A slow grin stretched his lips. “I can definitely help you with that.”
“I would be very grateful.”
Marc laughed. “I can imagine.” Rising, he said, “I believe, my lord, it is time I introduced you to something called the Internet.”
Robert eyed him as he stood. “’Tis most curious.”
His eyebrows rose. “What? The Internet?”
“Nay. That is the third time you have addressed me as my lord.”
Marc’s look turned guarded. “Is it?”
“Aye.” And he had sounded completely natural doing so, unlike Josh and Grant, who had only done it in jest.
“I suppose, considering your title, I deemed it appropriate.”
The words rang falsely, though Robert could not say why. “I see no need for such formality, not in this time, and not if we are to become friends.”
Slowly Marc’s shoulders relaxed. “I believe we already are friends, Robert.”
Robert smiled and clapped him on the shoulder. “We are. Now tell me more of this thing called the Internet.”
With the help of Marc’s computer and a piece of plastic he called a credit card, Robert purchased many secrets for Beth that would be delivered the next day. He had been quite dismayed when Marc had told him he could not use the gold coins Robert had brought with him as payment.
“Those coins are centuries old, Robert, and are no longer used in the common market.”
“Then they have no value in this time?” Robert had intended to leave whatever coins he did not spend here with Josh as a gift.
Marc snorted. “Those coins are extremely valuable. Because of their age and pristine condition, you could probably purchase Victoria’s entire store with them. But they must be sold to a rare coin dealer first—or perhaps even a museum—and exchanged for modern moneys.”
“Then I will do so and repay you for letting me use your plastic card.”
“It isn’t necessary, I assure you. In fact, I would much prefer that you repay me in a different manner.”
An hour later, Robert and Marc were sweating buckets, as Beth would say, and grinning like fools as they hacked at each other with a pair of blunted swords Marc had produced that looked remarkably like the ones Robert used to train his squires.
While Marc had donned shoes, Robert had stripped off his shirt, leaving him in only his blue jeans and sneakers. They had shoved all of the living room furniture up against the walls, providing them with a suitably large area in which they could spar. And spar they did. Marc was an excellent swordsman. Robert would not have thought any men of this time would have reason to perfect such skills, but perfect them Marc had.
Apparently, unbeknownst to Beth, he was a member of one of the reenactment groups Beth had thought Robert part of the day they had met.
The two men spoke little as they fought. Occasionally Robert would offer praise or direction, as he did when sparring with his men. But very little direction was needed. More often than not, he laughed out loud with the sheer exhilaration of battling so worthy an opponent.
Bingbong bingbong bingbong bingbongbingbong. Thump thump thump thump thump.
Breathing hard, both men stopped and turned toward the door. Marc took a step forward, lowering his sword tip.
The door burst inward and Beth hurtled past, disappearing down the hallway at top speed. “Marc!” she shouted at the top of her lungs. “I’ve lost Robert! I can’t find him!”
“In here,” Marc called.
Beth’s sneakers squeaked as she skidded to a halt on the wood floor, then backtracked into the living room. “I can’t find Robert! I—”
As soon as her eyes lit upon Robert, she let out a huge sigh of relief. “Oh, thank goodness.” Wilting against the nearest wall, she pointed an imperious finger at him. “Don’t ever do that again.”
Robert raised his eyebrows. “Visit Marc’s home?”
“Aye! I mean, nay. When I got home from the doctor’s office, the house was empty and you weren’t in the garage or in the backyard or anywhere else that I could see, and there was no note, and I didn’t know where you went, and… Do you have any idea how many people live in Houston? Or how long it would take me to go door to door, asking each and every one of them if they had by any chance seen a gorgeous but loony Brit who speaks garbled English?”
Robert frowned. “My English is not garbled.”
She turned her frown on Marc. “Hi, Marc.”
Marc grinned. “Hi, Beth.”
“’Twas not my intention to worry you, love,” Robert told her, hoping to calm her temper.
“Well, you did. I haven’t been that scared since I was shot.” Straightening suddenly, she noticed for the first time the new furniture arrangement and the swords in their hands. “What are you two doing?”
“Sparring,” Marc answered cheerfully.
Her eyebrows nearly met her hairline. “You know how to wield a sword?”
“Aye,” Robert said. “And, after sparring with him, I must admit Marc is my equal.”