Sherwood, Special Preview: The First 7 Chapters (A Robin Hood Time-Travel Romance)

by Mimi Riser

  *****

  Light pricking her eyelids. A hard cold surface at her back. A colder ache in her heart.

  Marian knew the reason for all three. She’d fallen asleep with the lights on again, sleepwalked her way out of the bedroom again, and been dreaming of Robin Hood.

  Again.

  The first was rough on her electric bill, the second rough on her health, and the third… The third was just plain rough. More than rough. That damn dream was destroying her sanity. Not that she didn’t have plenty of other problems to make her crazy, but she kept hoping she could get past her other neurosis—eventually—if she could just get past the one in the hood who smelled like herbal shampoo.

  Which raised an interesting question all by itself—the idea that she could smell him at all. Dreams didn’t usually have scents, did they? None of her other dreams did—when she had other dreams, which wasn’t often. Mr. Moonlight-and-Magic monopolized her sleep time. He was there almost every night. And it was so damn depressing waking up alone. Like now.

  Marian groaned, put her hands over her eyes, tried to pretend he was still lying beside her. Or had he been under her this time? Already the dream had faded into the back alleys of her mind. She could barely remember it, except for the beginning. How weird. Usually, it was the parts with Robin she recalled, with everything else a fuzzy blur. This time Robin was the blur and…

  She squeezed her eyes shut tighter, concentrating, replaying the details one by one. Hmm, this time she remembered the sheriff, the capture—even what brought her to Sherwood in the first place.

  Time-travel? With little Orlando? Where on earth did her subconscious dig up that that scenario? Maybe she should tell the kid, just to give him a laugh. He might get a kick out of it. Then again, he’d probably think she was nuts.

  And I’d have to agree with him.

  She let out a deep sigh.

  Marian, this proves it, your brain is dissolving. Get up and go to bed while you can still move, you idiot. Sheesh, what a headache she had. Her skull felt ready to split open.

  “Uhh, I think I’m getting a migraine,” she muttered aloud.

  With a grunt she heaved onto her side. She was almost afraid to open her eyes and see where she’d ended up. The last time she’d sleepwalked she’d awoken in the back of her closet; the time before, scrunched into the cubbyhole under the kitchen sink, with water dripping on her. Yuck. It was always some close, confined space, as though she’d been trying to hide. Why, she had no idea. Or, rather, she did know; she just didn’t like thinking about it.

  Okay, that’s enough.

  “To bed—now!” she ordered herself. Her voice rang out shrill and sharp. Ouch. The noise did nothing to help her headache.

  A throaty rumble sounded nearby. That didn’t help either.

  A snore? Marian’s eyes popped open. Her heart stopped.

  “Oh. My. God.” She was still dreaming, right? She must be.

  There in front of her loomed a blocky gray stone manor house. She was lying in a circle of torchlight before its massive wood door. A few feet to the side of the door, propping up the wall, slouched a bleary-eyed sentry—the source of the snore. It looked like he’d been dozing at his post and only just come to his senses.

  Marian wished she hadn’t come to hers. Holding her breath she blinked up at him. He pulled away from the wall and peered over her head into the darkness outside the circle of light.

  “Who goes there?” he barked.

  His voice brought an answering chorus of barks from inside, behind the great door. Real barks. Terrific.

  She girded her loins and hauled to her feet, dusted off her gown—the green one, she noticed morbidly.

  The man’s gaze landed on her. His eyes opened wide. He snapped to attention. “Lady Elaine!”

  Oh no, not again.