Rendezvous With Yesterday (The Gifted Ones #2)(63)

His lips touched her forehead. “I know why you feel better…”

“If you tell anyone I threw a jealous temper tantrum, I will deny it unequivocally.”

He chuckled. “As you will. Now tell me why you feel worse.”

“Because, when I asked if you thought witches should be burned at the stake…”

“Aye?”

“I wasn’t talking about Alyssa the Magnificent.” Okay, it might take a little longer for her jealousy to subside. “I was talking about myself.”

His head came up. “You?”

“Yes. Aye.” Thank goodness Robert seemed to have a knack for languages, too, because her Middle English tended to slip quite a bit when her emotions ran high. Or when she was tired. Or rattled.

In the short time she had known him, he had already learned quite a few of her modern words and was becoming pretty adept at deciphering her accent and occasional mispronunciations. Michael, Stephen, Adam and Marcus were, too.

“Are you telling me you are a witch, Beth?” Robert asked now.

“No, I’m not. I’m really not.”



“If you are, you need not worry. I have a particular fondness for witches and wisewomen.”

Ire rose once more.

“Nay, do not stiffen up on me,” he said, giving her an affectionate shake. “I already assured you my feelings for Alyssa are merely those of a brother.”

“I’m not a witch, Robert. I just asked you that because I’m afraid that once I tell you where I come from, you will think I’m a witch.”

He pressed a kiss to her temple. “I will not turn from you, Beth. Whatever secrets your past may hold, I will always be here for you… to seek comfort from… or to scuffle with…”

She grinned.

“Or to ply with kisses.”

“Is that a hint?”

“Just planting the notion for later.” Turning her in his arms, he placed a hand on her lower back and guided her back toward the hearth. “Indulge me now ere I let you distract me again. I would have you fret over this no more.”

Anxiety returning, Beth waited while he arranged the two chairs so they faced each other with only a few feet separating them. He seated her in one, then lowered himself into the other.

Robert leaned back casually, his face open and expectant. His knees were comfortably splayed, his big feet planted on the floor, his tanned, long-fingered hands laced upon his flat, muscled abdomen.

He looked good enough to eat.

“Oops. Sorry,” she said without thinking, her eyes flying up to meet his.

“For what?”

“I just had another naughty thought.”

“Beth.”

“I know. I didn’t mean to. I was just looking at you and it popped into my head.”

He groaned, dropping his head back against the chair, which only fired Beth’s imagination more.

Closing her eyes, she pressed her fingertips to her temples. “Okay. Give me a second to banish the image, then I’ll get started.”

It took longer than a second.

She opened her eyes.

Robert sent her a smile. “Ready?”

She nodded. “I guess I’ll start by asking you another question.”

“As you will.”

“When were you born?”

“I was born in the year of our Lord eleven hundred and seventy-three.”

Her jaw dropped. “Holy crap,” she whispered. He had been born in the twelfth century. The twelfth freaking century!

Robert’s smile faded. “You seem surprised.”

“I am.” The twelfth century for crying out loud!

His brow puckered. “You think me old?” He shifted slightly. “I have no gray hairs yet and—”

“No! No-no-no. I don’t think you’re old, Robert. It isn’t that.” Perhaps it would help if her eyes weren’t wide and her mouth didn’t hang open. It obviously made the poor guy self-conscious. But the twelfth century? Really? She hadn’t realized just how far back she had traveled. “What is today’s date?”



“’Tis the fifth of June.”

Leaning forward, Beth tucked her hands between her knees. “The whole date, please.”

His expression went blank. “’Tis the fifth day of June in the year of our Lord twelve hundred and three.”

“Twelve hundred and three,” she repeated softly. 1203. The beginning of the thirteenth century.

Robert waited patiently as she mulled it all over. Beth had known him long enough to realize that the total lack of expression on his face was an indication of concern.

What was he thinking?

What would he think when she spelled it all out for him?

Her hands grew clammy. “The day you found me in the forest, after I woke up in that clearing…,” she began.

“Aye?”

Please, let him believe me. “The day Josh and I were shot, and I collapsed and thought I was dying…”

He nodded, watching her closely.

“Robert, when I passed out in that clearing, I was in the twenty-first century.”





Chapter Eleven



Beth held her breath, awaiting Robert’s reaction.