Rendezvous With Yesterday

by Dianne Duvall

  Someone or something approached.

  Her eyes fell to his weapon.

  He actually thought he could protect her with a sword?

  Her heart began to beat a little faster, with nerves and with something else, too.

  Relief, perhaps?

  Robert didn’t want to harm her. He wanted to protect her.

  And she wasn’t about to let him get hurt doing it. A sword, no matter how impressive its length, weight and sharpness, could not compete with firearms.

  Turning slightly to one side, Bethany eased her knee up until she could reach her ankle and removed her .22. Robert’s broad, mailed back blocked her view as she flipped the safety off and lowered her foot to the ground. Rising onto her toes, she clutched his tunic to steady herself and peeked over his shoulder.

  “Beth,” he warned in a low voice, his left hand clenching in her shirt, “remain behind me.”

  “I am.” Even as she spoke, she extended her right arm beneath his and aimed her .22 at the forest Berserker studied so intently.

  Robert’s chin dipped as he glanced down at her weapon.

  Berserker nickered a greeting to whomever or whatever approached.

  The muscles beneath the tunic Beth clutched relaxed.

  Robert spoke over his shoulder, amusement lightening his voice. “You may lower your weapon. ’Tis one of my men.”

  As soon as she did, he let go of her and turned around, lowering his sword tip until it nearly touched the ground.

  Beth couldn’t quite decipher his expression as she took a step back to place a little distance between them. “What?”

  “You sought to protect me,” he stated.

  “So?” When his teeth flashed in a grin, she realized she should have denied it. “How do you know I wasn’t just protecting myself?” she bluffed.

  “Your flushed cheeks tell me otherwise.”

  Damn her fair skin for betraying her! “Okay,” she admitted. “I was protecting you. So what? You were protecting me.”

  Robert shook his head. “Were I not so relieved to discover that you have not taken me into dislike, I would feel insulted.”

  Beth rolled her eyes. “Why? Because the tiny, helpless woman was trying to defend the big, bad— Wait a minute. What? What was that about being glad I don’t dislike you?”

  His smile contorting into a grimace, he motioned to her handgun. “Mayhap you should sheath your weapon now.”

  “Oh, no you don’t. Answer the question.”

  He released a beleaguered sigh. “’Tis only that I thought mayhap I said or”—he looked away, a slight flush darkening his tanned, masculine cheeks—“did something to offend you. If I did,” he hurried to say, “’twas not my intention and I do ask your forgiveness.”

  Beth stared up at him, another chunk of the ice her mind had struggled to fill her heart with melting. “You didn’t offend me, Robert,” she assured him softly. “I’m just worried. And scared. And confused. I don’t understand what has happened to me. Or why it has happened. Or”—she shrugged—“whom I should trust.”

  “Trust me,” he said, his gaze sharpening. “You can trust me, Beth. I vow it.”

  “I want to. I really do.” And she did, though she probably shouldn’t.

  The heart that had just melted turned over in her breast when he offered her a gentle smile. “Then I hope that my men will bring you good tidings.”

  The foliage across the clearing parted as Adam’s horse nosed its way into view. When his eyes lit upon them—standing a couple of feet apart, each with weapons in hand—the quiet man halted. “Is aught amiss?” he queried carefully.

  “Nay,” Robert answered.

  Beth returned the .22 to her ankle sheath, then approached the warrior. “Did you find Josh? Is he okay?”

  Adam dismounted, face sober. “I regret that I did not find him. Nor did I find any sign of the marauders who attacked you.”

  Her throat began to close up. “What about the car? Did you find our car? A silver four door in desperate need of a wash?”

  His gaze went briefly to Robert. “Nay. I encountered no such thing.”

  Robert settled a large warm hand on her shoulder and gave it a light squeeze. “Michael and Stephen have not yet returned,” he murmured, compassion in his gaze. “Mayhap they have had more success.”

  She swallowed hard. “And if they haven’t?”

  “Then I shall send two score men to search the forest as soon as we reach Fosterly.”

  Numb, Beth allowed him to guide her over to the fire, where Robert sat close without touching her, offering his support while they waited.

  “Maybe we should have kept looking,” she murmured. “Maybe we shouldn’t have stopped.” Images of Josh, lying out there, bleeding from his wounds, assaulted her.

  What if he bled out overnight?

  “Searches are best carried out in daylight,” Robert said. “At night, even with torches, we could easily pass by him without seeing him. And if he is unable to call for help…”

  She closed her eyes. Please, let him be well enough to call for help.

  A short time later, the soft sounds of horse hooves accompanied by off-key whistling caught her ear.

  She stood.

  When Stephen entered the small clearing alone, her heart sank.

  “What news?” Robert questioned him, rising beside her.

  Stephen dismounted and somberly delivered his report. “My search bore no success. I regret that I could not bring you better tidings, Mistress Bethany.”

  Hope vanished. “Thank you anyway,” she said through numb lips.

  Beth retook her seat by the fire and stared blankly into the dancing flames. But its warmth could not penetrate the cold that encased her.

  The men cast her sympathetic glances and tiptoed around the clearing as though they thought the slightest sound or disturbance might set her to weeping and wailing at the top of her lungs.

  She swallowed hard. Perhaps they were right. As she awaited Michael’s arrival, she felt as brittle and fragile as an eggshell. Easily shattered. As she feared she would be if Michael did not return with Josh riding behind him.

  “Beth?”

  Blinking eyes that burned, she looked over at Robert as he hunkered down beside her. “Yes?”

  “I have a boon to ask of you.” He spoke in soft, carefully modulated tones, as if he, too, feared she would break down at the slightest provocation. But unlike the others, his kindness made her want to give in to the fear pressing down upon her, lean into him, and seek catharsis through tears.

  “What do you need?” she asked.

  “Might I borrow your blade for a moment?”

  “My hunting knife?”

  “Aye.”

  “Sure.” Her mind still on her missing brother and the mystery of how she had come to be wherever the hell she was, Beth removed the large knife from its sheath and handed it over.

  “My thanks, Beth.”

  Nodding, she returned her gaze to the hypnotic flames and listened intently for sounds that would herald Michael’s approach.

  They did not come for another hour.

  When they did, Beth rose, stomach churning.

  Robert joined her, standing shoulder to shoulder with her as though they were criminals in a courtroom, awaiting a judge’s sentence.

  Beth slipped her hand into his much larger one, needing the warm contact in that moment.

  His fingers curled around hers, and he drew her closer to his side.

  When Michael rode into the clearing, his only company her bulky backpack alone, tears filled her eyes.

  “Forgive me, mistress,” he said, his handsome features full of regret. “I did not find him.”

  Beth nodded, afra
id that if she tried to speak just then, she would fall apart.

  When Robert tried to put his arm around her, she withdrew her hand and backed away.

  If he did anything to console her, showed her any kindness at all, it would be her undoing. The sobs trapped inside her would find their release. And once started, she feared they would never end.

  “Beth.”

  Shaking her head, she turned on her heel and strode into the forest, not really knowing where she was going, just needing to get away, to find time and privacy to compose herself.

  Chapter Five

  Foliage closed above and behind Beth, erasing most of the moonlight. Darkness surrounded her, plucking at her shirt with wooden fingers and tripping her every other step. She probably should have stopped long enough to retrieve the flashlight from her backpack, but hadn’t wanted to wait. If she had, she might have succumbed to temptation and burrowed into Robert’s waiting arms, weeping loudly and using his already abused tunic for a tissue.

  She considered using the flashlight on her cell phone, but knew the battery was running low. And she wouldn’t be able to use her solar charger until tomorrow.

  A narrow branch, thick with leaves, slapped her in the face.

  Beth swore softly. Just one more scratch to add to a host of others.

  Freaking thing stung, though.

  Pausing, she touched her cheek. Her fingers came away dry. Good. No blood.

  The sounds of the forest swelled around her. Owls. Frogs. Things she couldn’t identify.

  Screeching things.

  Scuttling things.

  Reaching back to touch the pocket that cradled her cell phone, Beth peered into the night as disquiet crept in. Where the hell was she anyway? She hadn’t meant to go so far, but could no longer see the light of the fire.

  A twig snapped behind her.

  Beth spun around and gasped as a large figure loomed over her.

  Bringing up her fists, she prepared to fight.

  “Rest easy, Beth. ’Tis me.”

  “Robert!” Wilting with relief, she dropped her fists. “You were so quiet I didn’t hear you come up behind me.”

  His teeth flashed in a smile, though his eyes—what she could see of them in the darkness—remained watchful. “’Tis a skill my brother taught me.”

  “Well, you’re very good at it,” she praised with a faint smile. “Don’t do it again.”

  He chuckled. “As you wish.” He motioned to a large hump on his back. “I thought you might need your things if you wished to bathe and refresh yourself.”

  He had brought her backpack? That was thoughtful of him.

  Wait. “Did you say bathe?” she asked. “Where?”

  Robert glanced at something over her shoulder.

  “The river,” a low voice said behind her.

  Beth jerked in surprise and spun around.

  Adam now stood behind her, holding her knife and a string of what appeared to be enough fish to feed them all for a week.

  Her mouth fell open. “How did you do that?”

  “Do what?”

  Sneak up behind her so silently and… “Catch so many fish.”

  “With the hook and line tucked away in your blade.”

  “’Twas why I asked if I might borrow it earlier,” Robert explained.

  “Oh.” Her gaze went back and forth between the two warriors. And she truly was beginning to think of them in those terms now. “You’re not assuming I’m going to cook and clean those fish, are you?”

  “Nay,” Robert answered. “My men will prepare them whilst we are away.”

  “Good, because I have no idea how to cook over an open flame, and cleaning and gutting a fish would just be too gross after the long day I’ve had.”

  Another of those strange pauses followed her words.

  Robert nodded to Adam. “Return to camp. We shall join you shortly.”

  “Aye, my lord.”

  Adam passed them and disappeared into the foliage.

  Robert settled a hand on Beth’s lower back and guided her in the opposite direction.

  “You don’t expect me to address you that way, do you?” she asked, thinking of the way his men frequently addressed him.

  Robert tilted his head to one side. “Others will think it odd if you do not.” A slow smile stole across his face. “However, I find that I enjoy the sound of my name upon your lips.”

  Butterflies flitted about in Beth’s stomach. Struggling to appear unaffected, she mustered a smile and nudged him with her shoulder. “Flirt.”

  “I am not familiar with that word.”

  “Yes, but you can probably guess its meaning, right?”

  He laughed. “Aye.”

  As they walked, he solicitously held branch after branch out of the way so she could pass unscathed. Were she a gambling woman, Beth would bet he was also the kind of man who stood whenever a woman entered the room.

  Not too many of those existed anymore.

  The trees and undergrowth parted in front of them, revealing a lovely river that sparkled like diamonds in the moonlight. It looked fairly deep at its center, the current swift and strong, but shallow and fairly calm along its banks.

  So they had been near a waterway.

  “Yes!” Racing forward, Beth dropped to her knees and plunged her hands into the water. She was already in the process of splashing it up onto her face when she became aware of its frigid temperature. “It’s freezing!” she gasped.

  Behind her Robert chuckled. “I suspected you would think so.”

  Beth stared down at the water in dismay. She would really love to wash off the itchy, grisly remainders of her violent confrontation with Kingsley and Vergoma. But if she bathed in that, she would be blue from the cold by the time she finished. “I don’t care. I’m going to wash this crap off of me anyway.”

  Robert lowered her backpack to the ground, along with another pouch she had not noticed. “You will be chilled afterward. Have you fresh clothing to don?”

  “Yes.” Marc had recommended that she add a change of clothes while he had loaded it up for her.

  As Robert knelt beside her, Beth dug through the backpack and removed the flashlight. “Here. Would you hold this for me so I can see what I’m doing?” Flicking the ON switch, she handed the light to Robert.

  Gasping, he turned it toward himself.

  Beth held up a hand. “Don’t—”

  Too late. Blinking quickly, he rubbed his eyes with his free hand.

  She sent him a wry smile. “Never mind. Just hold it like this.” Clasping his wrist, she adjusted the flashlight’s angle until the bright beam fell onto her backpack, then released him.

  While Robert blinked to clear his vision, Beth rummaged through the pack, looking for all of the items she would need to get clean: a pair of rolled-up blue jeans, a black tank top, black bikini panties, white ankle socks, a bar of soap and a tiny bottle of shampoo. Unfortunately she had neither a towel to dry off with nor a clean bra to don underneath the tank top.

  The latter bothered her more than the first. She didn’t relish the idea of sitting before a campfire with Robert and three men she still considered virtual strangers all staring at her nipples, which the cold breeze would no doubt make prominent.

  “Is aught amiss?” Robert asked, noting her frown.

  “Nay. Well, aye. I don’t have another bra, and the one I’m wearing is filthy.” Though Beth wasn’t as fanatical about cleanliness as the fictional character Adrian Monk, she disliked grime enough that her current state really nettled her.

  She watched his face, clearly visible now thanks to the flashlight.

  He had that cute, slightly befuddled expression again. And she wondered if he was going to pretend he didn’t know wh
at a bra was.

  “’Tis necessary, this bra?” he asked cautiously.

  “Nay.” Irritated by the blush she could feel climbing her cheeks, she spoke more sharply than she intended. “Look, while I’m technically not shy, I’m not an exhibitionist either. My tank top isn’t that thick and I don’t want your men to spend the rest of the night staring at my breasts.”

  His blue-eyed gaze dropped to her chest, then swiftly returned to meet hers. A teasing grin stretched his lips. “I trust, however, you would not be averse to my staring at them.”

  A burst of laughter escaped her, catching her by surprise. She wouldn’t have thought anything could amuse her under the circumstances. “Oh, shut up,” she said, giving him a shove that landed him on his backside.

  Deep masculine laughter washed over her, warming her and easing some of her tension.

  “Forgive me, Beth. I did but jest. My men are all honorable and will not behave disrespectfully toward you. If you lack sufficient clothing to make you comfortable, however, you are more than welcome to don my spare tunic. Or you may wrap yourself in any of our cloaks and blankets. They are all at your disposal.”

  “Thank you, Robert.”

  A smile lingering on his handsome face, he shone the light down on her pile of belongings. “Have you any soap in there? Or do you wish to use mine?” His pack lay untouched where he had dropped it a couple of feet away.

  “I have soap,” she said, holding up the small bar of deodorant soap, “and shampoo.” Beth frowned down at the little bottle. “I hope this is enough to get all of the crud out of my hair.” Her tangled brown locks were matted with dirt and dried blood and reached her waist when not braided. She might have to use the soap, too, to get it clean.

  “May I?” Robert asked, holding out his hand.

  Beth handed him the bottle and watched him study it under the light.

  “You use this to clean your hair?”

  “Yes.”

  Turning slightly, he played the flashlight’s beam across the riverbank until it landed upon a large semi-flat rock that jutted out above the water a few yards away. “That should do nicely.”