Fortunately, Robert caught her before she hit the ground.
Beth shook her head at her own clumsiness and braced one hand against his chest. “Thanks, I—” Her eyes widened with alarm. “Holy crap, you’re cold!” She pressed her other hand to his chest, felt the arctic temperature of his skin, the tremors that shook him, and panicked. “Robert, you’re freezing!”
He was the one thing enabling her to keep her sanity. She sure as hell didn’t want him to die of hypothermia.
Throwing her arms around him, she lowered her face to his chest, pressed her body against his, and began to vigorously rub his back, hoping to lend him a little warmth.
He stiffened. “I am well, Beth,” he objected.
“Nay, you’re not. You’re an icicle! Here, let me warm your arms.” She latched onto one of his arms and began to chafe it with both hands. Sheesh, his muscles were huge. “Here. Take your tunic back. I don’t need it anymore. I’m warm now,” she lied.
He grabbed her hands before she could remove the long garment and offered a frozen chuckle. “You are barely warmer than I, Beth. Let us hie ourselves back to the clearing, where a blazing fire awaits us. ’Tis not far.”
A fire sounded wonderful. “Okay. But let’s hurry.” Linking the fingers of one hand through his, she chafed his arm with the other as he led her back to camp.
When the two of them stepped from the trees, relief filled her. A sizable flame roared and crackled in the center of the campsite.
Michael, Stephen and Adam glanced up from their positions around it, looked back down, then all did double takes.
Beth frowned. “What?” She looked behind her and saw nothing but trees.
Were they looking at her? Had she missed some of the blood on her face or something?
Reaching up, she ran her free hand over her features but found only clean skin.
So what had captured their attention?
After gaping at her like the fish they presently roasted over the fire, the men directed their gazes to her hand clasped in Robert’s, then looked up at their leader.
Robert’s fingers tightened around hers.
Almost as one, the men looked away.
Beth glanced up and caught the tail end of a glare Robert sent them.
Was he angry? Why?
Offering no explanation, he guided her over to the side of the fire opposite the others and invited her to sit upon a folded blanket Michael produced for her comfort.
Very thoughtful.
The temperature felt like it hovered somewhere around sixty degrees and was steadily dropping. This time of year in Houston, temperatures usually didn’t even fall out of the eighties at night. Yet now it was cool enough for her butt to go numb if she sat on the bare ground.
She frowned as Robert handed her another blanket. She wasn’t really in Pennsylvania, was she?
The others seemed neither surprised nor affected by the chill. Maybe that thick padded gambeson thing Robert had worn under his mail kept them cozy warm.
Since Robert no longer wore his own, Beth unfolded the blanket so they could share it. Crossing her legs beneath the somewhat coarse material, she patted the makeshift cushion at her side.
Robert draped two more blankets around her shoulders, then obliged her by seating himself close enough that their shoulders brushed.
“There’s plenty of blanket,” she said. “Why don’t we share?”
“’Tis not necessary,” he protested.
“Aye, it is. Look at us.” Opening her arms, she drew half of the blankets around him. “We’re both shivering.” As added incentive, she stopped clenching her teeth and let them chatter at will.
Across from them, Stephen muttered something about it not being the cool air that made Robert shiver, earning another dark look. Robert nevertheless cocooned himself within the blankets with her and lent her his warmth as his own chill deserted him.
“Mayhap your brother will see our fire and be drawn to it,” he suggested softly.
Thankful for that bit of hope, she nodded. “I hope so.”
The rest of the evening passed as pleasantly as it could with dozens of unanswered questions swirling through Beth’s brain and concern for Josh constantly prodding her. The fish ended up being rather tasty. In true warrior fashion, her four male companions wolfed down their share in less than five minutes, then set about attempting to assemble her tent while she slowly ate her fill.
“Why don’t you just read the instructions?” she asked at one point, motioning to the single sheet of paper they had set aside.
“We need no instructions,” Stephen muttered now, frowning over the way the slim metal rod in his hands bent. “This metal is of very poor quality.”
Beth rolled her eyes. “It’s supposed to bend. The tent is dome-shaped.”
“The cloth is flimsy, as well,” Michael added. “’Tis thinner than parchment.”