted by those things that were most familiar to them, things that lent them a false sense of security they could cling to until death claimed them. Naught else would appease them.
Nor, it seemed, would aught else appease Beth.
Swiveling, Robert crossed to Berserker and retrieved the two dark weapons that filled his palms, as well as the one that was the length of his arm.
His men watched in silence, faces alert, bodies tensing.
Beth waited for him in the road, shifting from foot to foot, chewing her lower lip, her gaze darting all around.
Returning to her, Robert held them out.
As he had expected, she reached for them as though they were strips of roasted venison and she were perishing of hunger. She confiscated one of the smaller weapons first. Giving it a swift inspection, she removed a thin object from the part of it that fit into her palm and replaced it with another she had tucked in a pocket of her breeches. Once satisfied, she put it in the leather sheath she had strapped to her hip over his tunic. The second weapon she inspected as well, then slid it into her belt.
The third and largest weapon she took in both hands. It appeared to have a handle similar to the others. Holding that with her right hand, she slid another part of it back with her left, revealing within a green object with a gold base.
Robert would have leaned forward for a closer look, but she closed it and looped the weapon’s strap over her shoulder in a way that left the weapon dangling beneath her arm, able to be raised at a moment’s notice.
That done, she looked up at him with wrinkled brow and chewed her lower lip.
“Beth.” How could he ease her fears if she would not speak them?
Swallowing hard, she glanced at the men behind him, then turned her gaze to the castle.
Why did the gray stone edifice disturb her so? He had seen many more imposing structures in his travels, beginning with his brother’s.
She wagged her head from side to side in silent despair. Her eyes met his once more, filling with moisture she didn’t bother to blink back.
“Tell me,” he urged. His movements slow and careful, he brushed a tear from her cheek, then cupped her face in his palm.
A muscle worked in her jaw as she closed her eyes. “Thank you.”
’Twas only a shadow of a sound.
When next she opened her eyes, she backed away from him, forsaking his touch. And kept backing away, trekking steadily downhill, away from Fosterly.
Confused, he cautiously started after her. “Beth?”
Shaking her head, she turned and bolted.
His men leapt to their feet.
“Nay!” Robert threw out a hand to stay them, then gave chase.
Beth was fast. A lot faster than she looked. One would think he would have little difficulty catching someone with legs so much shorter than his own. But with her astonishing speed and head start, he didn’t reach her until they were at the base of the hill.
“Beth, cease!” Grabbing her by one arm, he dragged her to a halt, careful not to harm her or hold her too tightly.
She put up a brief struggle, then collapsed against him in tears.
“Why did you run from me?” he asked, baffled, as he folded his arms around her. Her own arms encircled his waist as she burrowed deeper into him. “I told you I would never harm you.”
Her sobs increased, almost violent in their intensity. Her small hands clutched his back, fisting in his surcoat.
“Why does Fosterly frighten you so? You were well until you saw it. Have you been here before? Mayhap when Lord Hurley was earl?” A sick feeling invaded his stomach. “Did he harm you in some way?” Fury flooded him at the notion.
“You don’t understand,” she sobbed into his chest.
“Then tell me. Help me to understand. What inspired such fear?”
“I c-can’t tell you,” she wailed miserably.
“You can. I would no more use your words against you than I did your weapons. You must trust me in this.” Cupping her face in both palms, he forced her to look up at him. “I vow I only wish to help you, Beth.”
Her hazel eyes shimmered with liquid. Her cheeks were blotchy and shiny with tears, her nose rosy. She inhaled with short choppy gasps.
Nevertheless, Robert thought her beautiful.
Speaking softly, he drew his thumbs across her cheeks. “Calm yourself now and tell me what has overset you.”
“W-When I saw the castle, I th-thought I was in England,” she choked out.
He frowned. “You are in England.”
His words only seemed to upset her more.
“Don’t you see?” she cried. “I c-can’t make it work!”
“Make what work?”
“N-no one is going to drug me and s-send me to England!”
“Someone drugged you?” he demanded, outraged.
“N-No! Nay! That’s just it!”
He paused. “You think someone intends to drug you?”
“N-Nay.”
“Beth, I do not understand. Why are you so distressed?”
/> “B-because it means I’m c-crazy after all!” Her sobs grew louder, her breath hiccuping in between them. “I’m m-mad! I’m looney! I’m w-wacky in the wicky woo! I’m c-completely nuts!”
Rendered helpless by her tears, Robert let her duck her head and bury her face in his surcoat once more. “You think you are mad? That is why you ran?”
“Yes. Th-This can’t be real. It’s just n-not possible. It’s all some c-crazy hallucination.”
“Nay, Beth, ’tis not. You are not mad. You are merely weary.”
“Of c-course you’d say that. Y-You’re a hallucination, too.”
He smiled. “I assure you I am quite real.”
“N-no you’re not. I m-made you up in my head. I knew you were t-too good to be true! I kn-knew it!”
Chuckling, he tipped her chin up with one finger. “You think me a mere apparition conjured by a broken mind?”
She nodded miserably and bit her lip again, drawing his gaze to it.
His pulse leapt. “Then I suppose I shall have to prove otherwise.”
She was mid-hiccup when he dipped his head and touched his lips to hers. He meant it to be a brief kiss, as light as a breeze. But lightning struck.
At least, that was how it felt.
One tiny taste and sizzling heat arced through his veins, robbing him of his will and coaxing him to deepen the contact.
Beth froze in his arms, her only movement the erratic lifting of her breasts against his chest by residual sobs, and the softening of her full, pink lips.
Then she tentatively returned the gentle pressure.
And he was lost.
Combing his fingers through her soft, fragrant hair, Robert cupped the back of her head, tilting it to allow him greater access. He splayed his other hand across her back, urging her closer until her body was flush against his own. She tasted so good. As good as she had in his dreams last night. Heated, erotic fantasies that had led him to fondle her sweet curves in his sleep and awaken hard and longing to fulfill every one.
Her hands crept up his chest, slid over his shoulders, and dove into his hair.
Heart racing, Robert drew his tongue across the seam of her lips.
They parted on another gasp.
Groaning, he took swift advantage and delved within, exploring, caressing, stroking, and inflaming.
She moaned in response and rose onto her toes, sinking fully into him as her tongue dueled with his own.
Robert felt his control begin to slip and fought the need to slide his hands down those formfitting breeches, cup the bottom that had been rubbing against him, and grind her hard against his arousal.
A sensual shudder shook him.
Or, better yet, lift her up so she could wrap her legs around him and cradle him in between.
Dragging his lips from hers, he clutched her tightly for several heart-pounding seconds, then forced himself to relax his hold.
Both were breathless.
He leaned back just enough to look down at her. Tears no longer fell, he was pleased to see. Instead, desire lit the eyes she raised to meet his own.
“Would an apparition do that?” he inquired, voice husky, already regretting the moment he would have to release her.
Her lips tilted up in a ghost of a smile. “Probably. But n-not half so well. My imagination isn’t that sharp.”
He laughed.
She sobered. “I’m serious, Robert. I really do think I’m crazy.”
“And I am just as certain you are not.” Tenderly, he smoothed the hair back from her face. “Either way I will not abandon you.”
“You say that now, but…”
“You may tell me all once we reach Fosterly,” he assured her. “You will accompany me the rest of the way to my home, will you not?”
She sighed. “Aye.”
He had a feeling she agreed simply because she believed she had nowhere else to go. “I must ask a boon of you first.”
Her gaze turned wary. “What kind of boon?”
“That you do not use your weapons to harm any of my people.”
Her eyebrows rose. “You’d take a crazy person’s word for it?”
“I would take your word for it.”
She nodded. “Okay. I promise not to shoot anyone.”
“You have my gratitude.”
“Unless they try to hurt me. Or you. Then all bets are off.”
He smiled, understanding her meaning, if not all of her words. She still wished to protect him. “As you wish. Now, what say you? Shall we continue our journey?”
“Wait.” She grabbed his arm as he started to turn away.
“Aye?” She had not changed her mind already, had she?
A small, curious smile lit her tear-ravaged features. “Give me another kiss first. Just to settle my nerves.”
Grinning, Robert was more than happy to oblige.
Chapter Eight
Beth’s lips still tingled as the group approached the village that preceded the castle. She could not believe she had asked Robert to kiss her when she was on the brink of a mental breakdown. But for a moment, after that first tentative contact, her worries had deserted her.
Pure, sizzling heat had supplanted them, stealing her breath and robbing her of all reason. She had had no idea desire could consume her so swiftly.
It certainly never had in the past.
Granted, she wasn’t very experienced in that area. She hadn’t really dated much in high school.
Okay, she hadn’t dated at all in high school. She had been a late bloomer, something her blushing father had awkwardly assured her ran in the family when Beth had bemoaned the fact that she still hadn’t gotten her period by the time she had turned fourteen, even though her friends had all long since become women.
Her diminutive height combined with her flat chest and slim hips had made her appear several years younger than the other girls her age. Far too young, it seemed, to interest hormone-driven teenage boys who were too busy chasing girls with big boobs to even notice her.
By the time Beth had finally acquired some curves, she had been studying her ass off in college and forcing her way into the family business, which had left little time to socialize.
She had managed to go out with a few guys, though. Some more than once. She’d shared kisses. Touches. But nothing more. Not after what had happened with Josh.
When he was nineteen, Josh had received a phone call from a former girlfriend who had informed him she was HIV positive and advised him to get tested. Beth had found out quite by accident and had almost wept with relief when the test had come back negative. But the incident had scared them both so badly that neither Beth nor Josh even considered engaging in casual sex. Condoms didn’t offer one hundred percent protection, and neither one of them believed a moment’s pleasure with someone they didn’t love was worth the risk. So in the years since, Josh had only had two lovers.
And Beth had had none. Which hadn’t been that big a deal. None of the guys she had dated had knocked her socks off or fueled her desire. Not the way Robert had.
Whew! That man could kiss! She had been so stimulated that just having his arm looped around her waist now kept her heart pounding and left her breathless.
Until they reached the village.
Every once in a while, foul aromas would assail her. Beth didn’t know if the odors originated from the animals or poor sewer drainage or what. She didn’t think it came from the people, but more than one didn’t exactly appear to make good personal hygiene a high priority.
None of the men and women—or children for that matter—appeared slothful, though. Each seemed to have his or her own purpose and duty to perform. Each went about performing that duty diligently, pausing to greet Robert with friendly smiles full of respect and what app
eared to be an almost overabundance of relief.
And to stare at Beth, of course.
What was it about her that made so many gape? Sure, her hair wasn’t braided and curled uncontrollably. Thanks to Robert’s plunging fingers, it was probably more messy than usual, too. But she didn’t exactly resemble Medusa.
Was it Robert’s shirt? It did hang on her like a flour sack, constantly slipping off one shoulder to reveal the dark tank top beneath.
She didn’t really mind the slippage, though, because Robert always dragged it back up with his big hand, leaving a wicked warmth behind that provided a welcome distraction.
“These are your people?” she inquired softly.
“Aye.”
Her knowledge of world history was fairly limited, so she wasn’t sure how the whole peasant/nobleman infrastructure worked. As she looked around her, though, she decided that here it appeared to work pretty well. These people seemed to bear true fondness for Robert. And, though she didn’t see many elderly men and women, the people she did see all seemed in good physical condition. Some were in need of a bath or missing a tooth here or there, but their bodies seemed healthy and strong and lacked the gauntness of the man and his son they had encountered earlier.
“You must be a good leader,” she commented.
Robert waved to the children who ran alongside their horses, teasing smiles and giggles from them. “What makes you say so?”
“Look at them. They all love you.”
“Nonsense,” he grumbled, dropping his hand and shifting slightly.
Beside them, Michael grinned. “He will swear he is a harsh taskmaster, severe and lacking leniency, beating subservience into them all. But in truth, he knows every one of these people by name and has earned their fierce loyalty through his kindness and generosity.”
Robert retorted with a spate of blistering French Beth failed to understand. Apparently the French language had undergone a lot of changes, too, since the Middle Ages.
Michael laughed. “The previous earl was all that Lord Robert is not. All you see around you suffered greatly under his brutal rule. Many villeins died. A majority of the rest sickened and starved. Yet during the four years we have been here, even the most bitter inhabitants of Fosterly have come to admire Robert for his fairness and benevolence. There is not a man amongst them who would not give his life to protect Robert. And not just out of duty.”
Rendezvous With Yesterday Page 13
