Robert’s pulse quickened.
She wore naught but one of his thin linen shirts. Gone were her breeches, her boots, her vest, her little black tank top, her even smaller scraps of shiny black material. Now he saw only soft skin, as pale as moonlight, and material rendered almost transparent by the waning flames as she crossed in front of the fire and made her way toward him.
Tiny bare toes with red tips peeked at him below slender calves left bare by the shirt’s hem. Her long hair—now clean—gleamed like waves of satin.
Robert did not move. He was afraid to. If he did, he feared his hands would betray him and drag her down atop his body, clasp her head in a firm grip, and force her lips to merge with his in an attempt to quench the heat igniting within him.
Why had she come to him? And so sparsely garbed?
“I can’t sleep,” she said softly as she stopped beside his bed and stood staring down at him. “It’s too cold and—”
Frowning, Robert propped himself up on his elbows. “Forgive me, Beth. Let me build you a fire and—”
“Nay, I… There is a fire. It’s just…” Releasing a frustrated sigh, she glanced around the room and pressed the fingers of one hand to her forehead.
Robert reached out and captured her other hand in his own. “What is it, Beth?”
“Look, I know this is a lot to ask”—she dropped her arm—“but could I sleep in here with you tonight?”
Even as his body hardened with desire, Robert’s heart went out to her. She had not come to him for lovemaking. She merely sought comfort and reassurance.
Giving her hand a squeeze, he scooted over and folded back the blankets. “Come.”
Some of the tension in her face eased. Placing one knee on the side of the bed, she hesitated. “We’re only going to sleep, right?”
He doubted he would sleep at all with her sensuous body so nigh, but smiled nevertheless. “Aye, Beth.”
Offering him a faint smile of her own, she climbed in and pulled the blankets up to her chin. “Mmm. I’m warmer already.”
He grinned. “Let me have those fingers and toes.”
Rolling onto her side to face him, Beth offered him her hands. Robert hissed when her icy toes made contact with his shins, but spoke not a word of complaint. Instead, he sandwiched her hands between his much larger ones and warmed her feet with his own.
His heart began to pound.
’Twas different tonight. More intimate.
Instead of being squeezed into a tent with his men sleeping just outside, they were alone in his chamber, in his big sumptuous bed, with a cozy fire burning in the fireplace. Where last night, both had been fully clothed, now Beth wore only Robert’s thin shirt and Robert…
She cleared her throat. “Umm, Robert? Are you naked?”
“Aye.”
“That’s what I thought.”
Robert waited for her to protest, to express shock or dismay.
When she didn’t, he blew on her hands. “Is the rest of you this cold?”
“Aye.”
“Come along then. Let me warm the rest of you.”
Curling his arm around her, he lay on his back and encouraged her to snuggle up against his side.
She rested her head upon his shoulder, draped one cool, smooth thigh across his.
If his arousal surprised or alarmed her, she made no comment. What she did instead was steal his heart with two featherlight touches.
Reaching up, she brushed his hair back from his forehead, then oh-so-gently trailed her fingers down one bristly cheek in a brief caress.
“Thank you, Robert,” she whispered.
She sealed his fate in that moment. An innocent caress before she wrapped an arm around him, burrowing closer as she abandoned herself to slumber, and his heart became hers.
“Damn you, Marcus! Pay attention!” Robert growled seconds after the tip of the blunted training sword he wielded struck his squire’s shoulder with enough force to knock him to the ground.
A flush mounting his cheeks, Marcus scrambled to his feet and stuttered a hasty apology. “Forgive me, my lord.”
“Had this blade not been blunted I would have taken your bloody arm off! The moment your concentration wanes, your life is forfeit!”
The boy nodded, shamefaced. “Aye, my lord.”
Marcus had not erred so gravely in a long while. He had a true talent for the sword, rarely made the same mistake twice, and strove for perfection in all that he did.
Robert enjoyed training him. “’Tis the first time in months your diligence has faltered. What distracted you?”
Marcus swallowed miserably. “’Twas Lady Bethany.”
Robert quickly looked around, but did not see her. “Lady Bethany?”
“Aye, my lord. There.”
Robert looked in the direction Marcus pointed and found Bethany sitting on a bench that butted up against the keep on the far side of the practice field. Her long hair cloaked her shoulders and back in rich brown curls. A dark green kirtle borrowed from Alyssa fit her alluring curves snugly and fell a bit short, exposing her odd mannish boots.