Rendezvous With Yesterday (The Gifted Ones #2)(39)

Robert paced back and forth from one side of the road to the other, his gaze fastened on Bethany’s back.

For almost an hour, she had stood motionless at the top of the hill, limbs stiff, fists clenched, eyes wide, face bloodless. Occasionally her lips would move, but damned if he could hear one word of whatever she spoke.

Every once in a while she would squeeze her eyes shut and shake her head as though in denial.

Glancing to one side, he gauged the response of his men. The three of them lounged in the grass at the edge of the forest, having grown weary of waiting. Though they talked in low voices that eluded him, he did not doubt they speculated about whatever madness afflicted her.



His gaze swerved back to Bethany, unsurprised to find she had not moved.

She just stood there, staring at his castle, his domain, his grandest possession, with what appeared to be revulsion.

A sour feeling invaded his stomach.

Fosterly was the largest of his estates. Today he had found himself anticipating their arrival home with joy and pride, eager to show it to her, hoping she would be impressed by it.

It was everything he had dreamed of and thought he would never have.

And she abhorred it.

Why?

Losing patience, he marched toward her. “Beth,” he issued curtly as he reached for her shoulder, “I insist that you tell me what is amiss.”

He had not truly expected her to cooperate since she had ignored all of his previous attempts to communicate. So she caught him off guard when, at the first touch of his hand, she turned on him.

“What have you done?” she demanded.

Robert frowned. Was she angry or frightened? He couldn’t tell.

“What have you done?” she shouted, backing away from him.

His own ire rising, he strove for patience. “Beth, I fail to comprehend why you are behaving so strangely. If you dislike Fosterly…”

In the next instant, she reversed direction and advanced on him with large, angry strides, quickly eating up the distance that separated them. “Where are my guns? I want them back.”

His frown deepened. “You are safe here. I have told you many times that you have naught to fear from us.” In truth, he was growing tired of having to repeat himself.

“I want my weapons back.”

“Beth—”

“Now!”

He stiffened. “’Twould be wise to—”

“I need them back!” she bellowed, eyes wild, breath short. “You have no right to keep them! You never should have taken them in the first place! Now give them to me!”



Had he not seen the absolute terror that glowed in her hazel eyes, he would have been furious that she dared speak to him thusly. Particularly in front of his men.

Not privy to her fear, they no doubt wondered why he did not deal out retribution.

It mattered not. Bethany’s entire body was quaking with fear.

“If you would but calm down,” he coaxed.

She took another step closer, so close she had to crane her neck to look up at him. “Give them to me, Robert.” Her voice softened to a whisper imbued with desperation. “You said I could trust you. If that’s true, then give them to me. Please. I need them.”

He had seen men dying on the battlefield who had held this same look of fear in their eyes. Dreading the inevitable, they had only been comforted by those things that were most familiar to them, things that lent them a false sense of security they could cling to until death claimed them. Naught else would appease them.

Nor, it seemed, would aught else appease Beth.



Swiveling, Robert crossed to Berserker and retrieved the two dark weapons that filled his palms, as well as the one that was the length of his arm.

His men watched in silence, faces alert, bodies tensing.

Beth waited for him in the road, shifting from foot to foot, chewing her lower lip, her gaze darting all around.

Returning to her, Robert held them out.

As he had expected, she reached for them as though they were strips of roasted venison and she were perishing of hunger. She confiscated one of the smaller weapons first. Giving it a swift inspection, she removed a thin object from the part of it that fit into her palm and replaced it with another she had tucked in a pocket of her breeches. Once satisfied, she put it in the leather sheath she had strapped to her hip over his tunic. The second weapon she inspected as well, then slid it into her belt.

The third and largest weapon she took in both hands. It appeared to have a handle similar to the others. Holding that with her right hand, she slid another part of it back with her left, revealing within a green object with a gold base.

Robert would have leaned forward for a closer look, but she closed it and looped the weapon’s strap over her shoulder in a way that left the weapon dangling beneath her arm, able to be raised at a moment’s notice.

That done, she looked up at him with wrinkled brow and chewed her lower lip.

“Beth.” How could he ease her fears if she would not speak them?

Swallowing hard, she glanced at the men behind him, then turned her gaze to the castle.

Why did the gray stone edifice disturb her so? He had seen many more imposing structures in his travels, beginning with his brother’s.

She wagged her head from side to side in silent despair. Her eyes met his once more, filling with moisture she didn’t bother to blink back.