Rendezvous With Yesterday (The Gifted Ones #2)(122)
A charged silence followed.
Curious about these men who were so important to his wife, Robert stepped up behind her.
They were tall, matching his and Josh’s height. Both were dressed casually in the jeans and T-shirts that were so common in this time. One of the men had black hair that was almost as long as Beth’s. It framed a handsome face graced with dark eyes, a mustache and a beard that covered his chin, but left the rest of his jaw bare.
The other man, however, was the one who drew and held Robert’s attention.
His skin was a warm, dark brown. Darker than Robert had ever seen. Was he a Moor, like those Dillon had told him tales of after returning from King Richard’s crusade?
The man’s head was clean-shaven and shone beneath the overhead lights. His face was handsome, angular, highlighted by brown eyes and a mustache and beard similar to the other man’s. But while the first man’s short beard was as straight as his hair, the Moor’s was wavy and curly.
Both men stared at Beth as though she were a spirit, their faces a study in shock. Then they lunged forward simultaneously.
Beth held up her arms, waggling her fingers and dancing on her toes. The Moor reached her first, sweeping her up into his arms and holding her tight, her feet dangling above the floor. The other man impatiently awaited his turn, his gaze flickering to Robert’s and holding.
Setting her down, the Moor stepped back.
Beth leaped into the second man’s arms.
Robert ruthlessly tamped down the jealousy that threatened to rise. Loving Beth meant accepting her penchant for openly expressing affection for men she considered her friends, often through physical overtures like this. He knew she meant naught improper, so he resolved not to let it bother him.
When the second man stepped back, the first embraced her again. “Are you all right?”
Though the Moor spoke Beth’s modern English, Robert had learned enough to understand his meaning, if not every word.
Beth nodded. “I’m fine.”
Loosening his hold, the Moor slid his hands down her arms and grasped her fingers. “We thought—” He broke off, lips tightening, throat working in a swallow. “We thought you were dead or…” He shook his head, unable to continue.
Sniffling, Beth gave his hands a squeeze. “I know. I’m sorry.”
“What happened?” the other asked, voice hoarse.
Robert was touched to see that both men battled tears.
“I’ll tell you everything. I promise.” Beth withdrew one of her hands and reached back to touch Robert’s arm, urging him forward. “But first I want you to meet Robert. If it wasn’t for him, I wouldn’t have found my way back to you.”
The Moor instantly held out his hand. “I’m Grant. Nice to meet you, Robert. Thank you for helping Beth.”
Robert shook his hand. “In truth, I did very little, Grant.”
The Moor cast Beth a look. Robert had tried to speak modern English, but thought his accent had probably distorted it quite a bit.
The other man offered his hand and shook his head. “You brought Beth back to us. Thank you. I’m Marc.”
Perhaps his pronunciation hadn’t been that bad after all. “Pleasure to meet you, Marc.”
Across the room, Josh clapped his hands together. “Okay. Everyone has been introduced. Beth has a long, astonishing tale to tell. I’m sure Grant and Marc are as eager to hear it as I was. My scrumptious Cornish hens are eager to be consumed. So, let’s gather around the table and oblige everyone. Beth, don’t forget the pictures.”
Two days later, Robert found himself standing on the covered front porch of Marc’s two-story home. Though he had only been outside long enough to walk here from Bethany’s house next door, already damp patches formed on his shirt.
The sun beat down behind him as he turned the knob and pushed.
The door did not open. Perhaps it was barred from the inside. He had not asked Beth the custom for visiting neighbors here. But when he visited castles of friends and acquaintances in his time, he awaited his host in the great hall.
Wiping the dampness from his forehead, he tried the door again, then noticed a strange glowing circle surrounded by a golden ring embedded in the door frame. Curious, he poked it with his finger.
Bing bong.
Glancing up, he looked for the source of the curious chimes, but saw no bells. Pursing his lips, he pressed the circle again. Bing bong. It sounded as if the bells might be inside the house. Robert pressed the circle again, experimenting.
Bing bong. Bingbongbingbongbingbong. Bing. Bong. Bing bong. Bingbong bingbong.
The door swung inward. Squinting against the bright light, Marc peered out at him, keeping in the shadows. “My lord?”
Beth had revealed Robert’s title the night she had told her friends where she had spent the past two years. Odd, though. For a moment, when Marc had spoken the words, he had sounded almost like an Englishman.
“Ah. Marc. I was just familiarizing myself with your bell here.”
“So I heard,” he said with a wry smile. “Come in.”
Clasping his hands behind his back, Robert stepped inside and stood back while Marc closed the door. Robert was not sure why, but he had felt an instant affinity with this man. Mayhap it was simply because Marc seemed to have the least amount of difficulty understanding Robert’s antiquated speech, something that had even surprised Beth. “’Tis wondrous cool in here.”