Rendezvous With Yesterday (The Gifted Ones #2)(17)
Stephen grunted.
“The scars could be from old wounds,” Adam murmured.
Michael tilted his head to one side. “What of the holes in her clothing?”
Adam shrugged. “Are all of your tunics new and undamaged? Mayhap she has not the coin to replace hers.”
Stephen nodded. “The blood could belong to this Josh fellow. Mayhap whatever she witnessed has made her retreat to a previous attack she suffered and she is confusing the two. Sir William once told me that when he saw a fellow crusader cut down a woman in the Holy Land, he flew into a rage and killed the man. When his thoughts finally cleared, William found himself weeping over the woman’s corpse and calling her by his wife’s name.”
Robert frowned. “Was his wife not slain here in England?”
“Aye, and ’tis what Sir William saw whilst he defended the woman in the Holy Land and struck down her attacker.”
“I said no peeking!” Bethany yelled. “Where are you guys?”
Robert called back, “We stand where you left us!”
“All of you?”
“Aye!” the men chorused loudly.
“Just making sure!”
“What do you intend to do with her?” Stephen asked, voice soft.
“If we do not find this Josh she seeks, I will offer her shelter at Fosterly until we learn more.”
“And if you never learn more?”
“I know not.”
Twigs snapped and foliage rustled as Bethany moved into view and headed toward them. The pouch with the fascinating zipper was now looped over one shoulder and rested against her back. “Sorry to keep checking,” she said, “but I had a sudden vision of my bare bottom being plastered all over Facebook.”
Michael’s eyebrows flew up. “What?”
Robert gazed down at her dirt-smudged, blood-speckled face and found himself fervently hoping she was not touched in the head.
“So what’s the plan?” she asked. “Are we going to split up so we can cover more ground? Or should we go wherever it is you guys came from and get help there?”
Beginning to see a pattern in her speech, which was an odd combination of familiar and foreign words, Robert considered the question. “’Twould take us mayhap half a day to reach Fosterly.”
“What’s Fosterly?”
“My castle.”
“I assume by castle, you mean reenactment group meeting place.”
Robert did not know how to respond to that, so he opted not to. “There is little light left, however.”
Beth glanced at the sky and frowned. “I hadn’t even noticed.”
“If your Josh’s condition is as dire as you say it is, I believe ’twould be wisest to continue searching for him.”
Relief entered her greenish-brown eyes. “That would be my choice as well. The thought of leaving the area, of leaving him even for a few hours when he might be bleeding to death is…”
“I understand. Do you know where we may find him?”
“No.” Her brow furrowed as she glanced around. “None of this looks familiar to me. But if we’re near the Woodlands, we should probably head north. Or maybe west. Or northwest. I’m just not sure.”
“Since you are uncertain, we shall each travel in a different direction. Will Josh recognize your possessions?”
“Aye.”
“Then Michael will take your pack. Stephen will take that.” He nodded at the long narrow bag on the ground.
“My tent?” she asked as Stephen bent to retrieve it.
“Aye,” Robert said, though he failed to understand how the makings of a tent could fit into such a small bag. “And Adam will take this.” He handed Adam Beth’s largest weapon. “If any of you find Josh and he doubts Bethany has sent you looking for him, show him her belongings.”
Beth nodded. “And please speak slowly when you see him so he can understand you.”
The men all agreed.
Robert motioned to his destrier. “You may once more ride with me on Berserker.”
The hazel eyes that met his carried both fear and dread. “We will find him, won’t we?”
Robert tucked a stray curl behind her ear. “I hope so, Bethany.”
“You can call me Beth.”
He smiled. “As you wish, Beth.”
Taking her backpack from her, he handed it to Michael. “Shall we?”
Chapter Four
Michael rode to the south, Adam to the west, and Stephen to the east.
Robert rode to the north with Bethany perched on his lap.
She had insisted on riding astride this time, her shapely bottom snug against his groin, her thighs molded to his, generating a heat that drove him to distraction. Because of her fear of horses, he had expected her to remain tense. But she had surprised him, relaxing and leaning back against him most of the time.
He held Berserker’s reins in one hand. The other arm he wrapped around her narrow waist, smiling when she folded her hands comfortably atop it.
It would have been a pleasant journey had her concern not permeated the air around them. Every few minutes she would pull the odd sellfone from her pocket, stroke it with her thumb, then mutter and tuck it away again. Then she would draw a large hunting knife from its sheath on her thigh, hold it up in front of her like a cross, then put it away. A few minutes later she would shout Josh’s name three times, pausing in between to listen for a response. When none came, she would rest a moment, then reach again for her sellfone, and the cycle would begin anew.