“Wow. That is warm.” Wriggling her hand, she managed to stuff the rest of her chilled fingers up his sleeve. “Ahhhh.”
Robert’s heart thudded against his ribs when she slid her other hand along his and linked their fingers around the reins. How fortunate that he had not donned his mailed mitts again after checking her wounds.
“Mmm. Your hand is warm, too,” she praised. “You don’t mind, do you?”
“Nay,” he answered, silently cursing when his voice emerged a bit hoarse. Her touch affected him far more than it should have.
When she tilted her head back to look up at him, he stared straight ahead and schooled his features into a bland mask.
“You sure?” she asked.
“Aye.”
“Thank you.” Facing forward, she seemed content for a while.
Her skin had not quite lost all of its chill when she abandoned his hand and wrist, retrieved her sellfone from the pocket on her breeches and stared down at it.
Curious, Robert peered over her shoulder and tried to understand just what this small, dark object did. There were what appeared to be several tiny, colorful paintings on it, all lined up in neat rows.
Bethany moved the phone to one side, then the other, up and down, all the while keeping a sharp eye on the object.
Robert failed to see it do anything, but thought the little drawings or paintings unusually bright. They seemed, in fact, to glow. “Is all as it should be?” he queried.
“Nay,” she answered, frustration darkening her words. “I still can’t get any bars. I don’t understand it.”
She shoved the sellfone back into her pocket, then leaned to one side, unknowingly grinding her hip into his arousal, and pulled her knife from its sheath.
A groan escaped him ere he could suppress it.
“Did you say something?” she asked.
“Nay.”
She held the blade in front of her, handle up, and went still.
’Twas a most unusual weapon. The handle appeared to be somewhat tarnished silver that smoothed into a ball at its base. Between the handle and the blade lay a flat strip of metal that served as the guard. From this, two rounded spikes—each almost the width of Bethany’s smallest finger—extended outward on either side of her small fists, offering protection from an opponent’s strikes.
The blade itself was as long as her forearm. Mayhap as wide as her narrow wrist at its base, it thickened along its length and curved wickedly until it narrowed to a sharp point.
When she would have put it away, Robert spoke. “What do you do when you hold your weapon thusly? Do you pray?”
“Pray? Nay, I’m looking at this.” Twisting so that one shoulder brushed his chest, she drew the knife in closer and tilted the handle toward him. “See?” She tapped the rounded ball at the base. “It’s a compass.”
Robert leaned down a bit to give it a closer look.
The rounded base was not metal as he had believed, but clear like glass. Inside lay a small ball marked with letters that represented the directions. His eyes widened as the little ball stayed in place while she turned the handle this way and that.
“Since I can’t really get a good look at the sun because of all these trees, I’ve been using this to keep track of what direction we’re traveling in.” Leaning over to tuck her head beneath his chin, she looked at the miraculous little ball. “Right now we’re heading north-northwest. We were heading due north.”
Robert could only stare. What a wondrous weapon.
Straightening, she glanced up at him. “Pretty cool, huh? And that’s not all.” Holding the handle with one hand, she wrapped the other around the spherical compass and began to turn it. “This unscrews.” Removing the compass, she showed him a hidden compartment within the handle. “And inside are waterproof matches, a fishing hook with fishing line, a safety pin, a needle and some thread.”
Robert had no idea what matches were. They looked like large wooden splinters with blue tips. And the fishing line could not hold much strength. He could practically see through it. But the secret compartment, the compass and the fishing hook concealed in the blade’s handle he found very intriguing.
“A most unusual weapon.”
A sad smile briefly lit her face as she tucked her secrets back inside the handle. “Josh lent it to me.”
Facing forward again, she secured the knife in its sheath.
Robert scowled at the back of her head. Affection laced her voice when she spoke the other man’s name.
“Joooosh!”
“Who is this Josh to you?”
“Jooooosh!” Sighing heavily, Bethany leaned back against him, her head resting against his chest. “My brother. I told you that, didn’t I?”
“Nay, you did not.” Had she done so, he would not have been jealous.
Nay, not jealous. He would not have been… concerned?
His scowl deepened. Not if he were honest with himself. If it had been aught other than jealousy, he would not feel so relieved now.