Mojitos with Merry Men (16 page)

At the same time, it's not exactly fun to constantly be pretending I'm something I'm not. And my stupid idea of not hooking up with Robin until we figured out a way to break it to the men? What was I thinking? Working beside him each day, becoming closer and closer to him… He's fast becoming my best friend. And yet, all day I fantasize about jumping his bones. It's pretty torturous, let me tell you.

One night, after a particularly rowdy bonfire party, I crawl into my tent to fall asleep. But I'm soon woken by a gentle touch. I open my eyes and see Robin kneeling in front of me. It's dark, and I can only see his silhouette backlit by the moon. But I know it's him.

"Wha—?"

He puts a finger to his lips and beckons me to follow. A chill trips down my spine at the idea of a midnight adventure. Of being alone with him for the first time since Locksley Castle. Without a word, I rise from my bed and follow him out of the camp and through the woods. We walk for about fifteen minutes, until we come to a small structure made of fallen trees and covered with pine boughs. A cave of sorts.

"A nest," he proclaims proudly. "For us."

I crawl in through the small doorway, gasping in delight. Inside, it's like a tiny bedroom, with piles of furs on the floor. It's cozy and warm and smells like cinnamon.

Robin climbs in beside me. "Do you like it?" he asks with a smile.

"I love it. It's very cozy."

"I built it for us. So we could have a place to be alone. Took me all day."

"I was wondering where you'd gone to. Thought you'd been slacking off," I tease. "Getting drunk with Friar Tuck or something."

"Never!" he cries in mock horror. "I'd be far too afraid to face milady's wrath. For she is a hard taskmaster."

"Yes, I'm pretty scary, huh?" I shape my hands into claws and swat at him. "Grrr!" I cry. "Death to slackers!"

Robin scoots back, feigning fear. "Aye, you
are
terrifying!" He laughs. "But luckily for me, I still have my ultimate weapon!" He leaps forward, grabbing me, pushing me down into the furs and tickling my ribs. "And the taskmaster has a secret weak spot!"

I squeal with protest mixed with laughter as he finds every sensitive funny spot. He's right. Tickling is definitely my kryptonite. I try pushing him away, but he's far too strong.

"Okay, okay! I forgive you!" I cry. "Stop the tickle torture!"

Luckily, he obeys, and I suck in a breath. He's still on top of me, though, his face inches from mine. I can feel his warm breath on my face—my insides are mush. And I remember too well how the last session of tickle torture ended.

Argh. It's going to kill me to say this, but I have to. I can't succumb to this seduction. Even though I want nothing more than to feel his hands on me, stroking me, loving me, fulfilling my every need, my every want, with his touch.

But I must be strong.

"Robin, I thought we decided there would be no—"

He sighs, backing away to the other corner of the love nest and settling into a sitting position against the wall.

"Yes, of course," he mumbles. "I apologize. I would never ask you to break your oath of chastity."

I shake my head. Argh. He's so overly dramatic sometimes. "Please. It's not that I've taken some sacred vow or anything. It's just… Well, I don't think it's a good idea to be sneaking around. If we can't tell everyone that we're lovers, then I think it's best that we only hang as friends. Then nothing Romeo and Juliet bad can happen."

"Romeo and…?"

Oops. Forgot Shakespeare hasn't been born yet. "Um, just some…friends I used to know. They fell in love, even though their two families were at war. It ended up with a very messy double suicide. We don't want to go there."

"I see."

"Not that I think this would happen with me and you. You don't really seem the type to chug poison, and I'm certainly not the kind of girl who stabs herself when things get tough. Or was it the other way around? Anyway, this just seems smart. 'Cause, like, 'Oh what a tangled web we weave when first we practice to deceive.' You know?"

He doesn't. He looks at me blankly. Okay, fine. I'm done spouting English lit quotes. Except maybe to remind myself that "the lady doth protest too much."

I mean, really! Why am I pushing him away? We're alone. No one can hear us. There's very little chance of getting caught. And it's not like I don't believe Robin cares for me. It's not like he doesn't respect me. Over the past few weeks, he's been nothing short of amazing. And he's never once tried to make a move after I asked him not to. Even here, in this little love cave, when I say back away, he does so without question.

"Dearest, I did not build this nest as a means of seduction," he says softly, interrupting my conflicted thoughts. "But simply as a place we could go to be alone. We are surrounded by my men at all times, with no chance to speak freely. I thought mayhap you would appreciate a hideaway. A place where you can be your beautiful self and not be forced to act as someone you are not. Forsooth, I imagine 'tis been difficult for you to continue the charade, to act like a man all the time, and I feel terrible for my part in forcing you to do so."

My heart flutters at his words. He's so thoughtful. He's noticed the pain I've tried to conceal and is doing his best to make it better.

"Thank you," I say, smiling at him, hoping he can read the unspoken affection in my eyes. "It's absolutely perfect, and I adore you for coming up with the idea." I lie back into the furs and stare up at the ceiling. Robin joins me, not touching, but close enough that I'd simply have to shift positions and I'd be in his arms. Tempting. So tempting.

I glance over at him. He's staring up, a pensive look on his face.

"What are you thinking?" I ask.

"Only that I am becoming quite attached to you," he says. "It worries me a bit."

"Why?" I turn over on my side to face him. "I mean, isn't it a good thing that your feelings for me have grown?" Eesh, what's wrong now? This guy has more issues than a politician on the campaign trail. And he doesn't know the half of it! Imagine if I told him that I'm living eight hundred years before I'll be born.

He shrugs. "Mayhap," he says. "But still I ask, what do I have to offer you?" He rakes a hand through his chestnut hair, loosening the ponytail. "I am nothing but an outlaw with no home. There's a price on my head. I could be killed on any given day. And I cannot even admit to my own men my adoration of you." He turns to look at me, and I see tears in the corners of his eyes. "Why would you have any desire to love someone like me? You, who are so beautiful and good. You deserve so much more than I can ever hope to give."

I frown. "I haven't asked you for anything."

"I know, I know." He reaches out and fingers a loose strand of my hair. I close my eyes, enjoying his soft touch. "But it does not matter. I look at you and see all that you merit. All that another could give you so much more easily than I. You deserve fancy dresses, jewels—to sleep in a real bed. You could be a lady of the court. Instead you choose to live a squalid, difficult existence in the forest because you care for me."

"You're right about that. I care for
you
—not courts and jewels and dresses," I insist. "You're more important to me than material possessions. Not to mention that my life here is more fulfilling. I mean, look at all the good we do together. How we've changed the kingdom. With you by my side, I feel like anything is possible. How can you say that's not giving me all I deserve?"

He pulls me into an embrace, and I crumble into his arms. He strokes my hair and kisses me on the top of my head.

"I am truly blessed that you feel that way," he says. "And can only hope someday I will prove worthy of your affections."

"You already are worthy. More than worthy. You truly are."

"It's strange," he says. "I feel so close to you, yet I do not really know anything about you. Where do you come from? How did you get here? Why do you speak with such a strange tongue?" He laughs. "For all I know, you could be a spy of Prince John's, one who will be my demise."

I make a face at him. "Of course I'm not. Don't be stupid. Besides, before I came, you guys weren't even doing anything worth spying on, remember?"

"True," Robin agrees. "But even still. You know everything about me, and I know nothing about you. Why you talk so strangely. Where your home is and what it is like. Why are you so reluctant to reveal your past?"

Uh, because it's the future? That'd be one reason. But it's not one I can exactly explain to him.

He's staring at me with an expectant look. I'd better come up with something fast.

"I, well—once I had a husband," I begin slowly. I guess he'll have to be okay with half-truths, at least for now. "Danny."

"Aye. You told me you were a widow. How did he die?"

"Er, actually, I was sort of stretching the truth on that one. I mean, I wish I were a widow. Actually my ex-husband is still alive and well and living in my homeland."

"He is alive? And he let you go?"

"Please. He did not
let
me do anything! I left of my own accord." I think back to the day I packed my bags and said I was out of there. Danny begged me to stay. He told me it was all a big, bad mistake, and it'd never happen again. Problem was, I didn't believe him…on either account.

"Why did you leave? Did he hurt you?" Robin asks, face darkening and hands balling into fists.

"No. Well, yes. I mean, not like you think." I try to clarify. "He didn't beat me. But he cheated on me. He, um, had relations with another girl, and I caught him in the act."

Robin narrows his eyes and shakes his head. "How could anyone choose another over someone like you?"

I smile. "It's nice to know you have a high opinion of me, Rob. But it's not a universally shared one, trust me."

"Then the world is truly insane," he declares. "For you are beautiful and smart and fascinating and everything a man could hope for in a mate."

"Ditto," I say, leaning over to place a kiss on his nose.

"Ditto?"

"It means I think the exact same of you," I explain. "You're handsome and smart and fascinating and everything I have always imagined a man could be."

Robin smiles and then reaches over to pull me close into his arms, and he cuddles into me, cheek caressing cheek. I relax in his embrace, knowing I'm breaking my own rules but no longer caring.

Because, at the end of the day, secret or not, right or not, impossible or not, I am falling in love with this man.

We wake up the next morning still entwined in each other's arms. Robin tells me that we'd better get back to camp before we're missed, so I sleepily gather my things and we exit the love nest.

"Don't worry, my dear," he says, reaching over to squeeze my hand. "We can return soon. Tonight, if you wish it."

"Oh yeah. I wish it. I wish it a lot."

Robin goes on ahead, instructing me to follow in a few minutes, so we're not seen wandering in together, doing the medieval version of the walk of shame.

I watch him as he heads down the forest path, my heart filled with joy and affection. Who knew I'd have to travel eight hundred years into the past to find my soul mate? If only we didn't have to keep this pesky secret, then everything would be perfect.

Suddenly, my phone rings.

"Hello?" I ask, as if I can't guess who's on the other end. There's only one person who calls me in medieval times, and I don't need caller ID to know who.

"Is he back yet?"

"Why, hello, Kat! It's great to hear from you too. I'm doing quite well. Thank you for asking."

"Sorry," Kat says, not actually sounding all that apologetic. "Hi, how are you, how's bow-and-arrow world, all that jazz. But really, Chrissie, don't hold me in suspense. Is King Richard back from the Crusades yet? Did you get the Holy Grail? Can Nimue get us back from the future?"

"Don't you think I would have called you if something had happened?" I ask, though technically I'm not sure if this phone is equipped to make outgoing calls to the future. You probably need a different minutes plan. Like a Century Plan or something—with no "time" limits. Hardy, har, har.

"Yes, I suppose you would. So that means he's not? Where the heck is this guy? How long does it take to capture the Holy City of Jerusalem anyway?"

"Um, actually I think he's currently rotting away in a prison in Austria," I say, trying to remember my history. "Captured on the way back or something."

"Grr," Kat growls into the phone. "Well, someone had better free him quick. Is anyone working on that? Hey, I know. Maybe you could head down there and try to get him out or something? Speed things up a little? Maybe Rob and his boys would be able to help. Just think, you'd all be heroes of the land."

"You want me to stage an international jailbreak of one of the most famous prisoners in history? I can barely manage to survive in Sherwood Forest."

"Well, it was just a thought," Kat huffs. "I mean, I'm desperate here. Guen's hooked up with this guy that she thinks is the reincarnation of her husband King Arthur, but the dude has a wife! Of course, I think the wife might be having an affair with this hacker named Lance, which could totally bring down the entire company if it's true. Anyway, it's all very weird. And strangely déjà vu-ish too, for some reason. In any case, I think it'd be a lot better if we could just all get back to the 21st century."

"Kat, you're just going to have to sit tight. Try to stay out of trouble for once in your life. There's nothing to do but wait."

"Fine, fine. I guess I have no choice, huh?" She pauses, then adds, "How are things going for you, anyway?"

"They're…interesting."

"Oh?"

"Well, first off, Robin Hood's figured out I'm a girl."

"Did he kick you out of camp? Are you on the streets? Er, or paths, or wherever the hipster homeless hang out in the 12th century?"

"No. We, um, have sort of, well… I guess we're dating." Dating. That sounds so lame. Like dinner and a movie instead of wild, hot sex in a flower-strewn meadow. Still, that's a little TMI to tell someone like Kat. Even if she would enjoy all the juicy details, I'm just not a kiss-and-teller.