Rendezvous With Yesterday (The Gifted Ones #2)(96)

Robert softened the kiss and drew back.

Beth stared up at him, her body already tingling.



“Wait.” She frowned, her anger not yet spent. “Oh, no you don’t. Don’t think you can distract me by—”

Again Robert took her lips with his own, seducing and devouring as though he were converting all of the hurt he felt at her refusal into pure lust.

When next he pulled back, her breath came as quickly as his own.

“Okay,” she admitted hoarsely. “You win. You made me lose my train of thought.”

He kissed her forehead. “Will you listen to me now?”

She nodded. Relinquishing her hold on him (the man was just too tempting), she scooted back to place a little distance between them.

He hesitated a moment. “I loved another in my youth, Beth.”

A heavy weight lodged itself in her chest. She had expected him to start enumerating all of the reasons he thought they should marry, not make a confession that sucked all of the air out of her lungs. He had loved another?

“When?” she asked. “How long ago?”

“I was ten and eight.” Robert shifted until he sat with his back cushioned by their pillows. “Come here, love, and let me hold you.”

She did feel a sudden need to cling to him, as though whatever he intended to reveal might tear him away from her.

Beth snuggled up against his side. “Who was she?”

“I was squire to Lord Edmund. She was a handmaiden and a year younger than I.”

“Was she pretty?” Though it was totally irrelevant, she couldn’t help but ask.

“Aye, she was. In truth, she was somewhat similar to you in appearance, small and dark haired. But she lacked your strength.”

“What do you mean? Like physically?” She doubted the women here spent whatever free time they managed to find doing yoga and running marathons.

“Aye. She was plumper and had not honed her muscles to perfection as you have.”

“Thank you.” Beth didn’t think medieval women were as body conscious as women in the future were. At least, the peasant women weren’t. Any muscles built here were built through manual labor.

“And, too, she lacked your strength of will,” Robert continued. “Eleanor was a timid girl, her feelings easily injured by a mistress cruel enough to take advantage.” His voice hardened at the end.

“Why are you telling me this, Robert?”

“I wanted to wed her, Beth. It mattered not to me that I was nobly born and she was not. I wanted her for my wife. Even more so after she bore me a son.”

Beth bolted upright. “You have a son? You’re a father?” How had she not known that?

He tugged her back into his arms. “Let me finish.”

Her imagination exploded with images of a child-sized Robert racing about as she rapidly estimated the boy’s age and bit her lip to keep from asking Robert where he was. Didn’t they foster children out or send them off to be raised by someone else in medieval times?

“Eleanor was afraid to wed me. The countess knew of the love we shared and took great delight in filling Eleanor’s innocent ears with horrific tales of the torture she would endure at the hands of my family, were I to take her home with me.”

Beth frowned. “What kind of crap is that?”

Robert shook his head. “Had she not already heard rumors of Dillon’s cruelty—”

“I thought you said—”

“He is not.”

“Oh.”



“Bounteous gossip said otherwise, however, and reached Eleanor’s ears ere the countess poisoned them further. It took me until two months after our son Gabriel was born to convince her that all would be well if she returned to Westcott with me.”

“I don’t get it. Why did the countess want to prevent your marriage? Did she want you for herself or something?” He was pretty damned irresistible.

“Nay,” he said, his voice like flint. “She simply thrived on the wretchedness of others. The countess was never so happy as when those around her, including her husband, were miserable. Even had the differences in our stations not been an issue, she would have sought ways to prevent Eleanor and me from finding happiness together. And she delighted in spreading foul rumors and speaking poorly of others.”

“Oh. One of those.” Beth had met people like that in the past. There seemed to be far too many of them in the world. “Robert, I’m beneath your station. Why wouldn’t it be a problem with me?”

“Because all will believe me when I tell them you are a noblewoman from another land.”

Beth considered that. “With no way to disprove it, I suppose they would take your word for it?”

“Aye.”

“So what happened with Eleanor? Did you marry her?”

Robert tightened his arms around her and took a deep breath. “Nay. Eleanor and Gabriel both drowned three days after she agreed to return to Westcott with me.”

Shock swept through her. “Oh, no. Oh, Robert.” Wrapping her arms around him, she hugged him tight. “I’m so sorry, sweetie,” she whispered.

His hands fisted in her hair. “I have always regretted not wedding her when we had the chance,” he said, voice thick. “I do not wish you to leave me with the same regrets, Beth. Whether you remain here with me in this century or return to your own time, I want you for my wife. I love you.”