Rendezvous With Yesterday (The Gifted Ones #2)(23)

“Beth,” he warned in a low voice, his left hand clenching in her shirt, “remain behind me.”

“I am.” Even as she spoke, she extended her right arm beneath his and aimed her .22 at the forest Berserker studied so intently.

Robert’s chin dipped as he glanced down at her weapon.

Berserker nickered a greeting to whomever or whatever approached.

The muscles beneath the tunic Beth clutched relaxed.

Robert spoke over his shoulder, amusement lightening his voice. “You may lower your weapon. ’Tis one of my men.”

As soon as she did, he let go of her and turned around, lowering his sword tip until it nearly touched the ground.

Beth couldn’t quite decipher his expression as she took a step back to place a little distance between them. “What?”



“You sought to protect me,” he stated.

“So?” When his teeth flashed in a grin, she realized she should have denied it. “How do you know I wasn’t just protecting myself?” she bluffed.

“Your flushed cheeks tell me otherwise.”

Damn her fair skin for betraying her! “Okay,” she admitted. “I was protecting you. So what? You were protecting me.”

Robert shook his head. “Were I not so relieved to discover that you have not taken me into dislike, I would feel insulted.”

Beth rolled her eyes. “Why? Because the tiny, helpless woman was trying to defend the big, bad— Wait a minute. What? What was that about being glad I don’t dislike you?”

His smile contorting into a grimace, he motioned to her handgun. “Mayhap you should sheath your weapon now.”

“Oh, no you don’t. Answer the question.”

He released a beleaguered sigh. “’Tis only that I thought mayhap I said or”—he looked away, a slight flush darkening his tanned, masculine cheeks—“did something to offend you. If I did,” he hurried to say, “’twas not my intention and I do ask your forgiveness.”

Beth stared up at him, another chunk of the ice her mind had struggled to fill her heart with melting. “You didn’t offend me, Robert,” she assured him softly. “I’m just worried. And scared. And confused. I don’t understand what has happened to me. Or why it has happened. Or”—she shrugged—“whom I should trust.”

“Trust me,” he said, his gaze sharpening. “You can trust me, Beth. I vow it.”

“I want to. I really do.” And she did, though she probably shouldn’t.

The heart that had just melted turned over in her breast when he offered her a gentle smile. “Then I hope that my men will bring you good tidings.”

The foliage across the clearing parted as Adam’s horse nosed its way into view. When his eyes lit upon them—standing a couple of feet apart, each with weapons in hand—the quiet man halted. “Is aught amiss?” he queried carefully.

“Nay,” Robert answered.

Beth returned the .22 to her ankle sheath, then approached the warrior. “Did you find Josh? Is he okay?”

Adam dismounted, face sober. “I regret that I did not find him. Nor did I find any sign of the marauders who attacked you.”

Her throat began to close up. “What about the car? Did you find our car? A silver four door in desperate need of a wash?”

His gaze went briefly to Robert. “Nay. I encountered no such thing.”

Robert settled a large warm hand on her shoulder and gave it a light squeeze. “Michael and Stephen have not yet returned,” he murmured, compassion in his gaze. “Mayhap they have had more success.”

She swallowed hard. “And if they haven’t?”

“Then I shall send two score men to search the forest as soon as we reach Fosterly.”

Numb, Beth allowed him to guide her over to the fire, where Robert sat close without touching her, offering his support while they waited.

“Maybe we should have kept looking,” she murmured. “Maybe we shouldn’t have stopped.” Images of Josh, lying out there, bleeding from his wounds, assaulted her.

What if he bled out overnight?

“Searches are best carried out in daylight,” Robert said. “At night, even with torches, we could easily pass by him without seeing him. And if he is unable to call for help…”

She closed her eyes. Please, let him be well enough to call for help.

A short time later, the soft sounds of horse hooves accompanied by off-key whistling caught her ear.



She stood.

When Stephen entered the small clearing alone, her heart sank.

“What news?” Robert questioned him, rising beside her.

Stephen dismounted and somberly delivered his report. “My search bore no success. I regret that I could not bring you better tidings, Mistress Bethany.”

Hope vanished. “Thank you anyway,” she said through numb lips.

Beth retook her seat by the fire and stared blankly into the dancing flames. But its warmth could not penetrate the cold that encased her.

The men cast her sympathetic glances and tiptoed around the clearing as though they thought the slightest sound or disturbance might set her to weeping and wailing at the top of her lungs.

She swallowed hard. Perhaps they were right. As she awaited Michael’s arrival, she felt as brittle and fragile as an eggshell. Easily shattered. As she feared she would be if Michael did not return with Josh riding behind him.