Mojitos with Merry Men (15 page)

And that's all I can get out before his mouth is on mine once again, kissing me with a passion I've never felt before.

"God's teeth! How could I have been so blind?" Robin murmurs, pulling away for a moment to examine my face. His hands grip my shoulder blades. "'Tis so obvious. You're sweet and beautiful and fair…" He takes my face in his hands, his own inches away. I can feel his hot breath steam my lips as he studies me with his emerald eyes. "I've been fighting this ever since that day on the log. When you dove into the water to save me. I thought I was going mad. I'd never been one of those men who liked lads. But you, there is something about you, Christian—" He stops and cocks his head. "What is your true name then?"

"Chrissie," I say. "Well, technically it's Christine."

"Christine," he murmurs, reaching behind me to undo my ponytail, allowing red curls to tumble around my face. He runs his fingers through the strands in an almost worshipful caress. "Oh, Christine." He leans forward and presses a small kiss against my lips, then pulls away.

"What?" I ask, not wanting any of this to stop, even for a millisecond.

"I forget myself," he says, releasing me. "The mere fact that you are a woman does not mean you desire me. And I have never been the type to force my affections."

"Are you kidding me?" I ask. "I've wanted you since the moment I laid eyes on you. Do you know how hard it's been to act like a boy this whole time?"

"I cannot imagine, my dear," Robin says fondly. "Though I must say, you did a very good job of it. I feel like quite the fool to not have guessed."

"Oh yes, you are very foolish. Very foolish indeed." I playfully plant a kiss on his nose. He smirks and returns the gesture, adding a loud smacking sound effect.

I giggle, throwing my hands above my head and collapsing into the grass—all the weight and stress of my secret lifted from my shoulders. I feel light enough to fly. And certainly happy enough. What had I been so afraid of? He's not mad I'm a girl. If anything, he's overjoyed.

Robin pulls on my hand, bringing me back up to a seated position. I study his face. His smile has faded, and in its place is a serious, contemplative look. I open my mouth to ask him what's wrong, but before I can speak, he takes my face in his hands and presses his lips against mine.

Ooh, time for kiss number two. And this time, there's no shocking secret to interrupt us.

This is not the crush of mouths we experienced earlier, either. Now his mouth is soft, gentle. His lips are inquiring—they move in an almost reverential caress. I allow myself a small moan as he trails kisses along my cheekbone. He nibbles my ear. He's barely touched me, and already my insides are completely melty. How can one man's kiss stir such instant passion?

Kisses were never like this with Danny. He always treated them as an obligatory routine—a means to an end. Warm me up with a few kisses then move in for the kill. But Robin seems disinterested in hurrying to the main event. In fact, his soft groans make me believe he's enjoying the foreplay as much as I am.

In a way, it's strange, really, to kiss a stranger like this, someone other than Danny. After all, Danny was my first. The one I thought would be till death. But I'm not dead. In fact, I can't remember a time when I felt more alive.

Robin's hands run through my hair, separating each strand, then lower to my shoulders, dusting my arms with light dancing fingers, tickling my suddenly sensitive skin. Slowly exploring. Caressing. Taking his time. I let out a gasp of pleasure at the tingly sensation his touch evokes.

He reaches my hands, intertwining his fingers with mine while his mouth tastes my neck. Soft, featherlight kisses dance across my skin.

He lowers me gently to the grass. Somehow it's sweet smelling, of honeysuckle. Musky, of desire. Hands still holding mine, he pulls my arms above my head, effectively but gently pinning me down. He crawls on top of me. I attempt to stay calm. To not squirm against him as desire takes hold. He's making an effort to be gentle. Holding himself back.

"Oh lady," he groans, confirming my suspicion of his current state of sacrifice. "You tempt me sorely. But, I do not want to be the man to…steal your honor."

I look up in surprise. Oh. He must think I'm a virgin or something. After all, women back in these times didn't hook up till they were married. Er, how am I going to explain this without sounding like a Sherwood slut?

"Don't worry," I encourage, freeing my hand from his grasp and reaching up to loosen his hair from its leather tie. It falls into his face, and he grins, shaking it aside. "I'm a…widow." That is almost true, considering that while Danny may be technically still breathing, at this moment, he's definitely dead to me.

Evidently satisfied by my explanation, Robin lowers his mouth to my neck. "Oh God," he mouths against my skin. "I have to have you. Now."

And I, I realize, have to be had.

*   *   *

"Wow," I whisper. "That was…"

He lifts his head beside me, 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 Marian. Or that's he's not looking for a serious relationship right now, blah, blah, blah. Whatever bullcrap 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 Marian, 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…well, you know. 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. "Screw 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 hooking up!"

"Chrissie, please!" Robin cries. He turns to face me, his face anguished. "Understand that this is not what I desire. 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 complete jerk, you know that?" 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 bad 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 just stomp my feet and run away, 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 furious. 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 care about 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?"

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. Heck, 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.