Rendezvous With Yesterday (The Gifted Ones Book 2)

by Dianne Duvall

  ’Twas obvious Robert had guessed their true motive, though he suspected that, in addition to curiosity, something more had driven them to seek her out.

  They liked her and enjoyed her company.

  Hopefully not as much as he did. But he wasn’t quite ready to explore that yet.

  “All right. All right,” he interrupted. “Michael, you escorted her to the kitchen. Did she find aught pleasing enough to satisfy her hunger?”

  Michael shared an uneasy glance with the others. “Nnnay. I believe she was rather disturbed by the state of the kitchen.”

  Stephen snorted. “I would say disgusted.”

  Robert winced. “As is Alyssa whenever she and Dillon visit. But I have not the time to see to all of the little details Edward has no time for, which makes keeping an immaculate hall difficult.” In truth, he had been so consumed with making Fosterly a prosperous holding that he had had little energy left to dedicate to the more mundane household tasks. “Desiring cleaner kitchens does not indicate Lady Bethany is mad. Did she return to her chamber?”

  Michael shook his head. “After gawking at the goings-on in the kitchen for nigh onto an hour, Lady Bethany began her search.”

  Her search?

  “Stephen and Adam had accompanied us,” Michael continued, “and we all watched in dismay whilst she lowered herself to her hands and knees and began to crawl about the floor like a babe. Under tables. Under benches. Underfoot of many of the shocked servants. She even pulled things away from the walls and ran her hands across them.”

  “The walls, not the goods,” Stephen clarified.

  Confusion sifted through Robert. “She was feeling the walls?”

  “Aye,” Michael confirmed. “Every crack, crevice, and corner.”

  “Why? For what did she search?” A doorway to a secret passage mayhap? Had she discovered so quickly the one in her chamber and thought to look for more?

  How could she have when no one else had guessed its presence in the four years he had resided at Fosterly?

  “She sought a number of things apparently,” Michael said. “First and foremost was something called an eklectical…” He frowned. “Nay, an electrical outlet.”

  An electrical outlet? What was that?

  “From what I understand, ’tis something small that is commonly found on walls in her homeland,” his friend said with furrowed brow.

  Well, if ’twas something from her homeland, mayhap her desire to find it was not so odd. Although the way she went about looking for it was. She could have simply asked. “What purpose does it serve?”

  “I know not.”

  Robert would have to ask her later. “Very well. What else did she seek?”

  “A light switch.”

  Robert’s eyebrows flew up. “She wished to beat someone?” Who? And why?

  He scowled. Had someone insulted her? Threatened her? Harmed her in some way?

  Stephen must have seen the thunderclouds gathering in Robert’s expression because he quickly tried to head off the storm. “’Tis what we thought as well until she told us that the light switch she sought was not a rod used for whipping, but rather an object similar to the electrical outlet.”

  Michael nodded. “She would not take our word that Fosterly boasted none of those.”

  Stephen frowned. “’Twas insulting, really, her refusal to believe us.”

  Indeed it was an insult, but Robert had no interest in pacifying his friends at the moment. “Continue, Michael.”

  “So intent was she upon finding these outlets and switches that she ordered a ladder to be brought in, climbed to the top of it, and felt those parts of the wall that were out of reach. By the time she gave up, she was almost as disheveled as when we found her.”

  The unknown objects must be of great important to her. “A light switch and an e-lec-trical outlet,” Robert murmured, struggling to pronounce the last. In all of his travels, he had heard no mention of such things.

  “And something called a micro wave oven. She seemed to think every kitchen should have one, and was very disappointed that Fosterly’s does not.”

  Robert knew not what that was either, but vowed to acquire one if ’twould please Beth. Alyssa could help him. She knew about kitchens. He had been remiss in not requesting her assistance earlier.

  Michael propped his hands on his hips and frowned. “What was the other thing she sought, Stephen? The one that sounded like plumage?”

  “Plumming,” Adam supplied.

  “Aye!” Michael agreed. “Indoor plumming. Something else she thought no castle should be without.”

  Hmmm. He would have to ask Alyssa about that one, too. No sense in questioning Dillon. His brother was as oblivious to the inner workings of a household as Robert.

  Wondering what to make of Beth’s strange behavior, why she had felt the desperate need to run her hands across the walls when she could plainly see that what she sought was not there, Robert finally noticed his friends’ unkempt appearance. All three bore dusty, mussed hair, smudges on their faces and hands, and stains on their surcoats.

  “I know why Lady Bethany may be disheveled, but what is your excuse?”

  Again the three shared a look.

  Much to his surprise, Adam broke the silence. “I saw her cross herself,” he uttered in his gravelly voice, a scowl darkening his features.

  “Lady Bethany?” If she had not crossed herself whilst covered in blood and faced with four armed warriors on horseback, he found it difficult to believe that aught she found in the kitchen would make her do so.

  Then again…

  “Nay, a kitchen maid,” Michael corrected. “Lady Bethany’s unusual garb and peculiar behavior began to make some of the servants uneasy as she moved from room to room.”

  “I thought her search was restricted to the kitchen,” Robert said.

  Stephen shook his head. “I vow she searched every room in the castle. Except for the solar, that is. We would not allow her to search in there.”

  Michael grimaced. “She even searched the garderobes. She mentioned the plumage—”

  “Plumming.”

  “—again there. And I thought she would weep upon discovering the castle had it not.”

  Robert frowned. “You have not yet said how you all came to be so soiled.”

  Michael nodded to Adam. “’Twas his idea.”

  Adam flushed a deep red under Robert’s scrutiny. “I could not let them all think her mad or bewitched, could I?” he demanded belligerently. “Leave her to face the same condemnation and fearful glances Lady Alyssa was subjected to on those first few visits?”

  And continued to face on occasion.

  What exactly had Adam done?

  Stephen grinned, enjoying the quiet man’s discomfort. “When Adam saw the servant girl cross herself, he got down on his hands and knees and pretended to join Lady Bethany in her search, dragging us down with him.”

  Michael laughed. “He even said—loudly enough for everyone in the great hall to hear, mind you, for that is where we were by then—how kind it was of Lady Bethany to help him find what he had been so careless as to misplace, that many ladies of her station would have thought it beneath them and her concern was evidence of a kind heart.”

  Pleased by the big man’s clever attempt to divert suspicion away from Beth, Robert clapped him on the shoulder.

  Adam cursed and turned even redder.

  Robert laughed. “What did Lady Bethany say?”

  Stephen’s grin widened. “Naught. She simply looked at Adam as if he were the daft one, then continued with her search.”

  “Soon enough the servants assumed Adam had indeed misplaced something,” Michael went on. “A few even offered their services, which we graciously declined.”

 
“You have my thanks,” Robert said. “I do not wish Lady Bethany to feel unwelcome here.”

  “Nor do we,” they chorused.

  Stephen lost his grin. “We heard about Donald, Henry, and Douglas. How fares young Davie?”

  “One arm is broken. Two teeth are missing. Both eyes are swollen shut. And I suspect a few of his ribs are cracked.”

  All three swore fiercely.

  Robert turned toward Bethany’s door. “Hie yourselves off now. I shall see to Lady Bethany’s care. And tell Edward I want a bath prepared and a tray brought up to the solar. Mayhap I can convince her to sup with me here, away from prying eyes.”

  Nodding, the knights trudged down the hallway.

  Pushing open the heavy oak door, Robert took two steps into Bethany’s chamber, then halted. ’Twas empty.

  His heart jumped. “Beth?”

  This chamber was arranged much like the solar. An enormous bed allowed his brother, who was a bit taller than Robert, to stretch out without his feet hanging off the end. Beside it rested a small table upon which sat parchment and ink that Alyssa used to record her prophetic dreams. A trunk at the foot of the bed contained Alyssa’s possessions. Another against the far wall by the window contained Dillon’s. Two chairs and a larger table, at which Alyssa repeatedly bested Robert at Nine Men’s Morris, rested before the hearth.

  Hurrying inside, Robert thrust back the curtains that cloaked the bed.

  Empty.

  A quick inspection confirmed that Beth was not down on her knees, hidden from his view as she conducted another of her odd searches.

  Robert started toward the door, his mouth already opening to bellow for his men’s return, then stopped abruptly. His eyes went to the large, elaborate tapestry that hung on one wall.

  Behind it lay a secret door.

  With his men standing guard, she would have had no other means of exiting.

  Leaving the room, Robert closed the door behind him, strode down the hallway, and threw open the door to the solar.

  It, too, appeared to be empty.

  “Beth?” he called.

  “Aye?” came her response, muffled, but welcome.

  Relief trickled through him as he closed the door and crossed to the center of the large room. “Where are you?”

  “Is that you, Robert?”

  “Aye.”

  “Good. I’m under the bed.”

  He circled the foot of his large bed and found two slender, trouser-clad legs poking out from beneath the blankets, heels up, toes down. “What are you doing under there?”

  “Waiting for you. Would you do me a favor?”

  “You have but to ask.”

  “Good. Grab my ankles and give them a good yank, would you? I’m stuck.”

  Laughing, he knelt beside her, curled his fingers around her ankles just above her small mannish boots and pulled her out from underneath the bed.

  The shirt he had lent her rucked up almost to her neck. Beneath it she wore her small black sleeveless tunic and blue breeches that hugged her like a second skin. As luck would have it, the tank top, he thought she called it, wanted to linger beneath the bed, too, sliding up and leaving her slender back bare.

  Robert took eager advantage of the few moments he was granted to admire her curves before she rolled over onto her back and sighed.

  Poking her lower lip out, she blew her hair out of her eyes and stared up at him. “Hi.”

  He smiled and returned her unusual greeting. “Hi.”

  Her pretty face and hands were even more smudged than his men’s. Curls surrounded her face in enchanting disarray.

  As she lay there, staring up at him with her arms stretched loosely above her head, Robert felt his body harden.

  Her tiny tank top had caught on the base of her breasts and climbed no farther. Beneath the pale skin of her flat belly lay muscle, smooth and sleek, faintly defined. He had never seen such on a woman before. All of those he had been with had been soft and malleable, more than a few of them round.

  Robert found Beth’s form to be a fascinating combination of strength and vulnerability. Of hardness coupled with softness. The muscle he had marked on her arms and legs and now on her abdomen was by no means large and bulky like his own. Nay, ’twas more subtle, creating soft shadows and gentle ripples that warned one not to be fooled by her seeming delicacy. This woman was a warrior and could take care of herself.

  Even as the thought formed in his mind, he noticed again the ragged scar just beneath her breasts.

  Gently, he brushed two fingers across it.

  Her breath caught.

  His eyes met hers. “Does it hurt?”

  “Nay.”

  Resisting a sudden urge to bend and press his lips to it, he slipped his thumbs under the edge of her black tank top and tugged it down until its hem met her breeches.

  Beth said nothing. Just watched Robert as little sparks ignited all along her torso where his hands brushed her as he adjusted her tank top.

  His hair was windblown. His clothes looked as though he had been rolling around in a barbecue pit. And the skin alongside his mouth bore a tightness it had lacked earlier.

  “Did you find what you sought?” he asked when the silence stretched.

  She sighed. “Nay. I didn’t really expect to, but I had to look anyway.”

  He nodded.

  “I guess they told you everything, huh?”

  “Who?”

  “The motley crew out in the hallway. Your overly curious knights in somewhat tarnished armor.” All of whom had shadowed her throughout the day and seen her attempts to find proof that what stared her in the face was not true.

  “Aye.”

  She didn’t know what spin Stephen had put on her actions, but guessed it probably involved pointing an index finger at his temple and swirling it in circles in the universal cuckoo sign. “Do you believe me now?” she asked, not really wanting the answer.

  “About what?”

  “Being mad. Do you believe I’m crazy?” The servants certainly had before Adam had begun his ruse.

  She wasn’t sure what they thought now.

  “Nay, I do not,” he responded, then smiled. “I do not believe you are wacky in the wicky woo.”

  That almost made Beth laugh. “Do you have any idea how strange that sounds coming from the mouth of a medieval knight?”

  “No less strange than it does coming from your own sweet lips.”

  Her amusement faded. “I screwed up, didn’t I?” He said nothing, because he agreed or because he didn’t understand her? “I made a mistake,” she clarified. “I know I did. Your friends wouldn’t have gotten down on their hands and knees and pretended they knew what the hell I was doing if I hadn’t. I knew I was making a spectacle of myself, but I couldn’t help it. I had to know. I had to be sure. I—”

  Robert touched a finger to her lips to halt the sudden rapid flow of words. “You did naught wrong, Beth.”

  “Yes, I did. You’re just trying to be nice.”

  “Mayhap your behavior was a trifle odd, but there was no harm done.”

  She shook her head, touched by his constant kindness. “Everyone here thinks I’m mad, Robert. Everyone but you.”

  “Nay, Beth.”

  “Your men do. Stephen and Michael and Adam. They think I’m nuts.”

  “They do not.”

  Damn, he was nice.

  Beth lowered her arms and held her hands out to him. “You know what?”

  Grasping her hands, he drew her up to sit beside him. “What?”

  “You’re a terrible liar.” And she thought it one of his most endearing qualities. She had dealt with so many liars over the years. Closing her eyes, Beth leaned into him and rested her fa
ce against his dirty surcoat. It smelled of fresh air and soot. “What am I going to do?”

  He wrapped his arms around her. “You are going to give me time enough to bathe the stench from my body, then join me for a light supper.”

  She rolled her head from side to side. “If you knew what I was thinking… how crazy this all seems…” She had traveled back in time to medieval England.

  How the hell was that even possible?

  He pressed a kiss to her hair.

  Her heart fluttered in her breast.

  “Tell me, Beth. I will not betray your confidence.”

  She couldn’t. Not yet. Not while she was still trying to understand it herself. “One more day, Robert.” Sliding her arms around his waist, she held him close. “Give me one more day, then I’ll tell you everything. I just hope…”

  “What?”

  “I hope you’ll still like me after I tell you.” He had been raised in a time when superstition governed thought and action as much religion and politics did. She had no idea how he would react to her telling him she was from the future.

  His hold tightened. “You need not fear, Beth. Naught you say will change the way I feel about you.”

  Chapter Nine

  Beth turned Robert’s words over and over in her mind that night as she huddled beneath the covers, trying to fend off the mental demons that plagued her long enough to fall sleep.

  Naught you say will change the way I feel about you.

  Robert had coaxed her back to her own chamber and had a bath prepared for her.

  She could see what he had meant about not wanting to trouble the servants nightly. It had taken a lot of buckets to fill that tub. And Beth hadn’t even let them fill it as full as they’d wanted to.

  Robert had bathed in his chamber, or solar, then had invited her to join him there for a meal, presenting her with a trencher full of food she was too afraid to eat after her inspection of the kitchen.

  Seated across from him at the table before the hearth, she had peppered him with questions about his life.