The way he said her name made her cheeks warm again.
Later,as the hunting party regrouped by a stream to water the horses, Beth found herself alone with Baldwin. The others had moved upstream, giving them a rare moment of privacy.
She knelt by the water’s edge, washing the dirt from her hands. The stream was crystal clear, so cold it numbed her fingers almost instantly. Baldwin crouched beside her, his reflection wavering in the rippling surface.
“Thank you,” he said quietly. “For saving Brutus.”
“Anyone would have done the same if they knew what it was,” Beth replied, shaking water droplets from her hands.
“But they did not know. You did.” His eyes, when she met them, were intense. “Your knowledge is... remarkable.”
Beth looked away, suddenly self-conscious. “In my time, this would be basic high school biology.”
“In your time,” Baldwin repeated, his voice thoughtful. He picked up a smooth stone and turned it over in his palm. “Do you still think of returning?”
The question caught her off guard. Did she? At first, she’d been determined to recreate the accident that had brought her here. But lately...
“Less and less,” she admitted. “I miss certain conveniences. Indoor plumbing, antibiotics, coffee, but...”
“But?” he prompted when she fell silent.
Beth looked up at him, at the strong lines of his face softened by the dappled sunlight filtering through the leaves. “But there are things here I would miss more if I left.”
Baldwin’s eyes darkened. He reached out, brushing a strand of hair from her face with gentle fingers. “What things?” he asked, his voice a low rumble that she felt more than heard.
Beth’s breath caught in her throat. “People,” she whispered. “Connections I never expected to make.”
He leaned closer, his gaze dropping to her lips. Beth’s heart hammered against her ribs, and she found herself leaning toward him, drawn by an invisible force she couldn’t resist.
A twig snapped loudly in the underbrush.
They jerked apart as Sir Roland emerged from the trees, leading his horse. He paused, taking in their proximity with a knowing smirk.
“Forgive the interruption,” he said, not sounding remotely apologetic. “The others are ready to continue.”
Baldwin stood abruptly, offering Beth his hand. “We’ll join them presently.”
Beth accepted his help, her skin tingling where his fingers wrapped around hers. For a brief moment, their eyes met, and she saw in his gaze a promise, or perhaps a question, before he turned away.
By the timethey returned to the castle, the sun was setting, painting the stone walls with golden light. Beth’s body ached in places she hadn’t known could ache, but there was a satisfaction in having completed the day’s ride without falling off her horse.
Baldwin helped her dismount, his hands lingering at her waist a moment longer than necessary before he stepped back.
“You did well today,” he said, his voice formal in a way it hadn’t been by the stream.
Beth searched his face, trying to understand the sudden shift. “Thank you for your patience. I know I slowed everyone down.”
“Not at all.” He handed Rosalind’s reins to a stable boy. “If you’ll excuse me, I must speak with Sir Roland about tomorrow’s training.”
Before she could respond, he strode away, leaving her standing alone in the courtyard.
That evening, she joined the household for supper in the great hall. The trestle tables were laden with roasted meats, bread, and early spring vegetables. Normally, Baldwin would gesture for her to sit beside him, but tonight he was deep in conversation with Father Gregory, seemingly oblivious to her entrance.
Eleanor waved her over. “Come sit with me,” she said, patting the bench beside her. “I hear you saved my brother’s favorite hound today.”
Beth slid onto the bench, her eyes straying to Baldwin. “It was nothing. Just lucky timing.”
“The men speak of little else,” Eleanor said, tearing a chunk of bread. “Roland says you knew at a glance what would kill the beast.”
