Evidently satisfied by my explanation, Robin drags his fingers down the insides of my arms until they reach my breasts. He cups them in his hands, his fingers lightly stroking the tips. I squirm at the sensation, barely able to control myself.
"And to think I stuck apples down your dress," he chuckles between kisses. His mouth lowers to my throat, to my chest. His fingers pull at the neckline of the gown.
"Yeah, well, I know I'm not exactly blessed in the chest department," I say, feeling suddenly a bit inadequate, exposed.
"Ah, be quiet, woman. You are more beautiful than my favorite star," he murmurs, taking my left breast in his mouth. I bite my lower lip to hold back a moan as my fingers claw at the grass, the dirt, anything within reach.
Robin's mouth is hot, wet—magic—as it teases my nipple into a rock-hard peak. His other hand finds my right breast, stroking it into submission. I involuntarily push myself against his thigh, desperate to relieve the exquisite torment his touch invokes. He pushes back. Solid, firm. "Oh God," he mouths against my breast. "I have to have you. Now."
And I, I realize, have to be had.
He abandons my breasts, mashing his mouth against mine, his tongue diving in with seemingly relentless desire. He grabs at my skirts, desperately trying to pull them up. I can't help myself—I reach to pull down his calfskin trousers. I remember wondering that first day if he had stuck a sock in his tights. I now realize he did no such thing. He's magnificent. Absolutely magnificent.
Unclothed and free, he pushes himself inside me. Filling me. Completing me. I gasp as our bodies become one. He's deep inside me now—solid, hard, mine. He moans, his face a mask of concentration as he struggles to control his desire. To slow his pleasure for my sake. I feel a strange sense of power well up inside of me. I'm making him feel like this. I'm responsible for his groans of pleasure. Little old me has made the legendary Robin Hood rock hard and ready to go.
His movements are gentle at first, rocking against me, pressing himself deeper, then pulling back, then deeper again until I feel he's found my very core. I match his thrusts with my own, arching my back in delicious agony at the sensations electrifying every inch of my skin. His hand reaches down to stroke my sex, fingers masterfully dancing over my most sensitive flesh and I bite my lower lip to keep from screaming.
At this moment, there's no past, no future. Just delicious sensations. Timeless, eternal. Here. Now.
I want to laugh. I want to cry. I'm frightened to death and elated beyond measure. I feel more comfortable and happy in his arms than I ever did with Danny in all our years together.
He starts thrusting again. Faster, harder, our bodies slapping against one another. Fire blazes through my insides. My skin is hot and dewy. My mouth is open. My eyes are closed. The sensation is better than anything I can describe. I'm blazing hot but shivering. I'm struck by lightning, but drowned in the sea.
I gasp and scream. Can anyone hear me? I don't care. I dig my nails into his shoulders as I'm consumed by the tidal wave of ecstasy.
A moment later he lets go, shuddering, crying out, as pleasure takes him over the edge. He collapses against me, his whole body shaking, his breathing hard yet shallow. I wrap my arms around him and squeeze him tight against me.
"Wow," I whisper. "That was..."
He lifts his head, his eyes sparkling as he studies my face. He smiles. "Aye. That was.” He plants a small kiss on my forehead and then cuddles me into his arms. Close. Warm. Safe.
I relax into his embrace, completely and utterly sated. For the first time since Danny cheated on me I'm a woman again. Desired. Wanted. For too long I've felt worthless. Like I wasn't even sexy enough to keep my own husband interested. But being with Robin ... suddenly I feel beautiful again.
"Wow, the other men are sure going to be surprised when they find out!" I say with a small laugh. I reach up to kiss his nose, wanting to lie like this forever.
A shadow passes over Robin's face and he runs a hand through his loose hair. He rolls off of me and onto his back, staring up at the sun.
I crinkle my brow, concerned. Did I say something wrong? I turn on my side, propping my head up on my elbow, and study him. "Um, are you okay?" I ask, reaching out to stroke his abs with my fingers.
He looks down at my hand and lets loose a sigh. "This is difficult," he says at last.
Uh-oh. Fear grips my heart. This is the moment when you know the next thing out of a guy's mouth is going to be something you don't want to hear. I'm not ready for this. I can't take any more rejection.
"Difficult?" I repeat, my whole body shaking with fear. "In what way?"
So help me, if he says it's not me, it's him... Or that he's still not over Marion. Or that's he's not looking for a serious relationship right now, blah, blah, blah. Whatever bullshit line guys come up with to inform you that they're just not that into you after banging your brains out.
" ‘Tis not that I want to hide my feelings for you," Robin says, "but I have worked very hard to lead the men of Sherwood Forest over the last year." He kicks at the ground with his foot and then turns to look at me. "And I have won their respect, Chris. But were I to show some sort of... weakness... that respect may be placed elsewhere."
I narrow my eyes, kind of getting where he's going with this. I pull my hand away. The sweetness we shared suddenly evaporates, and a dark cloud hangs over our naked bodies.
"When we banded together in Sherwood Forest for the first time—when we decided to form our own small forest community—we all signed a sacred oath. Rules to live by, you see."
"And let me guess. One of these so-called sacred rules is no girls allowed," I say. Wow. Who would have ever thought Sherwood Forest would be governed by the same commandments as a ten-year-old boy's tree fort?
"Aye." Robin sighs. "You must remember, at the time, my original men had been murdered because Robert's woman whispered our secret plans to the Sheriff of Nottingham. And I'd recently been betrayed by Marion, though in a much different way. To me, women seemed nothing more than a distraction ... and perhaps the path to our destruction. Men lose their minds, think with their cocks. If we were to keep order, I truly believed we should have no feminine distractions. I was quite insistent upon it."
"I see. And so you put it in this sacred code thing."
"Aye. Now, if the men were to learn I'd broken my own rule—one that I signed with my own blood—they would have every right to remove me from power. To cast me away. Then all the work we have done, all the progress we've made, will be for naught. I will lose everything I've spent this last year building."
"So, then that's it?" I ask, growing angry. I grab the discarded dress, wanting to cover my body, suddenly uncomfortable being naked in front of him. "Fuck me and leave me because you don't want to lose your job? That's a bit harsh, don't you think? And certainly it's information that should have been provided before the orgasms!"
"Chrissie, please!" Robin cries. He turns to face me, his face anguished. "Understand that this is not what I desire. Bloody hell, I want nothing more than to carry you into my tent and make love to you every night, casting aside any oath or rule made under God or man. I know I can trust you. But there is more to think of here than my own needs."
I sit up, yanking the dress over my head. "You're a bastard," I retort. "Just like every other man I've ever met."
Robin grabs my shoulders. "Wait," he pleads. " 'Tis not as if I am banishing you from the forest. I am not as cruel or stupid as that. All I ask is that you keep up your pretense. Our pretense. Our secret. At least until I figure out what to do."
I scowl, hating the situation, hating him. Here I thought we'd just shared something special and now I'm being told I have to hide it all. I feel sick to my stomach.
"Please!" Robin begs. "Understand this has nothing to do with the way I feel about you. I adore you. I think you're wonderful." To his credit he does look upset. I can feel myself softening a bit. "But 'tis for your own good as well as mine."
I sigh. Too b
ad I'm not really a eunuch. Or a nun. Or, I don't know, a normal 21st-century woman who didn't travel back in time. Then I'd never have to deal with any of this. 'Cause really, what am I supposed to do? I can't exactly say "Fuck you, you bastard, I'm so out of here!" can I? I mean, where would I go? I'm still just as stuck as I was before.
And I do get what he's saying. He'd be sending very mixed messages to his men—first saying no women and children and then showing up and announcing that the camp eunuch is actually a girl who not only is staying, but staying in his tent. The men would be totally pissed. And he obviously is willing to break his sacred vow for my sake. Just not openly. At least for the time being...
What to do, what to do, what to do?
"Look, I really like you, Chrissie," Robin says, reaching over to take my hand in his. I can feel my reserves melting, my anger fading as he squeezes my fingers. "And I don't want to lose you. I will work out a plan if you give me some time." He searches my face with anxious eyes. "Please?"
Argh, argh, argh.
"Okay," I say hesitantly. "But we're not hooking up again until everyone knows the truth."
"Hooking up?"
"Um, you know." I gesture helplessly to the crumpled grass.
"Lovemaking?"
"Yes. Or kissing. Or any of that relationship romance stuff. We'll just be... friends."
Robin's face falls a bit. "If that is what you want," he says. "Though forsooth I think of you as more than that." He releases my hand. It takes all of my willpower not to grab his back. But then I'd be breaking my own rule.
I try to focus. Change the subject. Move on with life. "Great. We're all good then." I scramble to my feet, doing everything I can to ignore the huge lump in my throat. "Let's get dressed and head back to the castle. We've got to free that poor guard. And didn't you say something about treasure?"
Chapter Ten
The next few weeks in Sherwood Forest seem to fly by. We plan and execute more than a dozen robberies. Robin and I spend long hours together, working out our capers. We make a great team, actually; he's tactical, I'm creative (and have more movie plots to fall back on). The men start learning to rely on my advice, and they really listen when I have something to say, which is totally cool. Certainly it's nothing I've ever experienced in my 21st-century life.
The villagers now keep watch for our arrival, cheering at the first sight of Robin's trademark green clothing. They throw open their doors and welcome us noisily—thrilled at the opportunity to benefit from our crimes. We've made quite a name for ourselves and are basically local celebrities. (If this were the 21st century, we'd so have our own reality show. I'm sure of it!) Many a bard, some far more talented than Allan a Dale—though that's not saying much—sing songs about Robin and his merry men. In fact, these days you can't enter a local pub without hearing greatly exaggerated tales of our derring-do.
We rob rich men riding through the forest in carriages. We rob corrupt abbeys whose friars buy jewels with the money meant for ministry. We rob the tax collectors when they leave the villages and give the money back to those they just took it from.
The merry men that I met that first day, the ones who sat around the fire complaining about the world but not doing anything to change it, are different people now. At night they throw wild parties at camp, with lots of drink and food. During the day they are warriors, taking back what was stolen from them. They're happy and dedicated to the cause. They have something to live for. They're making a difference.
And so am I. For the first time in my life I feel like I'm doing something worthwhile. Something good. Each day I'm working to change people's lives for the better. It's certainly a more worthwhile career than my previous one of photographing already anorexic women and then doctoring them further with PhotoShop. Now I'm fattening up children instead of convincing them they need to diet.
It's funny, really. When the gypsy first sent me back in time I thought only about helping Kat; I had no idea I'd end up helping the whole kingdom. Not a bad way to whittle away the hours before King Richard's return, I guess.
Oh, and the eunuch thing? Well, Robin may have been right on the money when he said it was too dangerous to reveal my true sex to the men. I'm realizing more and more that in this day and age women just aren't equal. They couldn't plan battles. Hell, if the men knew I was a chick they'd probably relegate me to cooking and cleaning—if they didn't kick me out of the camp altogether.
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 th
eir 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.
A Hoboken Hipster In Sherwood Forest Page 12