Rendezvous With Yesterday (The Gifted Ones #2)(80)

Beth gave them a curt nod of her own. “Good. Now let’s get back to work.”

It took a while, but eventually conversation began to flow once more as hands resumed lifting and scrubbing.

Few spoke to Alice.

Those who did were careful not to taunt her.

Strolling over to Michael, Beth decided to help him prop up the wall for a few minutes while she considered how she might extract a promise from him not to repeat what he had witnessed. It took her several minutes to gather the nerve to glance up at him.

When she did, she groaned.

He was grinning from ear to ear.

“So help me, if you say one word to Robert about all of this, I will—”

“Grind me into the dirt?” he suggested cheerfully.

“Aye,” she growled.

He laughed. “Fear not, my lady. If ’tis your wish, I will not inform Lord Robert that he is yours.”

Groaning again, she covered her face with her hands.





Robert whistled a cheerful ditty as he entered the bailey, his spirit lighter than it had been in some time, despite his inability to locate his enemy. Another fortnight had passed, and no further attacks had ensued, leaving him with the hope that Michael and Stephen had been right and his enemy had moved on.

Work on the outer wall progressed rapidly.

Davey was up and walking about.

Sir Miles and Sir Winston had both survived their wounds and were slowly recovering as well.

And somewhere in the keep before him, he would find the woman who had brought joy and passion back into his life.

A roar of masculine laughter swelled on the air, echoing off the stone walls.

Pausing, Robert glanced around, seeking its source.

All was as it should be. No men loitered anywhere that he could see in groups large enough to have created such a ruckus.

Curious, he continued on toward the practice field.



Another roar of laughter buffeted him.

Cupping his hand above his eyes to shield them from the sun, Robert looked up at the men atop the curtain walls. Not only were they not laughing, they, too, seemed to search for the source of it.

A stern frown sent them hieing back to their posts.

When Robert reached the practice field, he found it deserted.

His captain slumped on a bench against the keep, glowering fiercely and muttering to himself.

“Why are the men not training?” Robert demanded, bearing down on him.

“Lady Bethany called them away,” the burly warrior spat, obviously furious at having had his authority usurped by a woman.

“All of them?”

“Aye.”

“For what purpose?”

“I told her the men would be at her disposal once their training was done for the day, that the threat remained and the men must be ready to defend the keep.”

“For what purpose?” Robert repeated.

“’Twas women’s work, I told her! Not fit for a man’s attention, not when he has training to complete! But she would hear none of it.”

“For. What. Purpose?” Sooner or later the words would penetrate.

“I thought she understood when she left, but here she came, dragging a blanket piled high with the men’s gear, determined to toss it into the moat if they did not—”

“Faudron!”



His captain jumped. “Aye, my lord?”

“Where is Lady Bethany?”

“Entertaining the men in the north tower.”

Fury struck like lightning. Grabbing Faudron by the throat, Robert hoisted him off the bench and shoved him back against the wall.

Face mottling, eyes bulging, the man struggled to get his next words out before he suffocated. “N-not that kind of entertaining.”

Robert drew him forward, then slammed him against the wall again.

“C-cleaning!” Faudron sputtered. “Cleaning, my lord.”

Irritated beyond belief, Robert opened his fists and let the man drop down onto the bench again. “Explain.”

Coughing, Faudron complied. “She is forcing the men to clean the north tower, my lord. Called it a filthy pig sty and insisted that if they left it for her to do, she would toss aught she found lying on the floor into the moat. The men did not take her seriously until she began to do just that.”

“The men ignored her request?” Robert found himself torn between anger that the men had disobeyed her and dismay that she had asked them to abandon their training for so trivial a task.

“I, ah, did not think you would wish them to cease their training and, ah…,” the man stammered, searching for an answer that wouldn’t increase Robert’s ire.

Shaking his head, Robert turned and started toward the north tower. “Never show her disrespect again, Faudron, or you shall answer to me.”

“Aye, my lord.” The man did not sound thrilled by the notion.



As Robert approached the open doorway of the tower, another wave of laughter poured through it. A couple of men lingering outside grinned and nudged each other until they caught sight of the approaching earl. Then, smiles vanishing, they bowed and hurried away.

Frowning, Robert slowed his pace and actually found himself slinking closer to the wall outside the doorway so those inside would not see him.

“Give us another, my lady!” a boisterous male voice called out. ’Twas one of Robert’s more spirited knights, young and having only recently earned his spurs.