Champion Page 2

  Not daring to glance behind him to see his friend or how many more men Peter had killed, Archer rushed into the trees. He wasn’t out of danger yet. The pounding of horse’s hooves rumbled on the ground. Panic swept through him faster.

  He feared unless a miracle happened sometime soon, he would be joining his friend in Heaven.

  His chest burned with pain from his heavy breaths, but he kept running. He reached a hill, and practically stumbled down, gaining more speed as he went. The corner of his gaze caught a tree as he passed, and especially the hollow hole at the trunk. Several broken branches lie nearby.

  Quickly, his mind pieced together a hideout—if only momentarily.

  He stopped, grabbed the broken leafy limbs, and dove inside the trunk, pulling the branches with him for shelter.

  He stayed still, even though his heartbeat sped faster than the horses that had been following him. When the pounding on the ground grew closer, he tried to calm his breathing, but it was nearly impossible.

  Soon, the riders passed his hiding place. The good Lord above must be protecting him, because none of the riders stopped or even slowed. Still, Archer didn’t dare move. Not yet. They may return, and he couldn’t take the chance of being caught. He feared because of what he’d done in front of the sheriff that man wouldn’t want to just hang him. Indeed, that man would want to torture the Lord of Loxley first just to prove his point to the town.

  Time passed, but he didn’t know how long he’d been in this tree trunk. However, he was hotter now than when he’d been wearing the mail armor earlier. Moisture dripped down his face as though it were raining outside. He swept his long hair back on his head, hoping it would help bring some coolness to his skin.

  But it didn’t matter how hot he was. He wouldn’t move until he felt safe.

  Quietly as he could, he situated himself on the ground until he sat on his bottom, knees bent in front of him as his feet were flat on the ground. Sighing, he rested his head against his knees. Images of Peter’s last expression and recalling his last words brought a lump to Archer’s throat. He’d never forgive himself. His friend’s death should have been avoided. Archer should have done something... Acting sooner than he had in the courtyard might have done the deed. Of course, now he’d never know.

  He closed his eyes and tried to relax, but his senses were on alert at anything and everything. Memories assailed him of Peter fighting beside him in the Crusades. Such a fearsome warrior. Such a heroic man. There should have been a better way to die for someone so noble and courageous. In fact, Peter should have lived to be a very old man.

  Voices in the distance brought Archer alert and he held the broken leafy branches tighter against the tree. He prayed the shadows in the hollow of the tree would hide him well enough.

  As he waited, dusk slowly covered the ground. Soon, they wouldn’t be able to see very clearly. Most likely, the soldiers would retreat back to the castle in Nottingham.

  The horses came into view. He held his breath, pulling back as much as he could. Six riders trotted their horses so near to the tree, he could smell their sweat and practically taste the dust on his tongue.

  “He could not have disappeared into thin air,” one of them said briskly, sounding out of breath.

  “I think it was farther down the hillside where we lost him,” another one spoke.

  “He’s hiding, I just know it.

  Remember men,” one with a strong voice said, “Lord Loxley fought in the Crusades. He is probably very crafty. I’m certain he is close by. We just need to find him.

  It’s getting late,” a man said softer than the others. “If we don’t find him now, we won’t once the sun sets.

  But if we don’t bring him back to the sheriff, I fear what our fates will be, and I do not want the sheriff running a blade through me.”

  The others grumbled in agreement.

  They weren’t going to give up easily, Archer was certain. Many times he’d been in situations where he was nearly killed while fighting in the Holy Wars, yet something always happened to free him. He’d either used his quick wit or his skills with the sword or bow and arrow. Unfortunately, now he couldn’t use any of them. Six against one were not good odds.

  Closing his eyes, he prayed for a way out, knowing this would be the one time God wouldn’t answer his prayers.

  CALIFORNIA, PRESENT day

  “Yes! That looks great. Hold it right there.”

  Payton Fox knelt in front of the model holding a shield in one hand and a sword with his other. She focused the lens on her camera and clicked a couple of pictures.

  “Ted,” she called to her co-worker in the back of the room. “Give us more wind. I want his hair to blow.”

  The motor of the fan sped up a notch, and finally her model’s hair began moving with the breeze. Wearing medieval armor, he looked the part of a historical warrior. In fact, he could have walked off the pages of a history book. It was hard not to pat herself on the back since she and her co-workers were the ones who had made the period costumes to look so authentic.

  “Lisa, can you move that lock of hair from his shoulder?” Payton asked one of the helpers.

  Instead of Lisa, a college-aged girl who helped on occasions, hurried over to the model and flipped his blonde hair. The wind from the fan blew Calvin’s hair perfectly now.

  “Oh, this is great. Now Cal, move your head a little to the left,” Payton instructed as she clicked a few more shots.

  The serious expression on his face quickly changed. A twinkle now lit his eyes as a grin stretched his lips. Payton shifted her gaze toward the direction Calvin was peering. The college-aged girl—oh, what’s her name—was giving him that come hither look as she twirled a piece of her black hair around a finger.

  Payton rolled her eyes. Not again! Why couldn’t these people act professional around this place? True, their models were sometimes only half dressed, and showed their muscular bare chests much too often, but that was no reason to act like love-struck teenagers. Thankfully, this girl wasn’t on their payroll or Payton would have made sure she was taken off.

  She moved and stood in front of the girl, trying to block her view from Calvin. Why can’t I remember her name? “Okay, Cal. I want you to look at the camera now with that same smoldering expression.”

  Calvin didn’t bat an eye when she verbalized the silent communication going on between him and...Jill. Yeah, that’s her name, Jill. But the girl’s giggling would have to stop or Payton was going to scream.

  Click. Click.

  It had been a long photo shoot today. A good ten hours. It was time to quit. She blew out an exhausted breath and stood, lowering her camera.

  “I think we’re done for the day.” She glanced at the others standing in the room and smiled. “We had a great photo shoot, didn’t we?”

  Whispers of agreement rose and the others nodded. A few yawned. Indeed, it had been a very long day for everyone.

  Payton arched her back, trying to release some of the knots. Most of the others in the room started cleaning up and putting things away—all except for Calvin and Jill. They stood very close to each other in the corner of the room and spoke in low voices. Jill giggled more than she should, irritating Payton that much more.

  She turned away, trying not to watch. It hurt too much. She’d learned quickly that Calvin couldn’t be faithful to just one woman. Had it only been two months ago when she had fallen hard for the gorgeous model? All it took was for him to turn his mesmerizing blue eyes on her as she stroked his blonde hair. He’d been so charming that she couldn’t help but want to be near him all the time. It only took a week to realize he loved the attention, not only from her, but all the single women. Too bad he looked so dang good wearing historical period clothing or she would have found another model to work with.

  He may have fit the clothing, but in no way did he act like a man from the past. In all the books she’d read, historical men had manners, elegance, and treated women with respect. Most of them
were selfless, and they followed their heart.

  Why couldn’t men of her time be like that? She’d dated nothing but loser after loser since high school. Her twenty-sixth birthday approached quickly and she felt like an old maid. Of course, she’d convinced herself she hadn’t been looking for a husband all of that time because she wanted to pursue her love of photography which would take her all around the world.

  Unfortunately, as of yet, she hadn’t traveled that far, however, she had taken a lot of pictures. In the last two years, she and her best friend, Mary, had started a company—Into the Past. They not only found models and took pictures, but together they had sewn the costumes needed to make the time period appear authentic. Once the pictures were taken, they placed them on their website and sold them to big publishers. Mainly romance publishers and authors from all over the world bought their images.

  Their reputation spread quickly, growing by leaps. They were successful not only with the publishers, but with the models. They had a waiting list of models who wanted to work with them.

  Life couldn’t be better...unless she had a man to love and share it with.

  As Payton exited the room, Calvin and Jill’s laughter flitted through the air. She rolled her eyes. Calvin would never be the type of man for her. Yet, where could she find the one who would fit into her life?

  Mary had once told Payton that she had wanted too much out of a man. She expected above and beyond what was considered normal.

  After locking her camera away in a cabinet, she hurried out the back porch to breathe in some fresh air. Once the cool evening breeze caressed her face, she sighed and closed her eyes. The soft wind teased the wisps of hair that had come loose from her ponytail today, but the air felt good against her parched skin.

  Calmness crept into her body and she walked to the corner of the patio, leaning against the short wicker fence. The night sky was filled with stars. She’d always loved gazing into the sky, hoping to see a falling star so that she could make a wish.

  Chuckling, she shook her head. Not that it did any good since her wishes had never come true. Then again, she’d only seen three falling stars in her lifetime.

  If she could make a wish and have it come true, what would she wish for? To be rich forever? No. She enjoyed making money and being responsible for her bills. Being rich might become annoying at some point in her life.

  Would she wish for true happiness? She smiled. Definitely. But did she need a man to make her happy? Probably not, although having a husband and children were necessary in the long scheme of things.

  So perhaps her wish would be to find the man who would always make her happy. A man who would love her unconditionally. A man who would treat her like a queen and respect her. A man who would want to be her companion and best friend.

  A man she could grow old with.

  Irritation grew inside of her when memories of Calvin resurfaced, along with the other men she’d dated. None of them had treated her the way she’d wanted. Too bad men like that didn’t live in her lifetime.

  Deep down inside, she wanted a man like Prince Charming—a man from the fairy tale and folklore stories. A man who was heroic and would love her all the time.

  A movement in the sky caught her attention and she focused on the object. A falling star! She had to make the wish quickly before it disappeared.

  Holding her breath, she whispered, “Please send me a fairy tale man who will love me forever.”

  The star disappeared and she exhaled slowly. As she thought back on her wish, she grimaced. Perhaps she should have worded it differently. Oh well, it wouldn’t come true anyway.

  She turned away from the porch to head back inside when from out in the yard, the bushes rustled and a low voice grumbled in annoyance.

  She swung to where the sound was coming from just in time to see a man stumble out of the tall hedges, brushing off his clothes.

  Although...his clothes weren’t exactly everyday clothes that normal people wore but looked like the armor Calvin had just been wearing during their photo shoot. The man even had a sword in one hand and a bow and arrow hooked over his shoulder, and a helmet tucked under his arm.

  How odd.

  Once he was free of the bushes, he stopped and scanned the yard. Not much light from the quarter moon shone on him, but there was enough for her to see his wide eyes. He raked a hand through his long hair—nearly as long as Calvin’s, except this man’s hair was dark. At this point, she couldn’t tell if the color was black or brown.

  When his gaze landed on her, he jumped and hitched a breath, acting startled that someone would be watching him.

  “Pardon me, Miss, but...where am I?”

  Payton wanted to snicker, but the man’s frightened and panicked expression kept her from laughing. He genuinely appeared lost. It was obvious he was looking for the photo shoot. Why else would he be wearing his own costume? And yet, he was ten hours too late.

  She stepped onto the grass toward him. “You’re at my house. This is where we do the photo shoot, which I assume, is why you’re here.”

  He shook his head. “Photo shoot? I know not of what you say, Miss.”

  As she came closer, she could see his eyes better, and confusion still marked his expression as he slid his gaze up and down her length.

  “Miss, why are you dressed in such odd clothing?”

  She stopped and rubbed her forehead, trying her hardest not to laugh. However, a small chuckle escaped her throat. She just couldn’t help it. “I could say the same about you.” She motioned her hand in front of him. “Why are you wearing armor?

  Not too long ago, I was a guard at the courtyard as we prepared for a hanging.”

  She bit her cheek. If he kept saying such idiotic things, she wouldn’t be able to hold back from laughing hysterically. “The courtyard? And where exactly would that be?

  In Nottingham. The sheriff was trying to hang an innocent man.” His gaze ran around the yard again before coming back to her. “But I know not of where I am. This is not the glade in which I was hiding located by Sherwood Forest.”

  She placed her hand over her mouth. Good grief, she was going to laugh now. But no, she couldn’t, only because the man looked serious. Great acting skills, too. He was totally into character. “Sherwood Forest? The Sheriff of Nottingham? Really?

  Indeed.” He nodded.

  “And who might you be? Little John?”

  One of his eyebrows arched higher than the other. “I know not of this Little John. No, my name is Archer, Lord of Loxley.

  Yes, I can see you are some kind of archer.” She pointed to his bow and arrow. “But what is your name?

  Archer. That is my Christian name. I’m Lord of Loxley.”

  Her laughter started out small, but grew louder. She just couldn’t stop it this time. “Are you trying to tell me you are Robin Hood?”

  Anger lit his eyes as he scowled. In one quick movement he stepped closer and brought the sword to her throat. All humor disappeared and panic replaced the emotion filling her.

  This man was not only confused, he was insane. He was a violent crazy person.

  “Nobody calls me Robin,” he growled. “Do you understand me, maiden?”

  She wanted to swallow but was too afraid his sword might nick her skin from the movement. Silently, she prayed someone would come out of the house and help her. If not, she needed to do some quick thinking—and talking—to make him sheath his sword.

  She was too young to die!

  TWO

  Archer stared intently into the woman’s eyes, trying to read her thoughts. However, he’d learned by now that women were very hard to figure out, and this particular one wouldn’t be any different from any of the others.

  Since he’d realized he was in the bushes instead of in the hollow of the tree, he couldn’t shake off the confusion surrounding him. Why was nothing making any sense? One minute he was there, and now he was here. And, although this female was a lovely woman, she was very odd, not only w
ith her form of dress but in the way she spoke.

  “I-I-I’m sorry.” Her voice squeaked. “I didn’t know.”

  Realization dawned on him. Of course she didn’t know. Only his childhood friends knew how he loathed that nickname. He was not Robin. His middle name was Robert. Yet, some of the children he’d grown up with teased him endlessly, and it had become worse when they noticed how much it irritated him.

  He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, trying to calm his ire. “My full name is Archer Robert Loxley—not Robin—and you’ll do well to remember that next time.”

  He lowered the sword and sheathed it, and then crossed his arms over his chest. She nodded and took a step back. Her body trembled slightly and her face had lost color.

  Guilt washed through him for mistreating her so. He blamed it on the confusion still rushing through his mind. He should not have taken it out on her.

  Yet, why did everything look so different? The manner of building which stood nearby was unlike anything he’d ever seen before. And her manner of dress showed off her long legs—bare, no less—and more of her throat and bosom than he was prepared to witness at this moment. With it being night, he wondered if this was her nightdress, yet the length was well above her knees.

  Shameful.

  And in a strange way, very alluring.

  “Miss, please accept my apology for startling you.” He licked his dry lips. “I do not enjoy being called Robin, and so when you said that name, I overreacted. Will you forgive me?”

  Slowly, color seeped back into her cheeks. She blinked and her eyes widened. “Uh, sure, I guess.” She nodded. “I mean, yes, I’ll forgive you.” Her gaze dropped to his sword. “Is that thing real? Because it certainly looks like the real thing.”

  Once again, her verbiage confused him greatly, but he caught the essence of what she was asking. “Yes, of course. My sword is real.

  It’s very lovely. I’ve never seen anything like it before. Where did you get it?