Fantasies R Us, page 10
“Break it up, boys,” spoke up the educated voice of a man pushing his way to the front of the crowd.
Little John looked at the dark-haired man with the goatee who gave him a clipped nod. Little John stepped back into line and the fellow who’d stepped forward turned his tall, sturdy frame to Jayne and bowed his head of wavy, sandy-brown hair.
“Will Scarlet at your service, my lady.”
There was that courtly my lady business again. Dang but she liked it.
Will Scarlet straightened before her, winked a warm hazel eye at her and smiled just enough to tug at the deep dimple in his chin. Okay, maybe it wasn’t just the words that brought a smile to her lips.
From the corner of her eye, she caught the jerk of Michael’s head as his attention shifted from Will to her. Surely Michael couldn’t be jealous. But when she looked into Michael’s eyes, she found them studying her from a frame of troubled creases as though he found her smile more troublesome than the men surrounding them.
She pulled her mouth into a flat line and lowered her eyes. Though why she should be contrite she didn’t know. It wasn’t like she’d done something wrong. This was her fantasy and he was merely a…
She winced. She’d vowed not to think about what he really was.
But he was acting…possessive. Surely cyborgs didn’t experience jealousy. Did they?
Unless she desired it.
And did she not want to be so desired by a man that he would act just this way?
Before she could lift her gaze again and take another, closer look into Michael’s eyes, Will told him to fetch her gown. Whatever she thought she had seen in Michael’s eyes wasn’t in the look he gave Will. Will, feet planted the same defensive angle as Michael’s and his hands firmly on his long bow, gave him a reassuring nod. “I’ll see that none approach her.”
Michael didn’t move. Protective. That’s what Michael was being.
“Including myself,” Will added.
Without taking his eyes from Will Scarlet and the men forming a half-circle behind him, Michael backed to the rocks where he’d tossed her gown to dry. He snatched it up along with his clothes and returned. Stopping between her and the band of men, he tossed his garments over his shoulder and handed her the gown, muttering, “I’ll hold the blanket up for you to dress behind.”
He and Will exchanged adversarial glances. A knowing smile flexed across Will’s lips and he pivoted toward the other men.
“Turn around, men,” he said. “Let’s give the lady her privacy.”
“Ain’t like we haven’t already seen all the lady has to offer,” Much chirped.
“Then you’ve all seen enough to keep yourselves company for a good fortnight to come. Isn’t that right, Robin?” Will looked at the blue-eyed, dark-haired man she’d already pegged as the infamous bandit.
Robin inclined his head to Will, saying to the others, “You heard Will, men. Let’s be gentlemen for the lady.”
Robin gave her a crooked smile and turned his back. Begrudgingly, his merry men followed his example.
Still, Michael held the blanket between her and the band of men as she slipped into her gown.
“I caution you against these men, Jayne,” he whispered. “They won’t be gentle.”
“No doubt,” she muttered absently, trying to figure out how to fasten her buttonless bodice.
She looked over the blanket at him. “How am I supposed to wear this after you ripped the buttons off?”
She held her hands out to her sides. The bodice of the gown fell open, exposing her breasts. He frowned. Not quite the reaction she was used to getting from a man programmed to worship her.
“It’s also still wet, thanks to you and your shenanigans,” she groused, piqued by his behavior…and confused by her mixed feelings about his reactions.
He nodded at the clothes draped over his shoulder. “Take my shirt. Wear that.”
She didn’t pause to contemplate the fit of his large poet’s shirt to her slighter frame. She didn’t think about where the bottom of the shirt would fall on her. She didn’t ponder the density of the cloth, how rough or smooth the fabric would be against her skin or…how it would smell of him. She didn’t think of any of this…until the sun-warmed shirt settled over her shoulders, enveloped her hands and brushed the tops of her knees.
Whatever ambivalence she was feeling toward Michael sharpened into one unified sensation as that shirt tumbled down over her and moved with the breeze against her skin. It was as though he had swallowed her up, like his hands were everywhere on her body.
She brought her hands up to her face, closed her eyes and buried her nose in the blousing fabric covering her hands. The shirt smelled of him and her and of their sex. She sighed. His fingers skimmed her breastbone and she swayed toward him as though he were the only man in the world for her.
“Stand still,” he muttered and she opened her eyes, saw that the blanket and her gown now pooled on the ground at their feet.
He tugged the cords crisscrossing the vee opening of the shirtfront tight and tied them. “Keep close to me.”
* * * * *
The Merry Men herded them into the forest before she could question Michael about why a band of fantasy bandits should put him so on guard. Almost immediately, the old woods with its towering trees blocked out much of the sunlight. She shivered and Will Scarlet draped the blanket around her shoulders.
“Thank you.”
Will inclined his head and smiled at her. Michael growled.
Yet, the two seemed of like intent, flanking her as they strode deeper into the forest, keeping themselves between her and the rest of the men. What was the problem? Randy inclinations aside, the jovial banter of The Merry Men as they moved deeper into the forest made them seem harmless enough. Still, when the path narrowed to single file, Will positioned himself in front of her and Michael behind.
By the time they came to the camp, Jayne’s feet were sore. Slippers were not made for hiking. Gratefully, she sank onto one of the logs facing a cold fire pit.
Robin barked out orders, one of them to fetch their guests wine to drink. Great. She was parched.
“We’d prefer water,” Michael said.
Better, she silently agreed. Though Michael automatically taking it upon himself to choose her drink raised her hackles, weary as she was.
“Water’s brackish by this time of day,” huffed out Friar Tuck as he dropped heavily onto the log beside her. “Wine’s safer.”
“Perhaps someone could fetch fresh water,” Michael pressed.
“In due time,” the friar said, greedily holding up his wooden cup to the lad with the wineskin. “Boy can fetch water after he’s served the wine.”
After filling the friar’s cup, the boy offered her and Michael cups. Michael waved his away. She took one and let him fill it near to the brim. She had a point to make…and she was thirsty.
By the time everyone was served, the campfire was blazing under a spitted haunch of venison and she’d downed half the glass of strong wine. Robin Hood sauntered over to her, wineskin in hand.
“Would my lady like a refill?”
Another my lady reference and this from the infamous leader of the band. She smiled broadly up at Robin Hood. Will Scarlet cleared his throat. Michael growled.
She gave her two hovering guards a pointed glance and held her cup up to the handsome Robin. “A refill would be nice, thank you.”
“’Tis not often we are afforded such lovely company,” Robin said, topping off her wine cup and winking one brilliant blue eye at her.
Lovely. He’d called her lovely, this gorgeous hunk of maleness. And this after she’d been dunked in a swimming hole. She could only imagine how wild her curls were.
Little John appeared at Robin’s shoulder, his towering hulk drawing her gaze upward. His hair was damp and slicked back and he extended a massive hand holding a sparse bouquet of wildflowers toward her.
“For you, my lady,” he mumbled, a shy edge to his gruff voice.
“Why, thank you, John,” she said, accepting the bouquet from his huge hand.
Some of the flowers dropped from their broken stems into her lap. Others flopped from their crushed stems over her fingers. Little John scuffed the ground with his big feet and rocked back on his heels.
Another of the merry men pushed his way around Little John with a floral offering of his own, these woven into a wreath for her hair. Yet another appeared at her shoulder with a huge leaf piled high with peeled acorns, spouting, “They’s a tasty snack, my lady.”
More men crushed in around her. One of them stepped on her foot and she cried out.
“Give the lady some breathing room,” Will commanded.
Michael just glowered from man to man to her. How dare he? This was her fantasy, not his and she was enjoying the attention…even if the crowding of all those male bodies unnerved her a bit. She was beginning to understand Michael’s comment about these men not being gentle.
“Allow me to be of service, my lady,” Friar Tuck said, shifting his bulk on the log and taking up her injured foot.
“It’s fine, really,” she said.
He removed her slipper. She reached for it, protesting.
“You really don’t need to—”
His fingers pressed into a spot that released all the tension from her muscles. She moaned, her protests forgotten, and gave both her feet up to the friar’s magic fingers. After all, this was a man of the cloth. Surely there was nothing untoward about his massaging her feet. And if Michael complained, she’d remind him he hadn’t yet massaged her feet as he’d promised.
She sipped her wine and Robin sipped his, his gaze skating up her bare legs propped in Friar Tuck’s lap to where the bottom of Michael’s shirt draped her thighs. She should be troubled by his hungry look, not flattered by his attention. That’s what a remnant of reason hammered at the back of her head.
But between the friar’s magic fingers on her feet, the heavenly scent of the wild flowers circling her head and filling her lap and the strong wine warming a path through her veins, she was too relaxed to care. Besides, she’d never before enjoyed so much attention from any man let alone a whole band of them.
She yawned and her eyelids drifted low over her eyes.
“Will,” Robin said in a voice that seemed far off, “go see why it’s taking Boy so long to fetch the water.”
Will grumbled something that sounded like a protest, but she couldn’t be sure. The heat of the wine had reached her ears, her hot blood throbbing against her eardrums. But he left and she decided he couldn’t have been too troubled about leaving her with the merry men after all. Besides, everyone knew Robin Hood and his band were good guys.
She shrugged the blanket from her shoulders and shook her hair off her neck, her eyelids sinking shut. Was that a growl she heard?
She wasn’t sure. But that was definitely a hand grabbing her breast.
She jerked away from the hand accosting her as well as the friar’s fingers on her bare feet. She found herself surrounded by the Merry Men, all of them gone still save for the rise and fall of Friar Tuck’s chest as he breathed heavily.
Michael stood over her, gripping Much’s grubby wrist. Something told her it had been Much’s hand on her breast. A downward glance and a smear of grime where the poet’s shirt tented one breast confirmed her suspicion.
“I think I’m going to be sick,” she said, scrambling to her feet.
Instantly, Michael had her by the arm and was pulling her into the woods. At the edge of the firelight’s reach, she bent and retched.
“I warned you about these men,” Michael said, his voice hard and harsh even though he rubbed her back.
“It’s just Much,” she croaked out, still bent over. “He’s the creep of the bunch.”
Michael’s hand stilled on her back. “And you think the rest haven’t plans to take the same liberties with you? That they aren’t plotting to do far more?”
“You’re just jealous,” she panted out.
He put his mouth close to her ear. “I don’t think you understand what is happening here.”
She turned her face toward his. “A fantasy is what’s happening here.”
His eyebrows pulled together above the bridge of his nose. “Then this is what you requested?”
She straightened and wiped her mouth on her sleeve. “What? To puke my guts out?”
He glanced at the encampment. His hand pressed against her back urged her further from the campsite.
“Rape,” he said in a lowered voice.
“What?” she gasped.
“Shhh.” He drew her deeper into the shadows of the ancient forest. “These men mean to use you and use you hard. Did you request such a fantasy?”
“No!”
“Then something is wrong here.”
“Yeah. You. Those men are just showing me the kind of attention I’ve longed to be shown by men.”
“Wrong. They have been programmed to take you and take you hard.”
Even though her gut reaction was to trust Michael, she shook her head. “It’s just Much—”
He took her by the shoulders and made her face him. “You must have seen the lust in Hood’s eyes.”
“Yeah,” she allowed. “But lust doesn’t mean—”
“And the friar?” he demanded.
She shrugged. “He was rubbing my feet.”
“Did you not notice how hard he was breathing? The man was getting off on your feet. Damn it, Jayne, he was about to suck on your big toe when Much grabbed your boob.”
She stared into Michael’s earnest eyes. She peered through the shadowed woods at the men silhouetted by the circle of firelight. Their movements seemed agitated and Friar Tuck…
“He’s got his hand under his robes,” she squealed. “Ick.” She looked Michael in the eye. “I didn’t request a rape scenario. Honest.”
“Perhaps you requested sex with several men at one time and the fantasy facilitator misunderstood.”
She shook her head hard.
“Are you sure being fucked by several men at one time wasn’t part of the fantasy you ordered?”
“No,” she insisted.
He gave her a little shake. “Jayne. This is the second time you’ve attracted the attentions of a group of men. Are you sure you didn’t request a gang bang?”
Jayne felt the blood drain through her. “I—ah—er.”
“It’s okay if you did, Jayne. This place is about fulfilling your wildest fantasies.”
“And you think I would actually ask for…that I would request a… I mean it’s my first time.”
“I know this is your first experience with sex, Jayne. I’m the one who deflowered you, remember?”
“Of course I remember. I’ll never forget.”
His expression softened, his grip on her loosened and his thumbs stroked little circles against the fleshy part of her upper arms. “What exactly did you request?”
“I-I’m not sure.”
“Ah. Perhaps you requested something you didn’t understand.”
“Actually, Madame Amour filled out my request form.”
Michael frowned. “You should never leave the outcome of your fantasy to a fantasy facilitator.”
“She isn’t a fantasy facilitator. She’s a dresser.”
“Human?”
“Yes.”
“She’s playing a nasty trick on you, Jayne.”
“No. She wouldn’t. She’s been very nice to me. She handled things when I…” Jayne recalled the first night of her Cinderella fantasy—to the mess she’d made of things. She grimaced and met his gaze. “When I messed things up in the garden by running away from you at the stroke of midnight, she made my fantasy facilitator fix things so we could get back together right away.”
“Okay. If you say so. But something isn’t right here.”
Jayne peered back in the direction of the camp. “Are you sure they’re ah, er—”
“They most definitely have been programmed for a scenario that you didn’t order. I suggest we get out of here while we can.”
“All I have to do is hit the panic button.” She turned, searching the trees for some sign of a button. “There’s supposed to be one in every venue.”
A whistling lifted from the camp area.
“I don’t think we have the time to search for any panic button,” Michael said, nodding toward the campsite where Robin Hood and his Merry Men seemed to be turning en masse toward them.
She gave the surrounding tree trunks another scan. The whistling turned into a chorus of whistles. The tune sounded eerily familiar.
“What is that they’re whistling?” she asked.
“The same tune your fucking dwarfs whistled this morning.”
“That’s weird,” she said.
“We need to get out of here.”
There was a gruffness to the whistling, an ominous note that wasn’t the least reminiscent of the lighthearted dwarf version. She grabbed Michael’s offered hand and sprinted off through the woods with him.
She ran and ran, even as her lungs ached, even after she got a stitch in her side. The whistling kept coming, though, and they ran some more, thorny bushes and prickly briars closing in on them until the only way open to them was a narrow path. Their only chance to escape the not so nice merry men was to keep running and hope the path led someplace safe or opened up so they could escape into the woods. But she stepped on a sharp rock.
“Ow, ow, ow,” she hooted, hopping on one foot.
“We can’t stop, Jayne. They’re gaining on us.”
The whistling was growing closer.
“There’s got to be a panic button around here somewhere,” she lamented, limping alongside him.
“We don’t have time to search for it. Hurry.”
“I am.”
They rounded a bend where the briar-lined path curved around a series of huge boulders and came face to face with Will Scarlet. Michael shoved her behind himself. Will nodded at the boulder.
“Over that. You’ll be safe there.”
“Says you?” challenged Michael.
Will nodded and took a step toward them. Michael stiffened, the muscles in his back and across his shoulders bunching, readying for a fight.
