“Harder, please.”
He applied more pressure.
“Harder.”
And more pressure.
She curled her shoulders forward and leaned back into his touch, twisting this way and that, guiding his hand along the edge of her vest. “Mmmm, yes. Right there,” she purred.
Sweat began to bead on his forehead. The heat already present in his groin increased.
“Now the other side.”
Robert drew in a deep breath and proceeded to scratch her other shoulder.
Bethany moaned in pleasure. “Mmm. A little lower,” she murmured.
He obeyed.
“Lower.”
He swallowed.
“Right there. That feels sooo good.”
His whole body tightened.
She is directing you in scratching her back, you arse, not lovemaking, he reminded himself.
The voice of reason did naught to bring his body under control, however. Every purr and moan slid down his spine like fingers, leaving goose flesh in their wake as his breath shortened.
“Thanks,” she said, the sensual hum leaving her words. “I really appreciate it.”
Yanking his hand back, he offered a nod of acknowledgment she could not see.
If he spoke, he feared she would have little difficulty hearing the desire that would surely thicken his voice.
They rode in silence for some time, Bethany no doubt wrapped up in thoughts of her brother and Robert almost succeeding in bringing his body back under control… until she resumed her squirming and scratching.
“Jooosh!”
He would have to find water soon. Nice frigid water to cool his ardor and soothe Bethany’s skin so she would stop wiggling around and rubbing her lovely bottom against his…
“Would you please scratch my back again?”
…groin.
Steeling himself to ignore her moans, Robert reached up and diligently began to scratch.
Beth estimated that when she and Robert began their search for Josh, they only had a couple of hours of daylight left.
Those hours proceeded to frustrate, confuse, and ultimately scare the hell out of her.
She had expected the lush, cool forest around them to gradually give way to drought-stricken trees that would at last begin to look familiar. Though she had caught no sounds of a river or stream, she had reasoned that they had perhaps begun their search near a lake or other waterway she simply couldn’t see. This part of Texas was riddled with them, which was why Houston was commonly known as the Bayou City. Trees were always greener near water sources. But if that were the case, the farther they moved away from the water, the drier the trees and foliage should have become.
That just didn’t happen. And she was pretty sure the forest on the outskirts of the Woodlands wasn’t this large, so her belief that she had ended up there faltered.
Perhaps, she speculated in desperation, she had wandered onto private land after being shot. Private land that thrived because the owner had opted to ignore the water restrictions and regularly quenched the land’s thirst with an excellent irrigation system.
But who would own this much land and spend that much money irrigating it when it wasn’t farmland?
She wasn’t sure how far a horse could travel in a couple of hours, but they should have encountered something by now. A house. A farm. A road. A rest stop. A barbed wire fence. A sign letting them know they were trespassing on private property or had wandered into some kind of wildlife preserve. Anything.
She frowned.
As far as she knew, there weren’t any wildlife preserves outside of Houston that were this large. But there was a huge national forest north of Conroe that was bracketed by two large lakes and peppered with waterways. That might explain the lusher forest. There had been many times when the Houston area had suffered a drought while areas to the north or west flooded. And it was pretty common for cold fronts to stall north of Houston and cool things down there while providing no relief from the heat in Houston.
But this cool? She didn’t think so. Besides, Sam Houston National Forest wasn’t within walking distance of the one that boasted Kingsley’s hunting cabin. She would’ve had to get in the car and drive to where she had woken up. But they had not found her car. And Beth knew she would never have left Josh behind.
It just didn’t make any sense.
Nevertheless, Beth opened her mouth to suggest they turn around, convinced that they were too far north, but the words froze in her throat as the trees parted before them and Berserker carried them out of the forest.
Her stomach twisted into a nauseated knot as she took in their surroundings. Fear—entirely different from that which she felt for Josh’s safety—sprouted within her and grew in tandem to her racing thoughts.
She and Robert had passed in and out of several clearings and meadows, but none had been large enough for her to see any farther than the trees on the opposite side. This…
This was different.
Robert guided Berserker onto a dirt road that stretched far into the distance. Beth stared straight ahead, then leaned over and looked behind them, fighting back panic as cries of protest filled her head.
Having been born and raised in Texas, she was pretty familiar with the Lone Star State’s landscape. She and Josh and their dad had driven to Galveston, Dallas, San Antonio, Austin, El Paso and all the way down to Mexico through one small town after another. And there was one thing you could safely say about Houston: It—and the land around it—was flat for miles and miles in every direction.
Yet that wasn’t what she saw and experienced as they continued along the road Robert had chosen to follow. The land sloped up behind them and down in front of them as they pressed on to the bottom of what could only be described as a substantial hill. Only one of many, she learned much to her dismay, when they topped the next even larger one.
“Jooosh?” She couldn’t quite produce a shout this time, so stunned she could barely find her voice.
All the way to the distant horizon, the trees were as green and healthy as the forest she and Robert had just abandoned. Verdant grass and flowering weeds rolled like ocean waves in a breeze chilly enough to make her shiver. Now that the forest no longer kept the wind from buffeting them and hitting them head-on, she guessed the temperature must have dropped a good forty degrees while she had lain unconscious, something that should have spawned violent thunderstorms and left the ground saturated. Yet not a drop of rain had fallen.
“Jooosh!”
And the dirt road…
Though narrow, it gave all appearances of being well-traveled. Yet it lacked the assorted litter that usually made Beth grouse. No tissues. No soda cans. No fast-food napkins. No dirty diapers. No discarded potato chip bags, gum wrappers, or cigarette butts.
And no tire tracks.
Though she searched and searched, Beth could locate not one tread mark. Instead, deep grooves that looked as though they had been carved by large wooden wagon wheels marred the dirt’s surface.
Her heart began to slam against her ribs.
The only people she could think of who used wagons like that—aside from those who offered downtown and midtown carriage rides—were the Amish. But the only Amish communities she could think of in Texas were up near Fort Worth and down by Corpus Christi, both of which were about a four-hour drive from Houston.
It wasn’t right. None of it was right.
“Jooooosh!”
Fear must have crept into her voice, because Robert tightened his arm around her.
But this time she took no comfort in it.
In the blink of an eye, everything had changed.
Beth didn’t know where she was, only that she was far from where she should have been. Much farther than she
had guessed.
And until she discovered exactly how she had come to be there, she could give no one—not even Robert—her trust.
The rest of the ride passed in silence, broken only by Beth’s frantic calls for her brother.
Concern for Bethany suffused Robert as he guided Berserker off the road and into the forest toward the clearing in which he intended to make camp.
She no longer leaned back against him as she had earlier. Instead she held herself stiffly erect.
All of his recent attempts to speak with her had begotten curt, one-word responses.
’Twas more than her missing brother that concerned her now. He was sure of it. But she would not confide in him.
“Why are we stopping?” she asked.
“We have lost the light. ’Tis time we make camp for the night.”
A moment passed. “What about the others?”
“They shall find us anon.”
Dismounting, he turned, grasped her by the waist and lifted her down.
As soon as her feet touched the ground, she stepped away from him, breaking contact. “Thank you.”
Robert frowned as she sidled away, carefully avoiding his gaze.
She no longer trusted him.
Had he said or done something to frighten her or lead her to believe he lacked honor?
His mind raced as he removed his bundle, then the saddle from Berserker’s back. “What think you, friend?” he whispered into the mighty destrier’s ear. “My questions might have proven vexing to some, but she seemed happy enough to answer them at the time.”
Berserker gave his shoulder an affectionate nudge, encouraging him to continue as Bethany wandered off into the brush.
“I know not why they would inspire fear. Do you? I vow ’twas not my intent to make her uneasy.”
Troubled, he began to rub his patient listener down and sought some reason for her withdrawal. He had said naught untoward. His hand had not strayed whilst his arm had been securely locked around her.
Of course, his mind had. And where his thoughts had gone, his body had longed to follow.
Robert stilled. Bethany had not been aware of his body’s physical reaction to her, had she? Though his mail and gambeson had not prevented his nether regions from responding to the lustful thoughts inspired by her moans of satisfaction as he had scratched her back or the ever-changing pressure of her shapely bottom wedged up against him, he had thought he was shielded well enough that she would be none the wiser.
If he were mistaken, however, such would explain her new wariness of him. A young woman, unescorted, alone with a knight whose body had betrayed his desire for her…
“Do you think she knew?”
Berserker snorted and nodded his head, as though confirming Robert’s thoughts.
“Well, I am certainly not going to ask her. ’Twould only make things worse if you were mistaken.”
“Do you always talk to your horse?”
Jumping guiltily, Robert spun around.
Bethany stood behind him, her arms full of branches.
He cleared his throat. “I see you have been busy.”
She shrugged and nodded toward Berserker. “So who was consulting whom?”
Relief flooded him. She had not heard.
“Actually, er, Berserker was just seeking my advice on how he might woo a certain mare in my brother’s stables.”
“Ahhh.” The faint shadow of a smile touched her lips. “I’ll leave you to your manly discussion then and see if I can’t put together a fire while we wait for the others to join us.”
He shook his head. “I shall see to that. You should rest.”
She stared up at him for a long moment, eyes haunted. “I need something to do, something to occupy my mind and hands while I wait for your friends to bring me news of Josh.”
Again Robert felt tenderness rise within him. “Then we shall build the fire together.”
Nodding, she turned and led the way to the center of the small clearing. A couple of additional trips into the forest were required to produce enough wood and kindling for a fire that would burn most of the night. When all had been arranged to their mutual satisfaction, Robert retrieved the flint he would use to strike a spark.
“You’re going to light it with that?” she asked, kneeling beside him.
“Aye.”
“Really? I’ve never seen someone do that before.”
He looked down at the fine-grained quartz in his hand, then met her curious gaze. “How do you start a fire?”
“With matches.”
He frowned. “Those wooden splinters secreted away within the handle of your blade?”
“Aye.”
That seemed unlikely. Without flint, how would she spark a flame to burn the wood?
Tilting his head to one side, he cocked a brow. “I shall demonstrate the use of flint if you will do the same with your matches.”
She smiled. “Deal.”
Beth had a much more difficult time sparking a fire with the flint than Robert did with the matches. The expression on his face when the little splinter he held ignited after a single strike was classic.
“Had I not produced the flame myself, I would suspect sorcery,” he breathed, eyes wide. “May I strike another?”
She couldn’t resist his boyish smile, so full of delight and eagerness. Nodding her permission, she watched him remove another match from her knife handle and explained the purpose of the colored tip.
He did not seem at all like a man bent on treachery. She felt no bad vibes and read no deceit in his gaze, no subterfuge. Neither when he questioned her about the match, nor when he taught her how to use the flint with such patience, encouraging her and praising her when she succeeded.
For the past hour or so, Beth had fought an inner battle with herself. Her instincts, which had always guided her so well in the past, kept urging her to give Robert her trust while her brain forbade it. She simply could not understand what had happened to her, what—if any—role Robert and his friends might have played in it or what possible purpose it would serve.
Everything inside her told her she was no longer near Houston. And with the temperature dropping as the sun set, she had to doubt she was even in Texas. No place in Texas was this chilly at night during the summer, even after a cold front.
So where the hell was she?
She thought again of those wooden wagon wheel ruts.
Pennsylvania?
How in the world would she have come to be there? Someone would’ve had to move her. But who?
Logic would indicate that Robert and his friends must have played a role in it since they were the only people she had encountered since waking. But they could have harmed her in a hundred different ways by now and hadn’t. They had all been kind to her instead.
Yes, they were weird. Their determination to adhere to their medieval role-play seemed insane under the circumstances. But, again, they hadn’t harmed her.
Those instincts of hers kept telling her to trust Robert, while her brain advised her to run and seek help. But where would she run? She and Robert had encountered not one other person in the two hours they had searched for Josh. And she had seen no structures whatsoever on the road. So where could she go?
Even if she made it back to the road she and Robert had traveled, she doubted she would make it very far on foot. No streetlights had lined the thoroughfare. And the road’s surface had been so rough and pitted that if she used her phone’s flashlight to look for Josh instead of keeping it trained on her feet, she would probably step in one of the deep gouges and twist her ankle.
She glanced at the dense foliage around her.
Since she didn’t know where she was, Beth had no idea what wild animals might lurk in these fore
sts. And if she lucked out and actually ran into other people…
Based on what she had observed in the bounty hunting business, strangers would be just as likely to take advantage of the situation and harm her as they would be to help her.
With the sun setting and her lack of knowledge regarding the landscape, sticking with Robert—at least for the time being—seemed like the safest option.
Unless her intuition, for once, was wrong and he and his friends weren’t members of a reenactment group at all, but instead were escapees from a mental institution who actually believed they were medieval knights.
Not all crazy people were violent, after all.
Her stomach twisted into a tighter knot.
Or perhaps she was the crazy one. What were the chances that she had gotten shot, passed out, and been transported to a place that boasted both a thriving Amish community and a medieval reenactment group?
She sighed.
If Robert and his friends were neither crazy nor acting, and she was of sound mind herself, what was she supposed to conclude? That they really were medieval knights and she had somehow traveled back in time?
Not. Time travel wasn’t possible, not outside of fiction. Every member of the scientific community she had seen speak on the subject had agreed that time travel was a technological feat that had not yet been accomplished and thus remained purely theoretical.
Besides, she had seen no time machine. And if getting fatally shot made one travel through time, then thirteen thousand people in the United States would be hurled back in time every year. She was pretty sure that would’ve made the news.
Robert raised his head suddenly.
Beth followed his gaze to Berserker.
The horse stared into the forest, ears pricking as if it detected some sound she couldn’t.
Robert rose abruptly. Gripping her arm, he pulled Beth up, dragged her behind him, then drew his sword.
Gaping, Beth offered no protest as he pressed her close to his back with his left hand and held his sword out in front of him with his right.
Rendezvous With Yesterday Page 7