Garrick resheathed the dagger, his eyes guileless and wide as they raked over her once again even as he addressed Navarre. "Oh, and that isn't all, old friend. The barons are mine-oh yes, I met with them whilst you were bedding her in the forest -and they have agreed to place someone more worthy than Richard upon the throne."

"You've convinced them to crown Eleanor?"

"They do not care for the king's mother, she is much too willful and after all, is a woman. No, I convinced them otherwise." His thin lips drew back in a gleeful smile.

"Not John?"

"Nay, Lackland shall be dealt the same fate as his brother. 'Tis another, nobler fellow I am thinking of."

Navarre blinked in disbelief as Garrick's meaning struck home. "You? That is impossible. The barons would never agree to place a bastard on the throne of England."

Garrick lifted one blond brow. "If that bastard promised them land and titles, I daresay they would. Besides, you forget William the Bastard, the mighty conqueror who was our hero when we as boys were despised by others?" He leaned toward Navarre. "I knew then that my illegitimacy would not prevent me from achieving my destiny. If Duke William could rule England, then why not I?"

"William was a wise man, interested in bringing unity to England." Navarre gave him an appraising look. "What do you bring to England, Garrick?"

"The question is, what does England bring to me?" He threw his head back and laughed, loud and long. "And my ambition does not begin and end with England," Garrick continued. "With the help of this young woman's amazing ability to travel through time-if indeed, her tale be true-I shall gather weapons that will assure me not only of holding England, but of expanding her provinces to include, shall we say, the world?"

"You are mad," Kendra said.

"Am I?" Garrick shrugged. "Perhaps. Oh, yes, I need the weapon you brought with you, the-what did you call it, Navarre? The gun. Where is it, in your chamber?" Navarre remained silent and the sheriff smiled again. "Do not concern yourself, my friend, I shall find it."

Crossing the short distance between them, he took Kendra's hand, raising it to his lips. She shrank back as at the last moment he turned her hand over and drew his tongue down the center of her palm.

"Milady. I bid you adieu until this evening."

"I will kill you, Garrick," Navarre promised as Kendra's free hand dug into his arm. warning him not to react even as she shuddered inwardly at the man's touch. "If you try to take her from me I swear I will kill you with my bare hands."

"Ever the gallant hero, eh, Navarre?" He grinned at the knight. "But do not fret, for you see, the plans I have for Kendra include you as well. We shall share the lovely lady. Will that not be an evening fit for a king?" Snickering he released Kendra's hand at last. "Until tonight." He turned and swept out of the cell, leaving Navarre standing rigidly in the center.

He was helpless. Helpless to stop Garrick from hurting Kendra, just as he'd been helpless to prevent him from killing Talam. The fire inside of him, the rage, burned like an inferno, like a volcano about to erupt. He would go mad, go mad and beat his brains out against the wall.

"Navarre, I'm here. I'm here for you." Kendra's soft words swept suddenly like a soothing balm across the ragged wound Garrick had just carved into his soul, and with a groan he turned to her. Her azure eyes met his, filled with love and understanding as she opened her arms to him.

He entered that circle of comfort and felt the raging fire ebb. Burying his face in the warmth of her hair he let her hold him and he shook. He did not cry. He could not utter a sound. He simply stood there shaking, while Kendra's face pressed against his, her tears offered up in place of those he could not yield.

Chapter Twelve.

Kendra looked up to see Robin Hood staring down at them, his face almost unrecognizable beneath the blood and bruises. He knelt beside them, his blue eyes serious as he swept Kendra and Navarre with an evaluating look. Navarre had slept for a time after his exhausting experience, and now sat looking vacantly into space. Kendra saw his hollow eyes quicken, however, as the outlaw stood over him.

"It is time we joined forces," Robin said haltingly, through swollen lips. "It is the only chance we have to escape the sheriff's wrath."

"Agreed," Navarre said, pushing himself to a more erect sitting position. Robin's hand came down on his shoulder, halting his movement, and the knight winced then glanced up at him warily. "Save your strength, old friend," Robin said. "You shall need it 'ere this battle is won." Robin sank to the floor and groaned aloud, then tossed the other man a grim smile. "As I shall need mine own strength. 'Gad, I feel as though all of my skin has been slowly peeled from my back."

"I'll bathe it for you," Kendra offered, starting to rise. Robin stopped her with a hand on her arm.

"It can wait."

"What is your plan, Locksley?" Navarre asked in a weak voice. Kendra looked up at him anxiously, the paleness of his face frightening her.

"Plan?" Some of the old humor returned to the outlaw's eyes at the subtle byplay between the two. " 'Twas my hope that you, Navarre, brilliant soldier that you are, would have one."

"How many men are in this cell?" Navarre asked abruptly.

"There are twelve in here, counting myself. The others have been taken to other cells."

"Did any of your men escape?"

"Little John, Alan-a-Dale, and Magda escaped along with about ten of my men. Marian was taken by Garrick and is once again ensconced in the castle, unharmed. At least, that is the information I gleaned from the guards' conversation when they thought I was unconscious."

"Then it's possible your men could rescue us." Kendra's imagination kicked into high gear. "They could storm the castle, defeat the guards-"

"Not bloody likely," Robin interrupted dryly. "Little John could never take the castle with the few men left-as if we ever could."

"But you sneaked in here before, when you helped me and Marian escape," Kendra reminded him.

"Aye. We had a friend on the inside, and it is possible Little John may try it again, though I hope he will not. The guards have no doubt been doubled at the gates and everyone will be on the alert. Am I correct, monsieur constable?"

Navarre nodded, the gesture filled with exhaustion. Kendra laid her hand upon his arm and squeezed it, alarmed at the defeat she saw written on his face.

"There would be no chance at all of someone sneaking into the castle this night," Navarre said. "Our only chance as I see it is to overpower Garrick when he returns to the cell, hold him hostage, and force the guards to release us."

"A risky gambit at best," Robin murmured, stroking his short goatee thoughtfully, then looked up as the sound of a woman's voice echoed through the cell.

"I do not care what your orders are, I have brought food for the prisoners. In the name of King Richard I command you to open the door!"

Kendra rose at the sound of Marian's voice, hope springing up inside of her. She'd not seen the woman since longbow lesson in Sherwood and was relieved that Garrick had apparently not harmed her.

"Marian!" Kendra rushed to the door as the heavy wooden structure was pushed open a crack and Richard's ward slipped inside the cell, her heart-shaped face wreathed with concern, a bulky bag knit in both hands. The two women stared at each other for a moment, then fell into one another's arms.

"Are you all right?" Kendra whispered, breaking the embrace, then cupping Marian's face between her hands. She searched the young woman's pale blue eyes fearfully. "Did Garrick or John hurt you, Marian? Please, tell me the truth."

Marian shook her head, glancing at Robin and an unsteady Navarre as they silently approached the women. "Nay," she said. "John and I have talked." Her voice was hesitant, her eyes shifting first to Navarre and then to Robin. "I think I have planted some doubts in his mind about the sheriff and his goals."

"You must have 'talked' most convincingly," Navarre said harshly, "to gain entrance here. You are but a child, Marian-I will not have you playing the whore, even if it means my life!"

"Be silent," Robin commanded, his blue eyes suddenly dark with anger. Navarre closed his mouth abruptly. "Your lack of understanding. Sir Knight, where women are concerned is quite surprising." Robin took Marian's hand and bowed over it, his lips gently grazing her white skin before he straightened. "Lady Marian is not a child, but a beautiful young woman who would never play the whore for any man, do I speak truly, Marian?"

Marian looked up at the bruised Robin, mouth open, then cried out. "Robin, your face! What has that madman done to your beautiful face?" She lifted her hand to touch the deep gash running down the side of his jaw and he caught her fingers in his.

"I would not have you soil yourself with my blood," he said softly.

"Nonsense. Kendra, is there water?"

Kendra pointed to the water bucket and the young woman hurried over, wetting the cloth Kendra handed her, then hurrying back to Robin's side. She pulled him away from the other two, clucking over him like an irate hen, then ordered him to sit on the floor. She knelt beside him to tenderly cleanse his battered face. When she accidentally touched his back and he winced, she made him strip off his shirt. Kendra watched with admiration as Marian didn't blink an eye at the mass of welts and cuts, but simply began to cleanse them.

" 'Twould seem my little Marian has grown up," Navarre said to Kendra, his voice low and filled with amazement.

Kendra shook her hair back from her shoulders in exasperation. "It's about time you realized that. You know she's in love with you, don't you?"

Navarre lifted one dark brow, nodding toward Marian. She sat smiling adoringly at the outlaw. He gazed back at her, his eyes warm with feeling.

"With me, my love?" He inclined his head toward Robin. "I think not."

"Well, maybe you were just her first crush."

"Crush?" He shook his head, capturing her hand and bringing it to his lips. "You do speak most strangely, wench from the future."

"Aye," she said, moving to rub her cheek against his, uncaring about the stubble that bit into her skin. She turned his face to hers and kissed him deeply, feeling the sudden, desperate need to reclaim his love. He returned her passion, then slowly slid to the floor, his back against the wall, taking her with him. He broke the embrace and gazed deeply into her eyes, the hollowness in his own gone.

"I'm all right," he said softly. Kendra sighed and wrapped her arm around his waist, nestling against his side as he kept talking. His next words startled her. "You heard what Magda said about your return to your own time." It was a statement, not a question, and Kendra looked up into the intensity of his gaze. "The matter will not go away by ignoring it."

"Won't it?" Kendra asked, lowering her eyes to a torn place in his tunic where a few curling black chest hairs nested.

"Nay." Navarre lifted her chin with one finger, bringing her eyes level with his once again. "Kendra, do you wish to return to your own lime?"

Her own time. Kendra stared at him, her mouth open. Civilization. Hot and cold running water, toilets, supermarkets, automobiles, clean clothes, air-conditioning, central heat. Hamburgers and french fries and a big chocolate malt. All the amenities of the life she'd left behind came rushing forward in her mind. Mac. Dear, dear Mac. The Chronicle and her career as a top-notch journalist.

"I... I don't know," she said, her fingers twisting in the front of his tunic. His chest rose and fell laboriously beneath the tattered cloth and impulsively she leaned down, her lips touching the smooth skin displayed under the torn material. His flesh was warm, alive. Navarre. Go home? Leave Navarre? Tears burned against her eyelids at the very thought.

She couldn't leave him, no matter what comforts she had to do without. She loved him, and she couldn't bear to lose someone else she loved. And yet, stay here? Put aside the fact most women didn't live past thirty-five and that the man she loved was an outlaw. Her biggest fear was that if she remained in the past, she would change history. The thought had plagued her more and more since Magda's pronouncement by the fire.

What if she couldn't find her way back? What would it mean to history if she stayed? Even if she were very careful, never rocked the boat politically, lived in isolation, her very presence in 1194 would change something about history- wouldn't it? Or was her life insignificant enough to not matter? But wasn't she even now changing history? Yes, she had accidentally brought the gun back and that was already changing the way things were going. If Garrick figured out how to use the weapon and discovered how to travel through time, who knew what the final result would be. She lifted her face from his chest to find Navarre's golden eyes dark with despair.

"Kendra," he whispered, "you must not go. Stay here with me. I will build a life for us, somehow, some way."

She stared at him, dazed, as his hands caressed the length of her hair. "I want to," she said, the words sounding dead to her own ears, "but I can't, Navarre. I can't."

Navarre lifted both hands to cup her face, bringing her lips almost angrily to his. He kissed her thoroughly, fiercely, then released her, his brows colliding like two thunderclouds above stormy eyes.

"You will not leave me," he said.

"Navarre," she whispered, even as his lips moved to caress her neck and coherent thought faltered, "I-I can't stay here. If I do, I'll be changing history. What if-what if we had a child together?" He raised his face from her neck and Kendra wished she'd thought of some other example. His eyes were soft and glowing, his lips curved up in a smile.

"Think you that is likely?"

Kendra blushed and shrugged, looking away from his intense gaze. "Who knows? I'm a healthy woman, why not? But that's not the point. If we have a child, then that's bringing another person into existence back in this time who didn't live before. That starts an entirely new generation of de Galliards that would never otherwise have existed."

"Perhaps I would have had children anyway," he said. "That proves nothing."

"Look at how much damage my being here has done already. If it wasn't for my bringing the gun back, you might have given up on this stupid plot against Richard."

Navarre shook his head. "Nay, it would have changed nothing."

"All right," Kendra conceded, "but if you or someone else uses the gun and succeeds in killing Richard, then it will change history and it will be my fault."

"This has naught to do with whether you stay or go."

"Yes it does, it-" she broke off as a new thought came to her. "You could come back with me," she ventured, knowing even as she said the words it would never work. Navarre in the twentieth century? Navarre with his wonderful code of honor and fierce dedication to justice? The modern world would swallow him whole.

"Nay," he said, echoing her silent thoughts. "This is my world. This is where I belong. If there were no danger of altering history, would you stay?"

Kendra felt suddenly panicky as his golden eyes bored into hers. "I don't know. Navarre, I don't know if I belong here."

"You belong with me," he said, his voice husky with feeling. "You belong in my arms."

"I know," she whispered, wrapping her arms around his neck and leaning her head against his shoulder. "Maybe I won't even be able to leave. We really don't know if there's any way for me to return to my own time."

"But if you can?"

Kendra opened her mouth to speak, to say she would never leave him, but could not The lines around his lips tightened and he nodded, then let his head fall back against the wall, his eyes sliding shut.

"Lady Marian!"

A guard's dirty face peered through the small window of the cell door, his nose pressed between the bars.

"You must leave the prisoners, milady," he said gruffly, "or else the sheriff will have my head."

"One moment."

Marian rose from Robin's side and crossed to Kendra, a cloth-wrapped bundle in her hands. She shoved it at Kendra, her pale blue eyes wide and frightened. "Friar Tuck says prayers for your souls," she whispered.

"Lady Marian! Leave the prisoners now or I shall be forced to come in after you."

Marian rose quickly and gave Robin one last, anguished look. "Robin, I-"

"Yes, Marian?"

She bit her lower lip then drew a harried breath. "'I shall pray for you."

Navarre chuckled as she turned and practically flew across the room to the door.

"She's still a shy little girl if you ask me," Navarre said.

"Shy, yes," Robin agreed. "But no little girl."

Kendra moved away from the two men who commenced to argue. She tore the bread Marian had brought them into pieces, distributing it to the other prisoners, then bringing the remainder back to Navarre and Robin. They devoured their small portions then settled down against the wall to plot how they would take Garrick the next time he came into the cell.

Kendra turned away, unable to choke down her own piece of bread. Her stomach ached with hunger, another ache to add to the growing list which included shivering cold and agonizing despair. Idly she watched a tiny spider near her head spinning its web from one protruding stone to another. It reminded her of an old story she'd heard once about Robert the Bruce, a hero of Scotland. He'd been defeated by the British three times and had gone into a cave to brood and think. There he'd watched a spider fail three times to form its web, yet succeed on the fourth time. Deeming it a sign from God, he'd returned to the battle and on his fourth try, won the day.

Kendra watched the little spider intently, praying silently for some miraculous idea, some symbolism to strike her as it laboriously spun its thin silk and created its tiny work of art. But there were no answers in its web, though she watched until her eyes ached and the little creature scurried away into a crack. Perhaps there were no answers at all. Navarre wanted an answer from her. If she could go back to her own time, would she? She leaned against the cold stone, hugging her arms about herself. The answer didn't matter. The questions didn't matter. Garrick would not honor his agreement with her. He would kill Navarre and as soon as he tired of torturing her, she would die too.

Why? She squeezed her eyes shut. Why had she come across time and space to find her one true love if this was to be their end?