“What haven’t I told you already? I live in a loft. It’s a big open space—”
“You live outdoors?”
“No, I mean there are no separate rooms. It’s just like one big room. We all have screens and alcoves for privacy.”
“How many of you live there?”
“There are five of us.”
“Two men and three women,” he grumbled and scowled for all he was worth. Kes was impressed that he’d listened to every word she’d spoken, at least about her roommates. She suspected he didn’t like the fact that she lived with two men. Did that mean he believed her? She didn’t know why it was so important to her if he did. What could he do to help? The realization of it all sank in a little deeper. Chances are she was stuck here. The Earl of Scarborough was all kinds of good looking, and he seemed nice enough when he wasn’t growling like a bear at his cousin or cutting men to smithereens.
But home was…home. It was everything she knew. Everything and everyone she loved. She wanted to go home. She felt the sting of her tears and could not keep them from falling.
“Do you think I’ll get back?”
He looked at her, scowl fading, his expression softening. “I do not know. But if there is a way, I will help you find it.”
She stopped breathing for a second. She wanted to jump into his arms. He would help her. He didn’t need to believe her. She needed his help and he was giving it. “Thank you,” she whispered.
He seemed ruffled. She remembered him on the battlefield. He was a warrior fighting a war. He was confident and utterly savage, his hair flying into his face as he drove his blade into a man. Yet here he was with her, awkward and uncomfortable.
She liked him. She knew the dangers of getting involved, but she liked him. And now….she took a step forward in the wet sand and almost leaned against him when she lifted her face to kiss his cheek.
She felt his warm breath change against her neck becoming shallow and short. She withdrew at the same time an upward gust of wind blew her hair into his face. She looked up and smiled. “Where should we start?”
His breath stopped, and then he blinked and stepped away. He began walking back toward the castle. She felt awful but she didn’t think anything could come of them. The one guy who might be decent and loyal had to be almost six hundred years in the wrong time. Great.
“The brooch,” he said, turning when she followed him.
“You think there might be one here?” she asked with excitement.
“Or mayhap someone who knows about it.”
“Like who?”
“I know a man in the next town who studies artifacts and, like you, history. He is the one who supplied me with most of my books.”
“When can we go talk to him?”
“We?”
He looked at her with his sensual half-smile and set her blood rushing through her veins.
“Of course I’m coming, Nicholas. Even if this man knows absolutely nothing about the brooch, he’s a historian. Do you really think I’ll miss out on meeting him and seeing his collection? I only wish I had my camera.”
“Camera?”
She told him what she knew of cameras and what they did. Nicholas was fascinated.
“Here, do this with your hand.” She took it, trying and failing miserably not to thrill in the size of his fingers, the hard, callused skin underneath. She held his hand up, his arm out, level with his gaze, then molded his fingers as if he were holding a phone. “Look at the image you want to capture and then use your thumb to take the photo.”
She hurried ahead of him then spun around with one hand on her hip. She pouted, then smiled, each time changing herpose.
He smiled with her and tapped away, capturing her in their invisible phone.
“We can take selfies, too!” She ran to him and pushed an imaginary button on the phone. “The lens is on you now—and me!”
She closed in and held her hand up toward the phone. “Smile!”