It takes forever to wash all the caked-on dirt from my body, but finally I emerge from the bath feeling gloriously clean. A maid helps me into a beautiful royal-blue gown, a lot like the one I wore to King Arthur's Faire to begin with. Wow, that seems a lifetime ago.
Avelyn and Elaine help me fix my hair, pulling it into two Princess Leia buns and setting a veiled dunce cap-like thing on my head. I think I might look a little silly, but they insist it's the height of fashion and that Robin will think it's very sexy. While they primp, they ask a billion questions about my favorite outlaw—how did I meet him, what's he like, is he a good kisser? After all, the guy's infamous, and obviously even medieval women have a thing for bad boys. They're both totally psyched that Richard's back. Now they can start dating again.
"And you will never believe it!" Elaine says as she slips a chunky silver bracelet around my wrist. "Susan left the castle!"
"Aye, she evidently had a lover in the village," Avelyn adds. "And now they are to be wed."
"I thought at first she was crazy to leave the castle," Elaine says. "But she seems so happy. So very happy."
I beam, thrilled beyond belief. You go, Susan! The first feminist. I'm so glad she had the guts to go after her and Paul's happily ever after.
Finally, after what seems an eternity of primping, I'm pronounced gorgeous and led downstairs to officially meet King Richard. The girls giggle their good-luck wishes at the door to the throne room. They're not allowed inside, but that's okay. They're content to flirt with the outer guards anyhow. I send up a silent prayer that they will soon get their own happy endings.
I step inside. The place has already been cleaned up. When Prince John was in charge, it was a sty. Now it looks like a movie set—exactly how a royal palace should look.
I walk slowly across the room till I reach the throne where King Richard is lounging. He has this aura about him—he just looks like a king. Trim beard, steel blue eyes, a plain but richly cut red tunic. And his crown fits properly on his head. I can't tell you how much that helps the overall impression.
Robin stands by Richard's side, dressed in a green silk tunic. His hair has been cut short, and it shines with a just-washed glow. He looks gorgeous and amazingly clean. Funny not to see him all rough and unready.
I stop and bow low, then think better and curtsy deeply. After all, this guy's the King of England, not to mention I've got to ask him the hugest favor in the history of favors.
"Rise, Lady Christine," Richard says in a deep baritone. I remember that in Prince of Thieves, the Kevin Costner movie, Richard is played by Sean Connery. The real Richard kind of has the same deep foreign voice thing going on, but in the face he resembles Roger Moore. Amusing.
I scramble back to my feet, not as gracefully as I would have liked. Ah well, not enough practice, what can you do?
"Robin has told me of your recent adventures," Richard says. "I am greatly in your debt for all you have done for my people while I have been away."
Wow. The King of England is in debt to me. How cool is that? And it could certainly be helpful. I smile. "Thanks. It was nothing, really. Plus, I had a lot of help. Robin, his men. Really it was a team effort."
Richard smiles. "According to Robin, none of it would have come to pass without your guidance."
"Robin Hood is very kind," I say, stealing a look at the outlaw. He gives me an uncertain smile. I sigh. There's still so much unsaid. I really need to speak to him alone.
"Uh-uh," Richard corrects, with a wave of his hand. He's wearing several awesome rings on his fingers. "'Robin Hood' no longer, milady. It is Robin, Lord Locksley that stands before you this day."
"Really?" I cry, turning to Robin. "You got your castle back? That's so great!" I have to resist the urge to throw myself into his arms and hug the lights out of him. I know how much the castle means to him. And now he won't have to live in the forest!
"Yes, King Richard is most generous," Robin says formally. But I can see a sparkle in his green eyes. He's psyched.
"I'll say. That's way cool. Thank you, Rich—er, King Richard." I must remember courtly manners here. There's no use getting too friendly with Richie Rich. "What about Little John, Much the Miller, Will Scarlet, and the rest of the men?"
Robin smiles. "They have agreed to pardon me for my crime. And as reward for their loyal service to King Richard, they will be given lands of their own."
"Very nice." I smile, happy that everyone's friends again.
"And you, Lady Christine," Richard continues. "I should like to reward you in kind."
I raise an eyebrow. "Oh?"
"Aye. Simply name it, and it shall be yours. Be it half my kingdom."
Heh. Tempting. Always in movies that offer is made. Hardly ever does anyone take the king up on it. They always want something stupid and inconsequential. I mean, come on! Half a kingdom here, people! Me—queen of half of England!
But now I can't take him up on that generous offer either. 'Cause I know exactly what I have to ask for.
"Can I whisper my request in your ear, Your Majesty?" I ask, not wanting any of the various courtiers to hear me. After all, I'm sure Richie here wants to keep secret the fact that he stole the Holy Grail from the Church.
"Certainly, my child."
I climb up on the dais and tell him my request. His eyes widen. "How do you know of that?" he demands, now looking a little PO'ed.
"It doesn't matter. And I won't tell anyone, as long as I get what I need. Which should be no skin off your back, right? I mean, dude, I could have taken half the kingdom, right? You're getting off easy here."
Richard considers my proposition for a moment, then nods his head. "Very well," he says. "It shall be done."
Woot! Mission accomplished. Kat is going to be so thrilled.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
That night, Robin escorts me to the suite of rooms that King Richard assigned him, and we curl up into one another on the canopy bed.
"How do you fare?" he asks, stroking my cheek.
I smile, stretching my arms above my head and then snuggling closer against him. "Right this second, I couldn't be cozier."
"I am so sorry for last night. Running away like a coward. I just could not bear the thought of losing you."
"I know," I say, stroking the stubble on his cheek gently with the back of my hand. "It's not that I want to be lost, believe me. If I had my choice, I'd stay here with you forever."
"Do you mean that, truly?"
"Yes. I love you, Robin. You're the best thing that's ever happened to me. I love our life here in Nottingham. And it's only going to get better from here on out. Why would I want to leave all this behind?"
"Well then," Robin says, clearing his throat. "I think you should go."
"Wh-what?" That was so not what I expected the guy to say.
"You told me once that in your land—in your…time—if you love someone, you should let them go. Well, Chrissie, I know that you have to go. And though 'tis unbearably painful, I must let you."
Tears fill my eyes, and I cuddle closer to him, seeking all the warmth and comfort his body has to offer.
"I will figure out a way to return, Robin," I promise. "Someway, somehow, I will find you again."
"I know, dearest," Robin says, taking my head in his hands and kissing me slowly. "I believe that with all my heart. That's the only reason I can do this."
We make love slowly. I'm crying the whole time. Every caress, every kiss feels like a knife inside me.
It's lucky we seldom know the last time we'll make love to our partners. If you knew the person you loved was tomorrow going to walk out of that door and get hit by a bus—or meet someone new who they wanted to dump you for—you might find that last time too much to bear.
Every heavenly sensation of our lovemaking is accompanied by a suffocating feeling of loss, every ounce of pleasure doused by a pound of pain. In the end, we simply stop, crying in one another's arms. We're too emotionally drained to speak.
Finally, I've found the man of my dreams, and I'm forced to leave him for some silly mission. It's not fair. So not fair.
Somehow, I eventually fall asleep. I dream I'm walking through King Arthur's Faire, carrying the vial with the Holy Grail blood in my hands. I approach the gypsy tent and pop inside.
Nimue sits there, exactly as I saw her the first time, by her crystal ball. She greets me with all-knowing, wise eyes.
"Did you bring it?" she asks.
I hold up the vial. "Of course."
"You have done well, little one. I am very proud of you."
I start to hand over the vial, then suddenly change my mind, an idea forming in my brain. Robin told me once if you loved someone you should fight for them. And suddenly, I'm ready to put on the gloves and get dirty.
"Look, Nimue," I say. "I'll give you the blood. But you have to give me something too."
"That was not part of our deal," Nimue says stiffly.
"Well then, I'm changing the deal."
"And what is it that you want? Riches? Shoes? What is it you 21st-century women find more precious than gold?"
"I don't want money! I want to stay back in the 12th century. To be with my true love. You told me long ago that perhaps my destiny lies in another era. Well, it's true. My destiny, my future, is not here. It's with Robin."
There. I said it.
"So you would rather let your friend languish away in the 22nd century to fulfill your own selfish desires?"
"No. I want to help Kat. That's why I got you the stupid Grail blood to begin with. Jeez, I gave up half of England for the stuff. But I'm also done being the sacrificial lamb here. I've found true love. And I'll be darned if I'm going to let it slip from my fingers."
Nimue surprises me with a smile, her blue eyes crinkling at the corners. "You have much changed since you first appeared at my tent. The mouse has grown up a tiger."
"Uh, thanks, I think." She's right of course. The shy, unassuming photographer who came to King Arthur's Faire with Kat is nothing like who I am today. I'm strong. I'm self-sufficient. I'm a leader. And I have a man who loves me enough to die for me. Not that I'd ever want him to.
"Did you really think I'd force you back to this century when I knew all along you belonged in the past?"
I cock my head in surprise. Whoa. I wasn't expecting that answer! "You knew?"
"Remember," Nimue reminds me, "I am the one who first told you that you would be the gentle soul who tamed an outlaw's thirst for revenge."
"That's right," I say, thinking back.
"If your destiny truly lies in this other place and time, there is no reason for me to keep you here. You have accomplished your mission. You have saved your friend, and she will now be able to safely return. Of course I will allow you to stay in the 12th century." She glances into her crystal ball for a moment, then back up at me. "You will live long and have many children," she prophesies. "In fact, you already have your first inside of you."
"What? I'm pregnant?" I look down at my flat stomach, unbelieving at first, then back at Nimue. "And I can stay with Robin?"
"Aye." Nimue smiles. "Now, begone. Go back to your love, for even now he wakes by your side." She waves a hand, and the room swirls into blackness.
* * *
"Chrissie, Chrissie! Wake up!"
I groan as I feel a hand nudging my shoulder. Reluctantly, I open my eyes. Robin is leaning above me, concern in his eyes.
"What?" I ask. "What's wrong?"
"'Twas the strangest thing. You started to fade for a moment."
"Fade?"
"I cannot explain it. Perhaps you were traveling to your homeland. I got frightened. I realized this might be the moment I lose you forever, and I did not get a chance to say good-bye."
I smile, remembering. Obviously it was no dream. I wonder what people in the 21st century will think when I don't return. Will anyone miss me? Will they launch a search? Maybe Kat will be able to make up something believable. I wonder if I'll still get to talk to her from time to time on my cell phone…
But I realize none of this matters now. Not really. I have a new life, a new and glorious beginning with the man I love. All my dreams have come true.
"Robin, you don't have to be frightened. I'm not going anywhere. I did what you said. I fought for our love. And I won. You've got me for as long as you want me."
"Do not toy with me, Chrissie. I cannot bear it."
"I'm not. It's true. I've accomplished my mission, and I've bargained my freedom. I can stay here with you forever."
Robin smothers me with a hug, squeezing me hard. Suddenly conscious of the baby growing inside me, I push him gently away and whisper our secret in his ear. His eyes widen, and he stares at me, indescribable delight written on his face. Then he cuddles into me, placing a hand against my stomach, stroking the burgeoning life beneath. I curl my hand into his, feeling so happy, so wanted, so loved. So right.
I'm a Hoboken hipster in Sherwood Forest. And this is where I belong.
* * * * *
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ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Marianne Mancusi is a two-time Emmy award-winning television producer and author of novels for adults and teens. A graduate of Boston University, she now lives in Austin, Texas with her husband, young daughter, and two dogs. When not writing or producing she enjoys traveling, wine tasting, shopping, reading, and her favorite guilty pleasure: video games. She also writes contemporary romance under the name Mari Madison.
To learn more about Marianne, visit her online at: http://mariannemancusi.com
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BOOKS BY MARIANNE MANCUSI
Timeless Love novels:
Cocktails in Camelot
Mojitos with Merry Men
Flirtinis with Flappers
Writing as Mari Mancusi:
News Blues
Zombiewood Confidential
Karma Kitty Goes to Comic Con
Scorched
Shattered
Smoked
Tomorrow Land
Alternity
The Blood Coven Vampire Series:
Boys that Bite
Stake That
Girls That Growl
Bad Blood
Night School
Blood Ties
Soul Bound
Tween Reads:
Golden Girl
The Camelot Code
Gamer Girl
Skater Boy
Writing as Mari Madison:
Just This Night
Break of Day
At First Light
* * * * *
SNEAK PEEK
of the next Timeless Love novel:
FLIRTINIS WITH FLAPPERS
PROLOGUE
Baghdad, Valentine's Day, One Year Ago
I am perfectly safe. I am absolutely, perfectly safe.
I wondered how many times I'd have to silently repeat that mantra before I could convince my frantic brain that I was telling it the truth.
"Okay boys, lock and load. We're off like a dress on prom night."
Gulp. Probably more times than ex-boyfriend Stuart Goldstein had tried to remove said prom dress back in high school—and that was saying something. How had I gotten myself into this mess? Or, perhaps a more pressing question, how would I get out alive?
I followed as the camouflaged American platoon wove through the back alleyways of Baghdad, hidden camera securely placed inside the sleeve of my poncho. Sure, as a foreign correspondent working overseas for a television news network, I’d been in a few hairy situations, but nothing like this. This kind of action was more Nick's scene.
Come on, Nick! Where are you? I thought, not for the first time. He was going to kill me when he found out I'd gone without him. But I couldn't just turn down an opportunity to
nab the story of a lifetime just because he was running behind. He was always reminding me how important it was to get the story. Not that I needed reminding.
Colonel Devens and his band had developed quite the reputation in Baghdad for their unconventional methodology. They were rebels, though no one was quite sure their cause. They had flouted the local government's laws and restrictions several times, but had also produced results. The network had been begging for their story, salivating over the opportunity to have a member of the media along for one of their legendary raids. Nick had taken me to several of the repeated negotiations, hoping a woman's touch could sway the hard-nosed officer. And he'd been right. Problem was, Colonel Devens had decided to allow the media along on the one day Nick hadn't shown up on time. Today. Valentine's Day. And according to the Colonel, it was now or never.
"You want to go on a raid?" Devens had sneered a half hour before, over our coffee in the hotel bar. He reminded me of the guy in Apocalypse Now. The one who loved the smell of napalm in the morning. "Grab your gear, sweetheart. Now's your chance."
I'd tried to argue that he should wait for Nick to show up. That the experienced reporter was the one he wanted along for the ride, not me. But Nick was fifteen minutes late already and the Colonel ran a tight ship.
"I wait for no one, darling," he'd drawled. "You in or not?"
I was in. After all, I couldn't let the network lose the story, no matter how dangerous the situation was for me personally. I took my job way too seriously, even if no one else took me that way.
In that sense, this was pretty cool. A once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. If I got the story by myself, everyone would finally realize that I wasn't just some "Barbie in Baghdad" as the papers had dubbed me. They'd see that I was a real journalist. A valuable contributor to my station's programming. Maybe they'd give me more undercover missions. More action. Maybe I could be more like Nick. Nick had been doing this kind of thing for years. He lived for the danger. The intrigue. The could-get-killed-at-any-moment lifestyle. Not to mention the Nick Fitzgerald tumblr fan sites of the desperate housewife set back home. The women in America loved the sexy, suave thirty-six-year-old reporter, and he was definitely enjoying his fifteen minutes of fame. Not that I minded their crushes. He'd had a storied career as a player, but all that was over. These days, no matter what happened, he always came home to me. Because you see, Nick was not only my mentor, he was also my boyfriend. The love of my life, if you wanted to be technical.
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