Rendezvous With Yesterday (The Gifted Ones #2)(98)

Robert grinned. “A contest of sorts. The men you see here have all failed in their quest for victory.”

Those closest to them either flushed or cursed. One muttered beneath his breath.

Robert laughed and dealt that one a soft kick to the ribs. “She warned you not to underestimate her.”

The man groaned and rubbed his side, feigning pain. “I shall never doubt her again, my lord.”

Dillon pounced on the word that most piqued his interest. “Her?”

Robert nodded. “Lady Bethany, the woman I intend to wed.”

Astonishment rendered Dillon mute.

Robert laughed and slapped him on the back. “Shocked you, did I? I am eager for you to meet her, brother. You will love her as we all do.” His brow furrowing suddenly, Robert peered over Dillon’s shoulder. “Where is Alyssa? Did she not accompany you?”

Still reeling, Dillon almost missed the anxiety that stole into his brother’s voice.

What was this, then? Robert almost sounded as if he hoped Dillon had come alone. “I rode ahead. She and the rest of our party will be along in a few hours.”

Something like resignation clouded his brother’s features. Then cheering and shouting broke out all around them. And Robert’s face lit up as he looked to the west.

Dillon followed his gaze.

A score or more of men appeared beyond the edge of the keep, jogging along the curtain wall. Unevenly spaced. Led by a squire. All but one of the men had doffed his armor. That one tossed aside his heavy gambeson even as Dillon watched. Several nigh the back looked as though they might drop from exhaustion at any moment.

Squinting, he thought he recognized Sir Stephen and Sir Adam just before the group disappeared behind the armory.

Bewildered, Dillon looked around the bailey. No one present engaged in their usual daily labors. Instead, as the runners came back into view, everyone jumped up and down, shrieking and shouting. The men and boys yelled encouragement to the soldiers, calling out names and confirming that two of them were indeed Sir Adam and Sir Stephen. The women and girls praised…



Dillon straightened.

They cheered for Lady Bethany.

Mouth falling open, he realized the squire leading the pack was not a squire at all, but a woman roughly Alyssa’s size.

Her slender form was clad in braies and a tunic belted tightly around her narrow waist. Her feet were encased in mannish boots, her long brown hair pulled back in such a way that it resembled a horse’s tail that bounced and jounced with every step. Damp curls sprang loose to surround what, even from this distance, appeared to be a pretty, though flushed face.

This was the woman his brother intended to wed?

A shrill, ear-piercing whistle split the air beside him as the group neared the barbican.

Cringing, Dillon gaped at his brother, who grinned widely as he waved to the woman.

Waving back, she smiled and shouted in oddly accented English, “Hi, sweetie! It will not be long now!”

The men behind them all groaned.

Robert laughed and—to Dillon’s complete and utter astonishment—blew the woman a kiss.

The crowd’s cheering and goading continued until the group disappeared around the eastern corner of the keep.

Two men staggered around the western corner, dropped to their knees, then sprawled backward on the grass, gasping for air.

“Robert,” Dillon said.

“Aye?”

“Explain.”

Chuckling, Robert clapped him on the back and guided him over to the steps, where Michael and Marcus made room for him.

Dillon nodded to both as he settled himself beside his brother.

“Beth wants to train in swordplay alongside the squires,” Robert began.

Dillon grunted. Alyssa would like her then. His wife had ridden into battle at Dillon’s side many times and would appreciate any woman who wished to do the same for Robert.

“Faudron and some of the men objected rather strenuously. I was about to intervene when Beth suggested they protested because they feared she would be better than them or show them up as she put it.”

She thought she could defeat them?

Michael laughed. “I thought Faudron’s head would burst.”

“Which roused their anger enough,” Robert drawled, “that Faudron fell right into her lovely clutches and agreed when she challenged him to an endurance contest of her choice. Beth chose running and invited any man who wished to participate to join them. Most of the knights, men at arms, and squires agreed at Faudron’s insistence. I wisely declined.” He nodded to the men around them. “Anyone who stops to catch his breath is disqualified.”

“And if she is the last one standing?” Dillon asked.

“Faudron must train her.”

He frowned. “How many times have they been around?”

Robert shrugged. “I have lost count.” When Dillon curled his lip at the exhausted men around them, Robert gave him a hard shove. “I will hear no censure from you, brother. I train my men as vigorously as you do your own.”

“Then how is it a woman has bested so many?”

Marcus muttered, “I would say naught disparaging about women in front of Lady Bethany were I you, my lord.”



Dillon arched a brow.

Michael grinned. “She is stronger than she appears and has the heart of a true warrior. I can attest to that myself.”