“It’s waterproof. It’s windproof. It’s fine,” she countered.
The only one who didn’t grumble was Adam, whom she had already identified as the quiet one of the group. He merely nodded his agreement with the others’ complaints and scowled his frustration when nothing they tried seemed to work.
Beth glanced over at Robert, who also neglected to consult the instructions, and caught him staring at her across the fire. Rising, he abandoned the tent and the others and came to sit beside her once more.
“Giving up?” she asked.
He shook his head. “I find your company more pleasing than theirs.”
“I heard that,” Stephen groused, tossing the metal rod down and picking up another.
She smiled. “What is it with men and their refusal to read instructions? It’s almost as bad as their insistence on not stopping to ask for directions when they get lost.”
“I cannot speak to the latter. But, with regards to the first, I am the only one here who can read with any proficiency.”
She raised her eyebrows. “Seriously?”
He nodded. “Michael can read a little. Lord Edmund, the man Michael and I fostered with, insisted that our training include learning to scribe. Alas Michael was often ill and was not made to suffer through as many of the tiresome lessons as I was.”
He sounded, for all the world, as if he had really had such a medieval upbringing. As if he had been a page, then become a squire, and then the knight he was now.
“And the other two?” she asked.
He shrugged. “The knights who trained them had little use for such abilities.”
She couldn’t hide her shock.
“’Tis not uncommon, Beth.”
“I know, but didn’t they go to school?”
“Unless a boy either plans to enter the church or possesses estates he must oversee, he has little need for numbers or letters.”
She studied him, trying to convince herself that this was simply his medieval-reenactment-group way of saying they had slipped through the cracks, that both the educational system and their parents had failed them.
But he really didn’t seem to be acting. Her instincts kept telling her he was sincere.
You have great instincts, Beth, Josh had told her many times. Trust them. They’ve never failed you.
She glanced at the men across the campfire, then returned her gaze to Robert.
Had she inadvertently guessed correctly in her mental ramblings earlier? Were these guys mentally off? Did they actually believe they were medieval knights, guided by a code of honor?
There were worse delusions someone could have, she supposed. “Haven’t you ever heard the saying knowledge is power?” she queried.
“Nay.” He studied her thoughtfully. “However, I have often found such to be true.”
“Me, too.” Was that admiration in his gaze? “So, if you’re the only one who can read, why aren’t you over there reading the instructions to them?”
He hesitated. “They displeased me earlier.”
“What did they do? Take the fish you wanted?”
He looked away. “’Twould not interest you.”
“I wouldn’t have asked if I wasn’t interested.”
A twinge of what looked to be chagrin rippled across his handsome features. “I did not care for the way they looked at you,” he admitted.
“What do you mean? When we came back from our bath?”
Bad choice of words. Beth flushed as soon as they left her mouth.
His blue eyes twinkled with amusement as he gazed down at her. “Aye. When we returned from our bath.”
Beth elbowed him lightly in the ribs for teasing her. “I looked like a drowned rat. You can’t blame them for thinking it when they saw me.”
A different spark entered his eyes then. “Verily, if that is what you believe, I wish I had a looking glass so that I might show you what I see.”
She laughed ruefully. “I don’t need a mirror, thank you, and would only grimace if I had one. I’m not wearing any makeup. I have scratches all over my face from racing pell-mell through the forest. And even though I found a comb in my backpack, I know my hair. If I don’t use tons of mousse and spend half an hour blow-drying it straight, it kinks up as if it’s been freshly permed.”
To demonstrate, she reached up, tugged on a ringlet until it straightened, then let it bounce back into place.
He frowned. “You have beautiful hair. Why would you wish to straighten it?”
“Because straight is in. Straight is sleek. Straight is sexy. Straight is sophisticated.” She wrinkled her nose. “Curly is cute.”
He fingered one of the thick curls that rested upon her shoulder. “You truly dislike your hair?” He sounded as if he couldn’t believe it.
Her pulse picked up. “Yes.”
“’Tis soft,” he murmured, his voice deep and hushed. “And radiant. See how it captures the light of the fire?”