He still could not say what had come over him and made him speak so familiarly to her.
Her throat worked with a swallow. “I’m just so worried about Josh.” Her eyes shimmered as tears rose in them. “I keep seeing him, the way he looked when he staggered toward me. The blood on his clothes and the pain in his face. The fear for me in his eyes. How still he lay after he fell.” Issuing a sound of impatience, she brought a hand up and rubbed the tears away. “And the sound he made when he saw me fall… I don’t know how to describe it. He let out this… roar of grief and fury, as if he knew I would die from my wounds.” She shook her head. “Not knowing what happened to him is eating me up inside.”
Robert nodded. He had emitted such a roar himself the day he had watched his brother take three quarrels from a crossbow. Not knowing whether Dillon had survived or died from his wounds would have been unbearable. “You said you slew your attackers, did you not?”
She nodded.
Then there was still hope they would find Josh alive on the morrow.
“I’ve never killed anyone before,” she confessed, her voice low and strained.
Another burden for her to bear. “You were protecting yourself and your brother. You had no choice.”
“I know. And I would do it again if I had to. I guess it’s just now hitting me.”
He nodded, his eyes on his hands as they sifted through the tangles. “Killing is never easy.”
While he had participated in numerous skirmishes, Robert had not engaged in his first major battle until his last year under Lord Edmund’s tutelage. He had fought as he had been trained to fight, coolly and without emotion, spilling the blood of one opponent after another until no more had been left standing. The knights around him had heaped praise upon him as he had withdrawn his sword from the last man he had felled. Praise to which he had paid no heed. The scent of blood and death saturating the air around him, Robert had slipped away from the others and—out of sight and out of hearing—promptly lost the contents of his stomach in the brush.
It had been the first time he had taken another man’s life. And it had disturbed him far more than he had expected it to, considering he would have lost his own life had he not done so.
That night, instead of celebrating the victory with the other warriors and boasting of his kills to any and all who would listen, Robert had sought solace in Eleanor’s arms. Only she had seemed to understand.
Leaning closer to Bethany, he massaged the fragrant soap into her scalp and tried in vain to remember what magical words Eleanor had imparted so long ago to banish his turmoil.
Beth’s chin rose skyward as she looked up at him. “Are you just trying to make me feel better? Or are you speaking from experience?”
“Experience.” He moved around to her side so she would not have to strain to see him while he continued to work the lather through the hair at her temples.
“You’ve killed someone then?” she asked, her tone cautious.
“More men than I care to admit.” He could see his words shook her and forced a casual shrug. “War cannot always be avoided.” He shook his head. “At times it seems constant, so often is it waged, warranted or nay. I choose my battles as I can, fulfilling my duty to my country and ensuring the safety of my family. Yet even in the most minor of skirmishes, there are casualties. I have been one myself a time or two.”
When she didn’t cringe away from him, he relaxed. He had thought for a moment that she might turn away from him or again begin to fear him. “If you will slide a bit more toward the edge, I shall rinse your hair for you now.”
Rising up on her elbows, she inched backward until her head hung completely off the edge.
Robert slid one hand beneath her mass of soapy hair and cupped her head for support. The other he combed through her dark locks, letting the current sweep the soap away.
When the last pale bubble had abandoned them, he gathered the gleaming strands together and gently twisted as he had seen Eleanor do to wring out the excess water.
“Thank you.” Reaching back, Bethany liberated the thick bunch from him and sat up.
Rising, he left the cool water and stepped up onto the bank, where he proceeded to remove his shirt.
“Hey. What are you doing?” Bethany blurted. “Just because I let you wash my hair doesn’t mean I want to play I’ll show you mine if you’ll show me yours.”
A burst of laughter escaped him, startling him more than it did her.
Her eyes narrowed.
“Forgive me, Beth.” It took tremendous effort to choke back his amusement and reduce his smile to a mere twitch of the lips. “While I admit such a game sounds intriguing…” He raised his eyebrows and gave her his most charming grin, sparking a small smile of her own. “’Twas not my intention to engage in it now. I merely thought to have a quick wash since my garments are already wet and soap and water are both available.”