Rendezvous With Yesterday (The Gifted Ones #2)(89)

Beth bit back a laugh. His jaw had dropped a bit when she had climbed atop the horse and straddled it, her gown rucking up to her knees and leaving the legs she had talked him into shaving for her bare. All she wore beneath were the black panties he loved so much. And she had thought, for a moment, that he would rip his cloak in his haste to remove it, throw it across her lap and cover her.

“I think men just want women to ride sidesaddle because you’re afraid we’ll show you up,” she taunted. She didn’t think they called it sidesaddle yet, but they had become surprisingly adept at translating her modern speech, so she suspected they would catch her meaning.

Stephen, of course, took the bait. “Do you imply we fear you will best us?” he asked with some affront.

“Absolutely,” she affirmed. “If women were allowed to ride astride, you men would eat our dust.”

Stephen snorted. “Aside or astride. If one is skilled, it makes no difference.”

“Oh, yeah? Have you ever ridden sidesaddle?”

“Do I look like a woman to you?”

“Do you really want me to answer that?” she countered.

“Beth,” Robert cautioned as thunderclouds darkened the scruffy knight’s features.

Grinning unrepentantly, she tossed him a wink. “I can’t help it. He’s such an easy mark.”

“What is a mark?” Marcus asked.

“A target,” Beth clarified.

Robert’s lips twitched.

“Who is an easy target?” Stephen barked.

“You are,” Michael pointed out dryly.

Stephen grumbled something beneath his breath.

Beth laughed. “Adam wanted to teach me to ride sidesaddle,” she told Robert. “But I refused.”

“Why does that not surprise me?” he asked with a shake of his head.

“Because you adore my independent spirit?” she quipped.

“Ahhh. You did tell me to keep that in mind, did you not?” he responded with a smile.

Good. She was happy to see his mood lighten.

Quiet descended as they continued their journey.

Birdsong, the occasional hum of insects, and the sounds of small creatures scuttling about out of sight filled the air around them. This place and time was a nature lover’s paradise. Trees abounded, so tall their tips seemed to pierce the cottony clouds that drifted above them. Their leaves bore a deep healthy green color.



Closing her eyes, Beth drew in a deep cleansing breath. And the air was fresh and sweet. So much better than the stale, polluted air of Houston and so many other twenty-first-century cities.

An hour or so passed.

Every once in a while, just to keep things interesting, Beth would aggravate Stephen. It was becoming something of a hobby for her and seemed to amuse the others.

“My lady?” Marcus asked her. “Is it true that you were a warrior in your homeland?”

A warrior? “I guess you could say that.”

“Your menfolk allowed this?” Stephen groused.

She laughed. “They didn’t have much choice.”

Robert snorted, his lips curling up in a faint smile. “You had them wrapped around your little finger, did you not?”

Beth grinned. “Absolutely.”

Marcus regarded her with some amazement. “Verily, your father did not object?”

Beth reached over to give Robert’s arm a squeeze, then fell back to ride beside his squire, displacing Stephen, who joined Adam and Michael behind them.

The sun’s warm rays shone down upon them as they left the trees and entered a clearing roughly the size of a football field. Colorful wildflowers bobbed between tall, feathery grasses, infusing the air with a heady perfume. Dense green forest surrounded the meadow like stadium seats. A light cool breeze wove between the trees and set all into gentle, rolling motion.

So beautiful.

“Actually, my father did object,” she admitted. “He didn’t want me to have any part of bounty hunting. He thought it was too dangerous and wanted to keep me safe. But he died before I was old enough to decide for myself.”

Stephen grunted. “’Twas not your decision to make.”

Beth’s hackles rose. “Hey, where I come from—”

Fwuh-thmp.

Beth jerked her head back as something flew past her nose. Beside her, Marcus’s horse made an abrupt restive movement.

She turned to ask Marcus what it meant and felt her stomach sink like a stone. “Marcus!”

His face tight with pain, the squire gritted his teeth and gripped one thigh just above an arrow that was embedded in it.

The other men drew their swords.

Fwuh-thmp.

Beth cried out as a second arrow struck Marcus in his shoulder.

His face blanched. His body began to sway backward.

Beth lunged toward him and gripped his tunic to keep him from falling.

Men erupted from the forest on the opposite side of the clearing, their shouts answered by the warriors at her side.

Panic rose. Beth didn’t think she would be able to keep Marcus upright much longer. He might be young, but he still outweighed her by a good sixty or seventy pounds. “Robert!”

“Get to the trees!” Robert urged her.



She tossed a frantic glance over her shoulder.

What appeared to be a limitless number of men poured from the forest, all on foot. Their rough features twisted and contorted as they bellowed battle cries and thrust their swords high.