Her tiny tank top had caught on the base of her breasts and climbed no farther. Beneath the pale skin of her flat belly lay muscle, smooth and sleek, faintly defined. He had never seen such on a woman before. All of those he had been with had been soft and malleable, more than a few of them round.
Robert found Beth’s form to be a fascinating combination of strength and vulnerability. Of hardness coupled with softness. The muscle he had marked on her arms and legs and now on her abdomen was by no means large and bulky like his own. Nay, ’twas more subtle, creating soft shadows and gentle ripples that warned one not to be fooled by her seeming delicacy. This woman was a warrior and could take care of herself.
Even as the thought formed in his mind, he noticed again the ragged scar just beneath her breasts.
Gently, he brushed two fingers across it.
Her breath caught.
His eyes met hers. “Does it hurt?”
“Nay.”
Resisting a sudden urge to bend and press his lips to it, he slipped his thumbs under the edge of her black tank top and tugged it down until its hem met her breeches.
Beth said nothing. Just watched Robert as little sparks ignited all along her torso where his hands brushed her as he adjusted her tank top.
His hair was windblown. His clothes looked as though he had been rolling around in a barbecue pit. And the skin alongside his mouth bore a tightness it had lacked earlier.
“Did you find what you sought?” he asked when the silence stretched.
She sighed. “Nay. I didn’t really expect to, but I had to look anyway.”
He nodded.
“I guess they told you everything, huh?”
“Who?”
“The motley crew out in the hallway. Your overly curious knights in somewhat tarnished armor.” All of whom had shadowed her throughout the day and seen her attempts to find proof that what stared her in the face was not true.
“Aye.”
She didn’t know what spin Stephen had put on her actions, but guessed it probably involved pointing an index finger at his temple and swirling it in circles in the universal cuckoo sign. “Do you believe me now?” she asked, not really wanting the answer.
“About what?”
“Being mad. Do you believe I’m crazy?” The servants certainly had before Adam had begun his ruse.
She wasn’t sure what they thought now.
“Nay, I do not,” he responded, then smiled. “I do not believe you are wacky in the wicky woo.”
That almost made Beth laugh. “Do you have any idea how strange that sounds coming from the mouth of a medieval knight?”
“No less strange than it does coming from your own sweet lips.”
Her amusement faded. “I screwed up, didn’t I?” He said nothing, because he agreed or because he didn’t understand her? “I made a mistake,” she clarified. “I know I did. Your friends wouldn’t have gotten down on their hands and knees and pretended they knew what the hell I was doing if I hadn’t. I knew I was making a spectacle of myself, but I couldn’t help it. I had to know. I had to be sure. I—”
Robert touched a finger to her lips to halt the sudden rapid flow of words. “You did naught wrong, Beth.”
“Yes, I did. You’re just trying to be nice.”
“Mayhap your behavior was a trifle odd, but there was no harm done.”
She shook her head, touched by his constant kindness. “Everyone here thinks I’m mad, Robert. Everyone but you.”
“Nay, Beth.”
“Your men do. Stephen and Michael and Adam. They think I’m nuts.”
“They do not.”
Damn, he was nice.
Beth lowered her arms and held her hands out to him. “You know what?”
Grasping her hands, he drew her up to sit beside him. “What?”
“You’re a terrible liar.” And she thought it one of his most endearing qualities. She had dealt with so many liars over the years. Closing her eyes, Beth leaned into him and rested her face against his dirty surcoat. It smelled of fresh air and soot. “What am I going to do?”
He wrapped his arms around her. “You are going to give me time enough to bathe the stench from my body, then join me for a light supper.”
She rolled her head from side to side. “If you knew what I was thinking… how crazy this all seems…” She had traveled back in time to medieval England.
How the hell was that even possible?
He pressed a kiss to her hair.
Her heart fluttered in her breast.
“Tell me, Beth. I will not betray your confidence.”
She couldn’t. Not yet. Not while she was still trying to understand it herself. “One more day, Robert.” Sliding her arms around his waist, she held him close. “Give me one more day, then I’ll tell you everything. I just hope…”
“What?”
“I hope you’ll still like me after I tell you.” He had been raised in a time when superstition governed thought and action as much religion and politics did. She had no idea how he would react to her telling him she was from the future.
His hold tightened. “You need not fear, Beth. Naught you say will change the way I feel about you.”
Chapter Nine
Beth turned Robert’s words over and over in her mind that night as she huddled beneath the covers, trying to fend off the mental demons that plagued her long enough to fall sleep.