Rendezvous With Yesterday

by Dianne Duvall

A small, colorful, cylindrical object the size of his smallest finger rolled toward him, coming to rest against his shin. Robert picked it up and examined it. “What is this?” It appeared to be made of the plastic material she possessed so much of.

  “That’s lip balm. You rub it on your lips to protect them from the sun and keep them from getting chapped. Keeps them nice and soft.”

  He could attest to the softness of her lips, having explored them thoroughly with his own.

  Robert set the small tube down and contented himself with staring at the many fascinating objects arrayed before him. Amazingly, each appeared more interesting than the last. “For what do you search?”

  “Something with a date on it,” Beth murmured, wadding up the bloody tunic she refused to wash and dropping it over the side of the bed.

  Robert leaned forward so he could better see the items she uncovered as she moved things around. “Are there, perchance, more small scraps of black material in there?”

  Beth’s hands stilled. Her head came up. A teasing smile bloomed on her pretty face as her eyes met his. “Like my bra and panties, do you?”

  Unaccountably, Robert found himself blushing.

  She winked. “I’ll let you know if I find any.”

  As soon as she resumed her search, Robert directed a quick look down at his lap to ensure the loose shirt he had donned earlier concealed his arousal.

  “Aha! Here it is!”

  His pulse leapt as he looked up, expecting to see scraps of midnight dangling between her fingers.

  Alas, she held a folded pouch of some sort.

  “What is it?”

  “My wallet.” She unfolded it into a rectangle. “My birth date is on my driver’s license. So is the expiration date. See?” She withdrew a small, shiny piece of what appeared to be thick parchment from the wallet. Glancing at it, she started to lean forward and hand it to him. Her face fell. “Damn. It only gives the last two numbers, not the whole year. And I bet my credit card does the same thing.”

  As she started to tuck it away again, he caught a glimpse of the front of it. “Wait.”

  Pausing, she looked up. “What?”

  He motioned to it. “Is that a portrait, Beth? A miniature, mayhap?”

  She considered the card. “In a manner of speaking. It’s a picture ID. See?”

  Robert took the card she offered him and stared at it with amazement. Beth’s fair face smiled up at him beside a collection of numbers and words. “’Tis you! And ‘tis so clear!”

  She shrugged. “As far as driver’s license pictures go, I guess it’s a pretty good one. My last one was horrible. My eyes were half-closed and my mouth was open because I was answering a question the DMV lady asked just before she snapped the picture. I looked like a zombie.”

  Robert knew not what a zombie was, but could not imagine Beth looking less appealing than she did in the miniature he held. “’Tis beautiful. The artist captured you perfectly. Though he added a bit of color to your eyes and lips.”

  Beth laughed. “Actually, that was me. It’s makeup. A little eye liner, a little shadow, and some lipstick. After that last picture, I was trying to look my best.”

  Robert frowned. “You stained your lips and eyes?”

  “Aye.”

  “Why?”

  “I told you. I was trying to look my best, enhance what nature gave me, work with what I got, however you want to put it. That’s what women do in my time.”

  He let his disapproval show. “You have no need of enhancement. Your beauty transcends such senseless artifice.”

  Beth seemed taken aback.

  Did she think he insulted her?

  Leaning forward onto her hands and knees, she touched her lips to his. Once. Twice. Almost making him forget where they were and what they discussed.

  “What was that for?” he asked hoarsely when she leaned back an inch or two.

  She smiled. “For being you.” A third kiss followed, heating his blood and robbing him of rational thought. Just as he decided to drop the portrait and drag her up against him, she broke away and sat back on her heels.

  Robert’s heart pounded as he watched her retrieve her wallet once more.

  “There must be something with a date on it in here,” she muttered.

  Only half-listening, Robert returned his attention to the miniature in his rough hands. He rubbed his thumb across the cold, smooth surface, trying to suppress thoughts of lunging across the pile in front of him and stripping Beth of the robe that now gaped in marvelous places. “What manner of portrait is this? I can feel neither the texture of the canvas nor the paint. And it shines like glass.”

  “It isn’t a portrait. It’s a photograph.” She spelled the word for him. “Look. Here’s my dental appointment reminder card. It has the full date written on it.” She handed him a small piece of thick parchment. “Photos are more common than paintings in my time because they’re pretty much instant. You point your camera or phone or tablet, press the button, and the image is recorded. Then you just hook your device up to a printer, pop in some photo quality paper, and voila, instant picture.”

  The card in Robert’s hand boasted an unfamiliar coat of arms, along with printed and scrawled words he could not understand. “What language is this?”

  “English.”

  “It cannot be. I cannot read it.”

  “I know. English has changed quite a bit since the thirteenth century. If my mom hadn’t been a literature professor, she wouldn’t have made me learn Middle English and I wouldn’t have been able to understand a word you said.” She wrinkled her nose. “Actually I still have trouble on occasion.”

  “I thought you understood me well.”

  “Then I must fake it better than I thought. Anyway, the words on that card aren’t that important. It just lists my doctor’s address, email address, phone number and fax number and gives the date. Can you read those numbers there?”

  “Aye.”

  “Well that’s the year.”

  Robert stared at the four digit number.

  “See. Twenty-first century.” Suddenly, her eyes widened. “I can’t believe I didn’t think of this! Coins!” She flipped her wallet over.

  His head snapped up. “Coins?”

  “Yes! Coins. Each one has the year it was minted imprinted on it.” She unzipped a small pocket and dumped a number of very small coins into her palm. Some were copper colored. Some were a dull silver. Some had smooth edges, some slightly rough. “Look, here’s a quarter from 2006.” She pressed it into his palm.

  With a face on one side and a mountain range on the other, it resembled no coin Robert had ever seen and was indeed stamped with the date 2006.

  “There are two dates on this. 2006 and 1876.”

  “Oh. 1876 must’ve been the year Colorado achieved statehood. Look. Here’s a penny from 2014. And a nickel from 1993. Another nickel from 2001. A quarter from 1998. A penny from 2001. 1994. 1976. 2004. 1990. Ooh, here’s an old one. A dime from 1953.”

  One after another, she handed them over. All had faces and profiles on one side and a variety of images on the other. All boasted dates that ranged from the mid-twentieth century to the early twenty-first.

  “Wait,” she said suddenly. “My phone.” She reached for the object she had repeatedly used to try to call nine one one the day he had met her. Snatching it up, she clambered over her pile of belongings and settled herself close beside him.

  “What are you doing?” he asked.

  “Taking our picture. Now look at the phone and smile.”

  She pressed her cheek to his and held up the cell phone. A flash of light blinded him.

  Blinking, he raised one hand and rubbed his eyes.

  Beth lowered the phone, looked down at it, and touched its smo
oth surface.

  She laughed. “I said smile, not frown.”

  Robert followed her gaze and felt his jaw drop. A miniature image of himself stared back, his cheek pressed to Beth’s. Beth was grinning and looked adorable. He was scowling and looked suspicious. The image was as crisp and clean as the one on her I. D. And Robert had no explanation for how she could have created it other than the one she had given him.

  Beth had traveled back in time.

  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.”

  “Not as much as I am used to experiencing, I’ll bet.”

  He sobered. “I did not say ’twould be easy, Beth. Or immediate. Or that there would not, of necessity, have to be concessions made by both of us if you choose to begin a new life with me.” Setting her license aside, he braced one hand on the bed behind her and leaned in close. “But would the reward not be worth a few compromises on both our parts?”

  Heat bled into her back from his large, muscled arm.

  Beth licked lips that suddenly felt too dry.

  His eyes followed the motion of her tongue.

  “Yes,” she decided.

  “Aye,” he corrected, with affection, not censure.

  “Aye.” It was hard to think straight when he was so close and tempting.

  “Then you will stay?” he asked, still staring at her lips with growing hunger.

  “What if I can’t?” she posed softly. “I don’t know how I came to be here, Robert. I don’t know what brought me here. What if whatever did it takes me back one day?”

  Something dark flickered briefly in the gaze he raised to meet hers. “Then we shall revel in whatever time has been allotted us and not waste another moment of it.”

  Beth nodded, her pulse picking up. “If that’s the plan,” she whispered, “then you’d better hurry up and kiss me.”

  He did not hesitate to obey.

  Combing the fingers of his free hand through her hair, he cupped the back of her head in his palm and lowered his head. His lips touched hers. Clung. Seduced. Sparked heat. Then withdrew.

  Beth found it difficult to catch her breath as she looked up at him.

  One masculine eyebrow rose.

  She managed a slight nod. “That was great.” Even to her own ears, her voice sounded husky. “Now do it again.”

  Laugh lines appeared at the corners of his eyes. Shifting slightly, Robert smiled. “I believe I am going to enjoy this independent spirit of yours.”

  “Remember you said that later,” she advised, “when it makes you want to scream.”

  He leaned forward, hesitating when only an inch separated their lips. Those mesmerizing eyes of his were dark and stormy with desire. His nose brushed hers as their gazes met and held. Anticipation rose. A half inch closer. Mouths still not meeting. Tempting without touching. Teasing with the
knowledge of what would come, what she would feel, until she could bear it no longer and moved the last fraction of an inch closer, pressing her lips to his and surrendering with a moan.

  Lightning sizzled through Beth’s veins, heating her blood and speeding her pulse until she thought her heart might burst. The things he did…

  Parting her lips, he slipped his tongue inside to stroke and scintillate with heart-rending tenderness and a growing urgency that soon had precious parts of her body tingling and longing for his touch. Never had she been so turned on by a kiss. Never had she wanted so much more.

  Just as she decided to throw her arms around him and climb onto his lap, he broke the kiss.

  Her heart slammed against her rib cage as he shifted.

  He gave the nape of her neck a last caress, then slid his hand around and down ever so slowly, pausing fractionally so his thumb could trace circles over the pulse that beat wildly at the base of her throat. Then that callused heat slipped beneath the neckline of her robe and eased it across her shoulder.

  Beth followed his avid gaze, watched his tanned hand mold itself to her pale, lightly freckled skin, massaging gently, enthralling her with the difference in the texture of his skin and hers.

  The robe slipped over his knuckles and fell almost to the bend of her elbow. Midnight material dipped low in front, baring the upper curve of one breast.

  He stilled.

  Beth did, too.

  Then he moved those rough-to-the-touch fingers again, creating a delicious friction as he abandoned her shoulder and trailed a path of fire across her chest. He followed the line of her collarbone, fondling the faint hollow above it, then eased the robe lower.

  Her whole body flushed with desire as he cradled her bare breast in his palm. Her breath caught as he gave it a squeeze.

  His eyes rose, met hers, as his thumb brushed across the taut, rosy peak.

  Gasping, she arched her back, leaning into his touch as sensation rocked her.

  His voice, when he spoke, dropped an octave. “Mayhap tonight I will make you scream.”

  Excitement skittered through her. “Holy crap.”