All of these miraculous things that baffled and amazed him had been created in the future.
Beth wasn’t mad. She really had come to him from the twenty-first century.
A handful of coins cupped in his palm, Robert slowly met her gaze.
Her breath caught. “You believe me,” she whispered.
“I believe you.”
She rewarded him with a tight hug. “Thank you.”
Closing his arms around her, Robert feared for a moment she might weep, but her eyes bore no tears when she released him.
The gaps where the edges of her robe did not quite meet widened as she settled herself once more at his side, leaning into him. Her hip pressed intimately against his, as did the length of her thigh. Tucking her small bare feet to the side, she tugged the hem of the robe down to cover them.
She seemed disinclined to talk for the moment. Mayhap she knew not what to say now that she had convinced him of the truth.
Robert retrieved her wallet and returned the coins to the pocket from which they had come. The zipper on this, though shorter, intrigued him no less than the one on her backpack, compelling him to unzip and zip it several times before setting it atop her breeches.
He was loath to part with her ID, though.
Glancing up, he caught her smiling at him. His fascination with zippers and other things she considered commonplace must amuse her.
He held up her portrait. Or rather her photograph. “May I keep this, Beth?”
Her gaze shifted to the license. “Sure. If you want to. I don’t really need it anymore, do I?”
He looked from her to the photograph. “’Tis strange.”
“The driver’s license?”
“Nay. That you are here beside me, touching me, when you have not yet been born. ’Tis difficult to reconcile in my mind.” He shook his head. “You will not be conceived until nigh eight hundred years from now, long after I am dead.”
Her face clouded. “Neither will Josh. Or Marc. Or Grant.” Her eyes darkened with either grief or defeat when they met his. “Losing Mom and Dad was hard. I didn’t think anything would ever be that hard again. But now I’ve lost everyone. Everyone who was important to me. Everyone I considered family. My friends. My home. Everything that was familiar to me. It’s all gone.” She gave a disconsolate shrug. “What am I going to do, Robert? Where do I go from here?”
Troubled by her distress, he cupped her cheek in his rough palm. “Nowhere, Beth. Remain here at Fosterly and begin a new life with me.”
Chapter Twelve
Beth’s heart turned over in her chest.
Robert’s intense gaze held hers as he awaited her response. So much emotion swam within that cerulean blue. Understanding. Strength. A determination to protect her.
And no little desire.
The passion they had shared earlier that had temporarily been dampened as she had poured out her story now returned, growing and sparking between them as he caressed her face.
Dare she hope it might be fortified by something deeper? A hint of love perhaps? A tiny ember she might fan into flame?
What else would explain the faint shadow of vulnerability lurking behind the rest?
“You really mean that?” she whispered.
“Aye.”
“What if I don’t fit in? What if I screw up all the time and can’t do things the way you do them here?”
His lips twitched. “I believe your greatest obstacle will be overcoming the language differences.”
She pursed her lips and adopted an exaggerated Southern drawl. “So, what are ya sayin’, I have an accent?”
“’Tis barely noticeable,” he lied merrily.
“Or barely understandable,” she corrected dryly, daring him to deny it. She knew her tendency to slip and use modern colloquialisms made it sound as though she spoke a foreign language.
“Wellll…”
She gave him a playful shove.
He laughed. “I think we understand each other well enough.”
He actually had learned quite a few modern words since they had met.
Beth nibbled her lower lip. “Seriously, Robert. I don’t think you understand how different life in my time is. How independent women are, and how much more control we have over our lives in the future. I may not know a lot about the history of England, but I know that the women of this time in general were totally dominated by the men and were little more than chattel. Are little more than chattel.”
“Not in my family,” he asserted without hesitation.
She tilted her head to one side. “What do you mean?”
“The men of my line have always admired intelligence and strength in a woman.”
“You’re not talking about Alyssa again, are you?” she grumbled.
His lips twitched. “Aye. She is strong, and wiser than anyone I know. And though she is wed to my brother and expected to obey him in all things, she has more control over her life and decisions than you may think.”