Rendezvous With Yesterday (The Gifted Ones #2)(81)

Several others seconded his plea.

Give them another what?

“Where should I put this, my lady?” a quieter voice asked near the entrance. Hugh.

“What is it?” he heard Beth respond.

“’Tis my favorite tunic,” Hugh answered as though ’twas obvious.

“That’s a tunic?”

“Aye. My youngest sister made it for me.”

“Awwwww. That’s so sweet. Put it in the to-be-washed pile. We’ll see about mending it once it’s clean.”

“My thanks.”

“Sure.” Beth raised her voice over the din. “I don’t know, guys. I think maybe I should stop.”

Vociferous complaints erupted.

“Seriously,” she spoke above them. “I don’t think spouting dirty limericks could exactly be considered proper behavior for a lady.”

Dirty limericks? What were dirty limericks? And why would she think reciting them improper?

His men evidently saw naught amiss with it, because they all denied any impropriety and begged her to continue.

“Are you sure?” she asked next. “I know you’re bored, but I don’t want to do aught that might make Robert angry. And some of these are quite…” She emitted a little huff of frustration. “What’s the word I’m looking for?”

Beth had confessed that she sometimes had difficulty finding the medieval equivalent of some of her modern words. Robert aided her whenever he could, committing her peculiar words and phrases to memory and using them himself on occasion. He wished to do aught he could, after all, to make her feel more comfortable in this place and time.

“Bawdy?” Marcus suggested.

Robert’s eyes widened. She was telling his men bawdy tales?

“I was going to say crude,” Beth murmured, “but bawdy might cover it.” She spoke louder so the others could hear her. “Don’t you think these limericks are too bawdy? I don’t want to upset Robert.”

A brief moment of silence ensued that led Robert to believe they were clearly misleading her and having second thoughts about it. Then they jumped in as one and insisted he would approve.

Robert’s eyes narrowed as he crossed his arms over his chest.

Just how bawdy were these tales? Surely his men would do naught to incur his wrath.

“All right, all right,” she laughingly agreed. “Let me see if I can remember another one.”

A couple of quiet minutes passed, accompanied by assorted rustling sounds and occasional whispered comments.

“Okay, I’ve got one,” she announced.

A loud cheer split the air.



“Tell us! Tell us!” the men chanted.

Beth laughed. “Okay. But before I do, you need to know that Stormy Weather is the name of a song.”

“Will you sing it for us, my lady?” one man called.

“Maybe in a fortnight when you clean this place up again,” she said not unkindly, eliciting many a groan. “Oh, and brass is a metal. I haven’t seen any here, so I wasn’t sure you knew that. Come here, Marcus. I need you to translate a word for me. What do you call…?”

A split second later, Robert heard his squire sputter and cough. “My lady!”

“Look how red the boy’s face is!” someone belted out with glee.

“Aye! ’Twill be a good one, I vow!”

“My lady,” Marcus whispered desperately, “I cannot.”

“Sure you can. If I don’t use the right term, they won’t get it.”

“Lord Robert would geld me if he knew I discussed such with you!”

Exactly what word did she seek?

Though curiosity begged him to wait and see, Robert opted to save his squire further embarrassment.

Assuming a foreboding expression, he stepped into the doorway.





Seated upon a tall stool just inside the doorway of the north tower, Beth felt a shadow fall across her. Turning, she smiled as her heart leapt. “Robert!”

Hopping off the stool, she took two steps toward him, then noticed his expression.

Uh-oh. He looked rather displeased. Had he heard one of the dirty limericks?

Behind her, the knights quieted and anxiously stood at attention.

Robert raised one eyebrow, daring one and all to offer an explanation.

“Um…” Without looking at Robert’s men, Beth flung one arm out and pointed at them. “They made me do it.”

Gasps ricocheted through the room.

Beth peeked over her shoulder to gauge the reactions of the accused. The looks of shock and abject horror that painted the men’s rough faces were absolutely priceless.

She burst into laughter. “I’m just kidding, you guys.”

“Jesting, my lady,” Marcus corrected softly, his gaze darting back and forth between her and Robert.

“Jesting,” Beth amended, waving her hand at the men, who seemed uncertain how to react. “I’m just jesting. You guys should see your faces. It’s hilarious.”

Still chuckling, she strolled forward, slid her arms around Robert’s waist and leaned into him. There was nothing sexual in the gesture. Just another expression of affection that probably astounded all present. “It was me,” she admitted freely, rocking slightly from side to side. The glint of amusement she saw enter Robert’s eyes confirmed her guess that he wasn’t truly angry. “I was desperate to get them to clean this place up and thought it might distract them. Although they did,” she said, raising her voice, “assure me that all was good and proper.”