Sherwood (A Robin Hood Time-Travel Romance) the Complete Novel by Mimi Riser

Author:Mimi Riser
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: robin hood, archery, medieval england, sherwood forest, medieval castles, mystery and humor, maid marian, romantic supense, romantic adventure fantasy, medieval adventure romance
Publisher: Mimi Riser

*****

Marian awoke the next day to grim thoughts and an empty bed. The latter should have been a relief. She wondered why it wasn’t.

Roland hadn’t come home till late the previous night. She’d heard him enter the bedchamber and buried her face in the pillow, feigning sleep. A long moment he’d stood staring, his eyes burning into the back of her head, then he’d turned and left. Off to a certain cottage in the woods, she supposed, and a warmer reception than any she dared offer him. It had taken her hours to find actual sleep after that, and when it came, it brought no comfort like it used to, no forest fantasy of heroics and love, just an aching black void.

Feeling anything but rested now, she climbed out from under the covers and into a deep blue robe Lady Isolde had given her. “It matches your eyes,” the woman had said. This morning, the color also matched her mood. Terrific. At least she was nicely coordinated.

She lifted a lute, a second gift from Isolde, off a chair and sat by the window, holding the instrument on her lap and gazing across the front grounds to the trees of Sherwood, trees she’d once seen every night in her dreams. But no more it seemed. She doubted she’d ever have her Robin Hood dream again, not in sleep. The fantasy had crystallized into reality. There’d be no more dreaming it. She had to live it now. She ought to be leaping for joy. She felt like slitting her wrists.

Bending her head, she focused on tuning the lute instead.

A beating of wings drew her attention back to the window. She watched a bird alight on the sill and nearly burst into tears. The damn thing was a robin.

“Come to rescue me from the big bad sheriff? You’re a little late, sweetie. But stick around, I was just about to play our song.” With a humorless laugh, she returned to the tuning.

The robin cocked his head, staring intently at her. Marian talked to him while she fiddled with the strings.

“Tricky things, lutes. But not as tricky as spindles. Y’know, I think Isolde gave me this to stop me from learning how to spin. Well, actually to stop me from ruining any more wool. I discovered yesterday that spindles and I have a major personality conflict.”

She’d had much better luck with the lute, having already mastered one of its descendants, the guitar, years ago in high school. Or should that be years ahead? Whatever.

“This sound okay to you?” She strummed a few chords.

The robin cocked his head in the other direction.

“That’s about as close as I’m going to get it, I think. Listen carefully now, Sir Robin. This will be a big hit for the Righteous Brothers in about seven hundred and fifty years. I can’t sing it as well as Bobby Hatfield, of course, but it doesn’t sound half bad on a lute. Not now anyway. I sat here practicing last night after everyone else went to bed.

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