Page 23 of Beloved Enemy
“He seems, um, the most approachable,” Charlotte decided. Quite frankly, aside from Lachlan, any other man looked mean, like he could or would kill you with his bare hands.
“Aye, and those are the Nicholson officers,” Reid said. “If ye have a need, ye see one of them.”
She was hoping that she wouldn’t have a need of anyone, not even Reid. She hoped to soon be returned to 2024 Scotland and put this...this harrowing fantasy far behind her.
“Where’s that water?” She asked. “I’ll go wash my face now. I hope everyone goes to bed early. I’m pooped.”
Reid stood and ignored Charlotte’s insistence that he only needed to point her in the right direction, saying, “I’ll take ye. Dinna be wandering off, even when ye ken it’s close enough to be safe, with nae escort.”
Dully, she guessed, “There really is no safe place in this... century?”
“Nae too many,” he admitted, directing her away from the fire and the light. “At Kingswood, aye, ye’ll ken a greater sense of peace.”
She chewed her lip a bit before daring to ask, “I don’t suppose you would want to return me to that place on the mountain where I believe I...where I must have stepped through a time-portal, or whatever they’re called?”
“Where the reivers found ye? Why would ye want to return there?”
“I don’t know, but I’m guessing there aren’t portals—doors through time—all over the place. And maybe I need to be there to get back to...the future.”
She slapped one hand over her face in mortification, absolutely hating how absurd, how ridiculous she sounded.Time portals? Back to the future?Christ, it was insane the way she was forced to talk now.
She saw the water before Reid had to point it out, the slow moving, nearly smooth surface shimmering as a silver cloud. Happily, she knelt in the dirt and gravel at the edge of it, and scooped it into her mouth, rinsing away the taste of the ale and all the other yuckiness since she hadn’t brushed her teeth in more than a day. She splashed her face, bemoaning the lack of her favorite cleanser and all her skincare products, and then washed her hands as best she could, flicking her wrists to remove the water when she was done.
Charlotte stood and faced Reid, who waited silently only a few feet away. She could barely make out his features, nor his expression, though presumed a scowl of some sort marked his face. “You didn’t answer my request, so I guess that’s a no.”
“Likely, we’ll head back out in a week or so,” he said. “Might be, we’ll find the last few reivers. I can take ye then.”
Ah, so hope was not dead.
“Thank you. Um, I don’t have a sleeping bag—a bedroll thing—so can I keep your blanket and sleep with this tonight?”
“'Tis a breacan,” he advised. He turned and began walking back to the camp, looking back to make sure she followed. “Ye can use my tent this night.”
“Oh, I don’t want to put you out. This should keep me warm.”
“'Tis nae wise to have ye exposed,” he said.
Little could she suppose from his tone, it being so indifferent, that she didn’t know if she heard resignation or some hint that he was mildly put out, feeling he had to offer his tent.
“But can I go to bed now?” She wondered as she trailed after him.
As they neared the firelight once more, this time the look he sent back at her was darkly incredulous. “In your...life, do ye often need permission to seek your bed?”
“Well, no,” she replied. “I just didn’t know if there was some, I don’t know, standard bedtime or....” She let that trail off, agreeing, in hindsight, that it might have been a silly question.
Reid shook his head and led her to his tent, which was a bit larger and set a bit apart from the others. Made of sturdy, tan canvas, Reid pulled open a flap, revealing it was empty inside except for a long, padded bedroll and a fur throw, which she assumed was the actual hide of some animal and not some smartly-priced faux thing bought at Home Goods.
“You’ll be comfortable enough here,” Reid said.
“Okay, but seriously,” she objected, “I can’t take your tent and your sleeping bagandyour fur blanket.”
“Ye want to sleep on the ground?” He challenged with impatience.
“Well, no, but...”
Ducking a bit, Reid entered the tent just barely and removed the fur, balling it in his arms. “Better?”
“Yes, thank you.” And she entered as he continued to hold the flap open for her. But then she turned once inside and faced him again, moving the canvas that he’d dropped to close. “Mr. Nicholson?” She called after him, her voice a little shaky once again. “Wait. Where will you be?”
