A sense of unreality invaded Beth, accompanied by near panic.
This couldn’t be it. It couldn’t be time for them to say good-bye. She wasn’t ready.
Then Grant wrapped his strong arms around her in a hug. “Be happy,” he whispered hoarsely.
She clutched him tightly. “You, too,” she forced past the lump in her throat.
He nodded, eyes glimmering.
Marc approached her next, hugging her so hard she could barely breathe. “I’ll miss you.”
Tears spilled over her lashes. For a moment, she couldn’t speak. “I’ll miss you, too. I’ll have to tease you mercilessly in Robert’s time to make up for it.”
He loosed a hoarse chuckle before he drew back, eyes damp.
Grant shook Robert’s hand. “Take care of her.”
Robert smiled. “I will.”
Marc took Robert’s hand, then surprised Beth by pulling him into a rough hug. “It has been an honor, my lord.”
“Robert,” her husband corrected with a smile.
Marc nodded. “It has been an honor, Robert.”
“For me as well.”
Beth embraced both friends again and told them she loved them. “Watch over Josh for me.”
“We will,” they promised.
She turned to her brother. Rising onto her toes, she wrapped her arms around his neck and held on tight.
Josh buried his face in her hair and clung just as desperately.
“I love you,” she murmured brokenly.
“I love you, too.”
Many long moments passed before he reluctantly pulled away. “Cause lots of chaos when you get back to the Middle Ages,” he ordered, tucking a few curls behind her ear.
She forced a wobbly smile. “You can bet on it. Maybe I’ll do like they did in the Back to the Future trilogy and arrange for Western Union to deliver a bunch of letters right after we leave.”
He returned her smile with a sad one of his own. “Western Union didn’t exist then.”
“I know. But I’ll think of something,” she vowed with false confidence.
Josh gave Robert a big hug. “I couldn’t have chosen a better husband for her.”
“Nor I a better brother-in-law,” Robert replied. “I want you to know that I have never loved anyone more than I do Bethany. And I shall strive every day of my life to make her happy.”
“I don’t doubt that you’ll succeed.” Josh started to back away from them, then stopped and pulled Beth into another fierce hug.
Tears flowed freely down Beth’s cheeks.
Not yet. Please, not yet.
She bit back a sob as he loosened his hold. She could barely see him through the moisture filling her eyes as he dipped his head and kissed her forehead.
“Tell my nieces and nephews about me,” he said, his voice thick. “Tell them I love them even though I’m not there to give them piggyback rides.”
She nodded helplessly. “Tell mine about me.”
Nodding, he backed away to the outer fringes of the clearing.
Robert wrapped an arm around Beth’s shoulders.
Marc and Grant moved to stand behind Josh in the shade.
Dimly, Beth was aware of Seth’s approach. But her eyes clung to her brother’s.
Then Josh’s face and the clearing blurred. That peculiar feeling of weightlessness swept over her, lingering several seconds.
And the world swam back into focus.
Once more, she and Robert stood on Fosterly land in the clearing from which they had departed a week ago.
Seth stood nearby, now sporting medieval garb.
A party on horseback was just disappearing into the trees on the far side.
One member turned to look back over his shoulder.
It was Marcus. The faithful squire’s mournful expression brightened as soon as he spotted them and realized that Beth’s clothing had changed and her weapons were gone.
Apparently Seth had returned them mere minutes after they had left.
At Marcus’s joyful cry, Dillon and Alyssa spun their horses around and, spying the couple, urged them swiftly forward.
Her thoughts on her brother, Beth buried her face in her husband’s chest and wept.
A horse skidded to a halt. Its rider dismounted.
“My lord,” Marcus broached hesitantly, “did Lady Bethany not find her brother?”
Robert smoothed his hands across her back and rested his cheek against her hair. “She found him, Marcus,” he answered softly.
Epilogue
“Josh?” Beth glanced around the great hall, but did not see her quarry. “Josh!”
A handsome nine-year-old boy with brown hair and hazel eyes, who was the spitting image of his namesake, exited the kitchen, still chewing whatever treat Cook had slipped him. “Aye, Mother?”
“Honey, go up and see what’s keeping your father. He should have been down here by now. And do not dare wipe your hands on your tunic.”
Grinning, he gave her a smart salute and left on his quest.
Shaking her head, Beth turned to Monsieur Tiveau. “Forgive me. ’Twill only be a few more minutes.”
He smiled affably and adjusted the large blank canvas that rested on the easel beside him. “I am here at your pleasure, my lady. You should not apologize.”