Garrick's eyes widened. "Ah, so you do care for dear Navarre. I am so glad. He thought you were only toying with him for your own amusement."

"I can't wait to tell Navarre that his dear friend is the one who authorized this slaughter," Kendra said.

"I care not what you tell the bastard," he lifted the hood of his cloak to cover his fair hair against a sudden gust of wind. "De Galliard is no longer vital to my plans. I'm quite happy to leave him here to rot, or hang him from the highest turret of Nottingham Castle."

Kendra blinked. "You mean-" she shook her head. "Why am I surprised? Of course you aren't interested in helping England. You're only interested in helping Garrick."

"Of course," he acknowledged. "And you, too, shall help Garrick."

"Only if you spare Navarre," she said, lifting her chin determinedly. Their gazes locked for a long moment, then Garrick nodded.

"Release her. Let her accompany de Galliard in the cart. When we get to Nottingham, throw them both into the dungeon."

"The tower would be better," she dared to interject as the men untied her ropes and Garrick turned to leave. "It's cleaner, less risk of infection."

The sheriff turned back slowly, his gray eyes boring into her. "Take them to the dungeon," he repeated, "and throw them in." He lifted one finger and shook it under Kendra's nose. "Do not try my patience."

"And don't try mine," she said, clenching her fists at her sides, her heart pounding with suppressed fear. "I have nothing to lose, you know."

"You have everything to lose, and everyone," he said. Reaching out he seized her face suddenly between strong fingers, tilting her chin upward. "I have watched this camp for days. I know you love de Galliard and that you also have affection for Locksley and his men as well. And do not forget Marian."

"You wouldn't dare harm the king's ward."

He chuckled softly, the sound sending a chill through Kendra's blood.

"Wouldn't I?" He relaxed his fingers and slid them down the length of her throat, into the valley between her breasts. Kendra stiffened at his intimate touch, her face flaming red. He laughed again. "Do not think you can buy Navarre's life so cheaply. You will tell me your secret of time travel, aye, but do not think I have forgotten the business that lies unfinished between us." He caressed the top of her left breast, then dropped his hand back to his side, his gaze never leaving her face. Kendra shivered as the sheriff gestured to one of his men and stepped back, his thin lips twisted in a satisfied smile.

"Take her."

Navarre awoke flat on his stomach to darkness and the sound of men moaning. He blinked, unsure if his dimness of vision was because there was no light or because he could not see. After a moment, relief surged through him as he began to make out images around him. A dozen or more men from the outlaw's camp sat in various stages of prostration and pain. He squinted around, his fingers digging into cold stone and something that smelled suspiciously like dung. With a start, he realized where he was-in the dungeon of Nottingham.

He pushed himself up, then cried out as an excruciating pain sent him back to the hard floor. The sound of quick footsteps hurrying to his side alarmed him and with effort he opened his eyes.

"Don't move," a soft voice said.

Kendra. He smiled and tried to answer, but it was too much effort. He closed his eyes and let the comforting blackness take him away. When Navarre awoke again he had no idea how much time had passed. The pain in his back had eased and his mind felt clearer. Lifting himself warily, he eased to a sitting position, ignoring the sudden stab of fire accompanying his movements.

He looked up and saw her moving toward him, her auburn hair unbound and tangled, her blue eyes wide with a tenderness that pierced him more thoroughly than any dagger ever could. He felt shaky with relief. She had not been taken from him. Garrick had not killed her.

"Navarre," she whispered, sinking down beside him. "You're awake. I thought-" Kendra suddenly burst into tears and threw herself against him, her arms wound around him.

Navarre held her tightly, stroking her hair, confused and disoriented, but still coherent enough to recognize her relief.

"I will not die, my love," he said.

Kendra lifted her face from his chest and touched his lips with one tremulous hand. "I was afraid-oh, Navarre-when you didn't wake up..." she broke off, then pressed herself against his uninjured side. "Please, just hold me."

He gathered her closer with his left arm. "What have you heard? Obviously, I was betrayed by own men."

"Yes," Kendra said. "Led by Garrick."

He nodded and leaned his head back wearily against the stone wall behind them. "Aye. But I confess, I do not understand."

"He doesn't want the barons to rule England as you do, Navarre," she said, shifting his weight, providing herself as a pillow against the roughness of the dungeon wall. "I believe he wants to rule England himself."

Navarre laughed shortly. "Even Garrick would not be so foolish as to think he could become king. It takes power, the kind of power Garrick doesn't have." He glanced back at her. Kendra bit her lower lip and he saw the turmoil in her eyes. "What is it?"

"Time travel could give him the power he needs," she said.

He turned and faced her, his befuddled brain unable to make sense of her words.

Shaking his head slightly he sagged against the wall. "How long was I unconscious?" he asked.

"Three days."

"Three days!" He sat up abruptly. Then he gave in weakly as her fingers tightened around his shoulders, drawing him back against her. "What havoc may Garrick have wrought in this time? Have you spoken with the knave?"

"Navarre, please," Kendra begged. "You'll break your stitches open and believe me, pulling a needle and thread through your skin is something I do not want to do again."

Navarre gazed down into her flushed face, aware that she was suddenly keeping her eyes averted from his.

"I asked you a question," he said gently. "Have you spoken with the sheriff?" She hesitated, then nodded. "What did he say?"

Kendra opened her mouth, then closed it. Turning her face away from him, she stared fiercely into the dimness of the cell.

"Kendra," he said softly, "what is it?"

She seized his hand and brought it to her lips with a ragged cry. He could feel the warmth of her small tongue on his flesh and he gathered her back to him, covering her mouth with his, feeling the need to burn his claim upon her, to remind her of what they had discovered in Sherwood. She returned his kiss passionately, then with another cry, broke their embrace and lowered her face into her hands.

Navarre felt a cold anguish wash over him. "Tell me," he said, lifting a finger to trace the edge of her shoulder blade softly outlined beneath her gown. "Is it because I failed to protect you from Garrick, or because I would not listen to your warning? Or have you had time to realize that a union with a bastard such as I-"

"Stop it!" Kendra broke in with a sob, her azure eyes filled with tears. "I love you! But Garrick has already told me that tonight I will warm his bed. And this time there is nothing you can do about it."

"Tell me truly, has he sent for you already?" he asked, his throat tightening.

She shook her head vigorously. "No, I think he wants you to know when-when it's happening. Why does he hate you, Navarre? I thought you were friends."

"I know not." A sudden surge of dizziness swept over him and he leaned back against the wail as he pounded his fist against the stone in frustration. "This weakness consumes me."

"You lost a lot of blood," Kendra said. "Here, drink this." She held out a crude wooden cup filled with water and he took it from her, gulping the liquid down thankfully. "Your strength will return, but you mustn't push yourself too quickly."

Navarre drew one sleeve across his wet lips and glanced down at her, really seeing her for the first time since he had awakened. Torches ensconced around the wall provided a dim illumination. Her face was dirty, her hair matted and tangled.

She'd lost weight in the three days they'd been incarcerated. And yet she was beautiful. He raised his left hand to her face and stroked his fingers across her cheekbone.

"Think you that I will allow Garrick to defile your body or soul?" he asked, his voice low.

She glanced down at her hands, dark lashes brushing against her pale skin. "What can you do?" she whispered.

"Mayhap more than you think. Where is Locksley? Does he live?"

Kendra looked up at him, her eyes questioning. "Yes, if you can call it living. They take him out every day and torture him."

"Locksley will survive. Now, come here to me." Kendra turned herself to face him and he pulled her toward him, drawing her head down to rest upon his broad chest. "What did you say before, about Garrick and time travel?" She began to tremble, and he could feel the depth of the fear consuming her.

"He wants me to show him how to travel forward in time, to the future, where there are weapons of incredible power that can wipe out whole continents, let alone an army. Then he'll bring them back here and rule the world."

Navarre did not move, allowing her words to sink into his mind. When Kendra had told him her unbelievable story he had not wanted to believe. But he had. Perhaps if he had not seen her appear at Abury in such a magical way, perhaps if he had not seen with his own eyes the strange box called "camera," or felt the sting of the "gun," perhaps if her speech had not been so nonsensical, perhaps then he would not have believed her.

No, even then he would have believed, for he had known from the moment he first saw Kendra O'Brien that she was not of his world. Suddenly he realized he was going to lose her. Perhaps he had known it from the beginning. Perhaps that was why he had fought so hard against loving her.

"And can you show him how to travel to your world, your time?" Navarre asked, the words heavy in his throat. Kendra shook her head. His relief was so intense the blood rushed away from his head and he felt dizzy, but he smoothed her hair back from her face and spoke casually. "Then we have nothing to worry about."

"I told him I could," she said, her voice muffled against his chest.

Navarre lifted her carefully away from him as he fought the anger welling up inside of him.

"Don't look at me like that," Kendra said sharply. "You always make me feel as though you're about to pounce on me and devour me. If you want to yell, then yell, but don't glare."

"Indeed, you need not 'yelling' but a sound thrashing," he shouted into her face. "Why in the name of-" he broke off his tirade and stared at her for a long moment, then slowly nodded his head. "Aye, I understand now why he let me live at all. You have promised him much power and your body."

"You were seriously hurt!" she said, jerking out of his grasp, her blue eyes dancing with fury. "I didn't know if you would even live, much less be in any shape to defend yourself. He started talking about hanging you, but promised he would let you live if I told him about time travel."

"And you offered to share his bed as well."

"That was his idea, not mine."

Navarre shifted away from her, his heart aching more sharply than the wound in his back at the thought of her being subjected to what Garrick called lovemaking. She had done it to save him and now he was virtually helpless to rescue her. Garrick would treat her as he had the women in Outremer, then he would kill her. Rage filled Navarre and he longed to lash out with his fists, yet he was as weak as a babe, and about as useful.

Keys rattled in the door to their prison and Navarre recognized the sound of Garrick's laughter echoing down the hall. Kendra shrank back against him as the door swung open and a man was shoved through. He hit the floor with a thud and Kendra cried out. It was Locksley, his aristocratic face battered almost beyond recognition. Kendra jumped to her feet and ran to the outlaw, kneeling beside him, lifting his head gently into her lap.

"Robin, can you hear me?" Kendra asked softly. Locksley didn't reply. Her only answer was the sound of his raspy breathing. She glared over at Garrick where he stood leaning inside the cell door. Wearing a hauberk of mail over a leather gambeson, he held a thin but lethal dagger, covered with blood. He sauntered inside, sliding the dagger back into the scabbard at his waist, then began stripping the leather gauntlets from his hands, his gaze fixed on Kendra's slim form.

"How dare you treat him this way?" she cried. "How dare you! What can he tell you that you don't already know? What information must you torture from him?"

Navarre marveled, not for the first time, at the woman's courage-at least when defending someone, she cared for, like Locksley. He pushed away the fleeting stab of jealousy as she clucked over the outlaw, wiping his face with the hem of her tattered gown. Kendra loved him, not Robin Hood, of that he had no doubt. Now, if only Locksley would revive, perhaps the two of them could rush Garrick. There must be some men left in Nottingham Castle loyal to their captain. With those, and Robin's men, it might be possible at least to escape.

"Your time has not yet come," Garrick said to Kendra, his thin lips harsh in the dim torchlight. "I am here to speak with my old friend, Navarre. However, it is possible to change my mind and partake of your sweetness now if you so desire." Kendra stared up at him, trying bravely to hide the terror on her face. Garrick laughed. "No? Then hold your tongue, woman."

His gray gaze flitted over to Navarre, lighting on him as casually as though he were an old hound whose paw had been injured. Steeling himself not to groan, Navarre pulled his feet under him, and using the wall for support, stood. He was rewarded by the look of surprise that sprang into the sheriffs eyes, along with a certain wariness.

"Good evening, old friend," Navarre said, biting off the words and pushing himself away from the wall. "'Or is it morn, for you see it is difficult to tell in this hellhole."

Garrick laughed, the sound more chilling than the stone upon which Navarre had leaned. "You did not think it hellish when you were the one flinging the outlaws into its belly."

"And what law have I broken, Garrick, that I should be flung here to rot?"

One tawny brow lifted as Garrick gazed back at him complacently. "Why, Sir Knight, I have heard a dreadful rumor that you seek to kill our king and place another on the throne." He shook his finger, making a disparaging sound. "I confess I am shocked that a man whom I have treated as a brother should be filled with such treachery."

"Aye," Navarre said, his voice like iron, "I too, am shocked."

"Are you really?" Garrick dropped the feigned civility and smiled wickedly, crossing the room to Kendra's side. Leaning down he grabbed her by the arm, hoisting her to her feet, leaving Robin's limp body to roll to one side. The sheriff pulled her against him and she stood stiffly in his arms.

"I fear I have only just begun to astound you." He turned Kendra's face to his and kissed her, his mouth closing over hers in a cruel gesture that sent Navarre two steps forward before she jerked away and cried out.

"Navarre, no!"

Navarre pressed down his rage and tried to think rationally. He was too weak to overcome the sheriff. Attacking him now would only result in his own death and leave Kendra completely without protection. He must remain calm.

"You will not fight for her? A pity, but then perhaps the wench is not as important to you as I had supposed." the sheriff said. "I did wonder if you loved her as much as that wretched infidel in Acre." With one hard shove he pushed Kendra away from him. She sprawled at Navarre's feet but he could not look at her. His gaze was frozen on the baleful grin of the man he had once called friend.

"I had the devil of a time convincing Richard the woman was dangerous," Garrick said as Navarre stared at him in stunned silence. "He scoffed at me, you know. Said it was your life and if you wanted to bed the wench or marry her it mattered not to him. He was quite uncooperative about the matter."

"You told me he would take my knighthood from me if I married her," Navarre said, closing his eyes against the rush of memories. "You said he would cast me from him."

"Aye, I told you that, and more," Garrick said with a laugh. "I needed you, old friend, to fight with me against Richard. You loved him as though he were your bastard father-as though he were truly worthy of your adoration. I was your first friend, your brother, of a sort, and yet, once he befriended you, you preferred his company. And then the woman. Your fawning attention to her disgusted me and soon it was as though I did not exist."

"That isn't true," Navarre said, frowning with confusion. "I have always been your friend. We never had a cross word between us until Outremer, and then only because I saw a cruelty in you I had never seen before."

"Cruel? I?" He gestured to himself in feigned abhorrence. "Oh, you speak of the whores on which I eased myself." He shrugged, sliding his hand down to cup Kendra's bottom, smiling as she glared up at him defiantly, her fists clenched.

"They were not whores but innocent women who had been abducted by drunken soldiers." Navarre began walking slowly across the room toward the sheriff. "It was the first time I had ever seen you act in such a way."

"I did nothing more to them than likely had been done before," he said, the smile fading from his full lips.

"You left them bleeding, babbling incoherently," Navarre said softly.

"You will not speak of this!" Garrick pulled the dagger from its scabbard, his eyes glittering dangerously. '"It is I who have the story to tell, Navarre, not you, and so I bid you to listen and learn. When you were injured during the battle for Acre, I saw my perfect opportunity. I would not only rid myself of another who sought your time, your affections, but I would plant the seeds which would blossom into the ripe fruit of bitter revenge."

"You ramble, Garrick," Navarre said smoothly, taking a tentative step toward him, "like an old woman who has lost her senses."

"I killed your precious Talam, not Richard!" Garrick said triumphantly. "When he ordered the death of the citizens of Acre I saw my chance. First I tasted her. She was quite delectable, her skin all browns and creams."

He paused, his gaze raking over Navarre's face. The knight felt as though the breath had been knocked from him, as though a hard fist had been thrust into his belly. He could not disguise his hollow-eyed disbelief, and Garrick laughed in satisfaction at his obvious distress.

"I can see why you wanted to bed her," he went on. "I dragged her out of your tent and took her inside the walls of Acre, where I shoved her into the frenzy. The soldiers inside knew her not and she was quickly cut down with the others."

"Why?" Navarre said, hardly able to choke out the single word.

"Because I needed you. I came to you on Crete where you were recovering and told you my story of Richard's cruelty. You were quite easily manipulated, and in my brave Navarre I found the perfect foil to help me with my plan. Oh, I had to throw in some noble words and lies concerning what our goals for England were, 'tis true, but now, all of that is at an end."

Navarre felt the blood leave his face again, his fists clenched so tightly at his side his nails drew blood.

"Damn you," Navarre said quietly, pushing down the trembling deep inside of him, the rage threatening to break free. How could Garrick have kept this evil side from him so completely? As boys they had laughed and played together, as men they had fought at one another's side, saving each other's lives more times than they could count. It wasn't until Outremer that Navarre realized his friend's cool demeanor might hide something darker beneath, and then only because of his ruthless using of the women there. But this betrayal-he never would have dreamed it possible.

"Damn you to hell," he whispered.

"Navarre..." Kendra said in warning. She rose to stand beside him, laying one small hand upon his arm.