To her astonishment Kendra found herself blushing with shame. When she'd stood before Navarre naked, at his bidding, she'd felt no shame, but Garrick's violence, which was in no way her fault, made her feel ashamed. Tears burned against her eyelids and one slid, unbidden, down her cheek as she tried to pull the edges of her tattered gown together. Navarre bent down on one knee and stopped her, one hand covering hers.

"Did he hurt you?" he asked, lifting her chin gently. "I mean-besides your face." She looked up at him, unable to hide the pain in her eyes. "Did he... damn you to hell, Garrick," Navarre said, stumbling to his feet.

Garrick had shut the door to the outer hall and now stood, arms folded across his chest in front of the fireplace. Navarre stopped a few feet from him and drew his sword from its sheath. The hushed sound of metal against metal echoed through the stillness of the room, and Kendra held her breath. The last thing she expected was for Garrick to throw his blond head back, sending a peal of laughter to follow the sound of steel.

"Do you draw your sword against me, old friend? Over a wench?"

"What did you do to her?" Navarre demanded, taking a menacing step toward the sheriff.

"What does it matter to you what I did to her?" His lips were still twisted in amusement, but his eyes burned like pale charcoal.

"If you have used her as you used the women in Outremer-"

"What will you do?" Garrick crossed the room to where two swords were mounted, crossed, on the wall. He jerked one of them down and the other fell to the floor with a loud crash. "Will you fight me?" he said, spinning back to face the knight, the sword slashing the air between them. "Will you kill me? All for the sake of this woman? Does our time together then indeed mean little to you, our quest become as nothing? What has happened to you, Navarre? Has this whore bewitched you?"

Kendra saw Navarre's face grow pale and knew she was lost. He lowered his sword, then flung it to one side, the crashing sound shattering what little hope she had left.

"Nay, I will not fight you," Navarre said, his voice somber. He shot Kendra a look that chilled her to the soul, then glanced back at the sheriff. "Come with me, friend. There is much I have not told you concerning this woman."

Kendra cried from relief and didn't seem to be able to stop. She buried her face in the pillows on top of Garrick's luxurious bed and let the tears come. At last, when it seemed the last moisture had been wrenched from her body, she sat up and wiped her face on the edge of a silken coverlet, taking great pleasure in blowing her nose on the expensive material. Composing herself, she tried the door several times only to find it had been locked from the outside after the two men had stalked into the hallway.

Exhausted, Kendra buried her face again in a large, soft pillow, realizing her tears were not just a result of the harrowing experience she'd just had, nor were they solely because she was trapped in time with an uncertain future. She had wept because Navarre had turned his back on her.

She realized that she had painted the dark knight into the hero's role, and he was anything but a hero. In the bathhouse she had thought for a while that perhaps Navarre was truly beginning to care for her. Then he had failed to protect her from Garrick, knowing full well how much the sheriff lusted after her. When Navarre had seen her bruised face she had known he would not leave her, that he would rescue her. In fact, she had feared he might kill the sheriff and be imprisoned himself. Instead, he had tossed aside his sword and betrayed her.

"Dear God," she whispered into the darkness of the pillow, "please help me."

"I will help you."

Kendra flung herself over at the sound of the soft voice and sat up. The Lady Marian stood at the end of the bed, and at the sight of Kendra's bruised face her own gentle features twisted, first in astonishment, then in outrage.

"Who has done this to you?" the girl asked.

Kendra brushed the moisture from her cheeks and tried to still the tremble in her voice. "The sheriff," she whispered.

"And Navarre did not stop him?" she demanded.

"He started to, but..." her voice trailed away. "He thinks I am a witch and now he has gone to tell Garrick how I appeared magically at Avebury and bewitched him." She laughed, a little hysterically. "What's funny is that Navarre doesn't even know the truth of how I came to be at Avebury, and even if I tried to tell him, he wouldn't listen."

Marian moved to her side and with a very maternal air for one so young, smoothed Kendra's tangled hair back from her tear-stained face. "I have been sent to escort you, along with the guards, of course, to the tower." Her pale blue eyes bored into Kendra's. "Once we are there, I promise you, Kendra O'Brien, no one else will harm you, and I will listen."

With great care Marian helped a muscle-sore Kendra change into fresh clothing before leading her into the wide corridor past the guards, who fell into step behind them. As she walked down the great hallway behind the thin young woman, Kendra felt at least some of her strength returning. She was still alive, she told herself, trying to bolster her own spirits, and had not been subjected to the trauma of rape, nor to great physical harm. She had tossed aside the last vestiges of belief in Navarre de Galliard. The last item in itself was a great accomplishment.

Of course, Navarre was no doubt at this moment telling the sheriff of her witchery where he was concerned, and no doubt the good sheriff-angry at her rejection of his attentions-would sentence her to be burned. She had to escape, and the thought sent a fresh wave of panic coursing through her. Her only chance of escape Jay with this teenaged girl, who didn't have the gumption to say boo to a mouse. Or did she?

"In order to reach the tower," Marian explained as they walked, "we must walk outside the castle itself. The steps spiral up the sides of the turret and guards are posted at the bottom. It is impossible to escape from the tower," she added.

Without help, Kendra thought, but she nodded outwardly and gave Marian what she hoped passed for a submissive look of defeat.

Walking out of the castle and through the muddy streets of Nottingham was an experience in itself and once again the sensation of unreality, of being trapped in an unending nightmare, coursed through Kendra's innermost being. People were everywhere, dirty people who stared at the two women and their enclave of armored men crossing through the outer realm of the castle. As they passed through the outer gate, Kendra felt a sudden urge to run, to lift her long skirt and take her chances, putting as much distance between herself and this crazy castle as she could.

"Do not even think about it," Marian said softly, close to her ear. "The guards would cut you down without a second's thought." Kendra stared at her, open-mouthed. The girl smiled. "I could see the idea forming in your eyes. Come."

Kendra followed her meekly, realizing there was much more to Marian FitzWalter than met the eye. When they reached the base of the tower, however, she almost turned and ran anyway, in spite of Marian's words of caution.

"I'm supposed to go up there? On those stairs? With no railing or anything?"

"It is safe," Marian said. "Just stay close to me."

Kendra didn't remember much of their ascent. She ended up keeping her eyes closed and clinging pathetically to Marian's hand as she half-slid, half-crept up the narrow stairway that led to her new prison.

Once inside she was able to relax. The room was small but comfortable. A fire burned warmly in a curved niche of a fireplace in one wall while a bed piled high with coverlets and pillows occupied the major portion of the room. A woven carpet covered the stone floor.

"This is a prison?" Kendra asked, feeling confused. "But the dungeon-"

"The dungeon is for thieves, murderers, common criminals. The tower is reserved for special prisoners. I believe John himself was locked up here by King Richard for a time."

"Good grief," Kendra said beneath her breath. "His own brother."

"The Plantagenets have a very curious idea of what a family should be," Marian said as she walked around the room lighting thin tapers in metal sconces situated every two feet around the wall. The guards had waited on the stairs for lack of room. "They have spent most of their lives stabbing one another in the back, trying to steal what is not theirs or protect what is."

"How do you fit into this mess?" Kendra asked, sinking down on the bed, suddenly weary.

"Me?" Marian turned to face her, her pale face drawn, strained. "I am no one and nothing. I am a distant cousin of Richard's, taken in out of his kindness when my parents were killed. I was but six years old. Their lands and estates, of course, became Richard's, but I was much older before I realized my cousin's concern for me might not have been as great had I not had property. I try to remain as inconspicuous as possible."

Kendra felt a wave of pity wash over her. Poor little girl, to lose her parents and then be made to feel she had been taken in only out of charity and for her meager wealth.

"Surely King Richard cares for you. And I can tell that Navarre does."

A smile touched the girl's face as she blew out the lighted taper she held and crossed to the bed. "Navarre is the kindest man in all the world." She sank down beside Kendra. "He is the only one I truly consider my family, and he is not even my kin. He still treats me like a brainless child, but at least I know that he loves me."

"And Richard?"

"Oh, I suppose Richard cares in his own way. But you must understand, I am but a woman and what I think or feel means less than nothing to anyone."

"Except Navarre," Kendra prodded, anxious to hear her answer.

"Oh, perhaps. Even Navarre is, after all, still a man. If only he did not see me as such a child I might..." she flushed and turned away. "He is still the stubbornest man alive, I warrant, but he has been kind to me."

Kendra hadn't missed the flush nor the words that preceded Marian's embarrassment. Marian loved Navarre. Oh, brother. If the girl ever found out just how intimate Kendra had been with Marian's hero, she could forget about gaining her help.

"I'm sure you'll find a nice man," Kendra said carefully. "Won't King Richard find you a husband when the time is right?"

"A husband!" Marian stood and flounced across the room, folding her arms over her chest. "Richard is too busy to bother with me, and by the time he returns to England I may be too old to wed, or perhaps he will not return at all if Navarre and Garrick have their way."

"You know they are against Richard and yet, you still lo-like Navarre?" Kendra watched the subtle play of emotion across the young woman's face.

"I am no fool. However, I do not know exactly what Navarre is plotting. I cling to the belief that Navarre is remaining true to Richard in his own way. The sheriff, however, is another story. Why Navarre has thrown his lot in with such a man..." she shook her head. "I do not understand, and I have told Navarre if he will not confide in me I will no longer be able to believe in him." She sat back down with a sigh.

"What does he say to this?" Kendra asked.

She smiled sadly. "Navarre has an answer for everything. The last time we spoke he promised to speak to John about finding me a husband next year, but I am so ugly that I doubt he will find anyone willing unless they are old or after what dowry is provided for me."

"Ugly?" Kendra said. "You are not ugly, Marian. You just need someone to help you bring out your better qualities."

"Will you help me?" Marian said, pouncing on her statement with the eagerness of a child. "You are so beautiful and if you will share some of your secrets with me, I promise I will be your friend and help you in any way I can." She looked shyly down at her hands. "Oh, I know I cannot look like you, but perhaps you could tell me how to make my hair shine like yours-or is that some special spell that only works on you?"

Kendra's mouth dropped open and she laughed aloud. "Marian-I am not a witch. But I do know some special beauty tricks that will help you. All you need is the right makeup and shampoo and..." Kendra stopped in midsentence as the full import of Marian's words sank in. "What did you say, I mean, before. If I make you beautiful, did you say you would help me?"

"If you can make me beautiful," Marian said, her blue eyes serious, her lower lip trembling slightly, "I promise, Kendra O'Brien, I will do anything you ask."

A slow smile graced Kendra's face. "I'll hold you to that, Maid Marian." She narrowed her eyes as she lifted one long, greasy strand of hair. "I'll tell you what, let's start with a nice shampoo."

Chapter Eight.

Kendra's luck was improving. Marian managed to sneak into Navarre's room and find her satchel. She always took a bag full of "emergency" paraphernalia on her trips abroad and so it contained makeup, shampoo, lotion, perfume, and a dozen other items that would help her make Marian beautiful. She hadn't dared to ask the girl to look for the item she was really worried about, the gun. Marian watched in fascination as Kendra dumped the bag on the bed and the two cameras tumbled out, along with a jumble of bottles and tubes. The girl pounced on the Polaroid camera and held it up reverently.

"What is this wondrous thing? Is this what you will use to transform me?" she asked, breathless.

"No." Kendra took the camera from her and tucked it firmly back into her satchel and Marian promptly picked up her 35mm camera. "Marian, please, give it back. That was a present from my Uncle Mac and he's... he's gone now."

"Oh, I am sorry, Kendra. Is that what this writing says here?" She turned over the camera and displayed the small metal plate on the back. Kendra reached down and took the equipment from her, running one finger across the plate. She'd forgotten Mac put that on there. It read: To Kendra, a good reporter, All my love, Uncle Mac. He had given it to her the day after her first big story broke. A "good" reporter. That was high praise coming from Arthur Mackenzie. Her throat tightened convulsively.

"Yes, here, let's put this away and start making you beautiful, all right?" she said briskly.

Marian beamed at her question and nodded enthusiastically as Kendra tucked the camera away inside the satchel.

All she needed now was for someone to accidentally take a picture with her instant camera. No doubt she'd be accused of capturing their souls in the little gray box.

"Do you have some other wondrous machine inside your bag with which to transform me?"

Kendra sighed. Teenagers. They were the same in any century it seemed, prone to the dramatic and wild imaginations. "I am not a witch, Marian. I will transform you with the use of makeup, surely you've heard of makeup?"

Marian bit her lower lip. "Do you mean like the carmine salve some women rub on their cheeks, or when they take burnt wood and rub it above their eyes?"

"Sort of," Kendra said, forcing herself not to roll her eyes.

The transformation took longer than expected. First she had to talk Marian into going to the bathhouse for a good scrubbing. Marian had shuddered, but when Kendra produced a sweet-smelling bar of soap from her bag, and coconut scented shampoo, the girl grabbed both and almost ran down the steps of the tower to comply with Kendra's commands. When she returned, free of grime, her hair clean and shining, Kendra was struck by the pure beauty of the girl that had been hidden by layers of dirt.

Two hours later Kendra sat back from her work with a sigh. Triumphantly she handed the little mirror from her purse to Marian.

"All right," she said, "now you can look."

Marian rose from the stool where she had patiently bided her time while Kendra worked her magic, and took the mirror from the other woman's hand.

"'What manner of looking glass is this?" she asked in amazement, turning the mirror over in wonder. "I have never seen such a thing in all of my life. I-" Marian's mouth dropped open as she looked into the mirror and got her first real look at Kendra's handiwork. She lifted one hand to her face, her expression incredulous.

"What do you think?" Kendra asked softly.

Marian opened her mouth twice but no words emerged.

Kendra's smile widened. Marian's dirty brown hair had washed out to a lovely ash blonde, and now free from the heaviness of dirt and oil, the tresses had a natural curl. Marian's glorious mane waved in splendor down to her waist and the girl ran one hand through the soft curls as if to reassure herself they belonged to her.

Her pale eyes with their pale lashes were now enhanced by a subtle amount of mascara and eye shadow that brought attention to the beautiful blue of Marian's irises. A good liquid makeup base and faint rose blush at the cheekbones had taken away the girl's sallow complexion, while a softly natural rose lipstick completed the simple but lovely picture. The girl was a beauty, no doubt about it, and Kendra smiled with satisfaction as Marian sank down on the bed, a stunned look on her face.

"Truly you are a witch," she whispered.

"No," Kendra said, "I just know how to apply makeup. Lucky for you my kit comes with colors for autumns and summers. You can have that set of makeup. I'm an autumn so I don't need them."

Marian frowned. "Autumns? Summers? I do not understand." She raised the mirror again and gazed into it. "Will you teach me this sorcery so that I may perform it myself if you..." she hesitated then went on "... if you are not here?"

"You sat right here and watched everything I did, Marian. Did you hear me chant any spells or wave my magic wand?" Kendra said.

"You have a magic wand?" Marian asked in hushed wonder.

Kendra sighed and ran one hand through her hair. "No, I do not have a magic wand and that's my point. You are a beautiful young woman. I just cleaned you up so your natural beauty could shine through. That isn't magic, it's just know-how."

" 'Know-how'?" Marian tried the unfamiliar word aloud, then smiled. "Thank you, Kendra O'Brien. I care not if you are a witch or simply have this know-how. You have made me beautiful and I will be eternally grateful."

Kendra grinned back. "You should smile more, it really brightens your face. Oh, and stop wearing this mousy color of brown." She touched the edge of Marian's sleeve. "You're a summer and you should wear lots of pastels or clear reds and blues."

"Again with these strange words. I am a summer? How may I be a season of the year?" Marian frowned. "What is a pastel? You speak so oddly, Kendra O'Brien. From whence did you say you came?"

"I didn't. Do you know why? Because not one soul has bothered to ask me. Just because I happened to be in Avebury-"

"There-you have done it again. Why do you call Abury, Avebury? And why do you speak so strangely? Where is your home, Kendra O'Brien?"

"It's just Kendra, if you don't mind." She rose from her position in front of the girl and crossed the room to the one window. She leaned one elbow on the stone sill and gazed out into the night. "My home is very far away, across the ocean."

"In Normandy?" Marian asked in wonder. "Are you Norman, then? But you speak the Saxon tongue. Navarre taught me. Did he teach you also?"

"No, he didn't. And no, I am not Norman, I... oh what's the use?" Kendra turned away from the window in frustration. "You wouldn't believe me if I told you. No one would."

"I told you that if you would make me beautiful I would help you, that I would listen," Marian reminded her. "You have kept your part of the bargain, now please" -she reached out one hand toward Kendra-"I wish to keep mine."

Kendra stared at the young woman for a long moment. Making up her mind abruptly, she crossed to Marian, took her outstretched hand and sank down beside her.

"I must escape from the tower," Kendra said, squeezing the girl's hand she still held. "I can't tell you everything, but I am here to help England, and if I remain locked away here, England-and others-will be in great danger."

Marian squeezed Kendra's hand in return and leaned forward eagerly. "Are you speaking of Richard? Do you seek to help him?" When Kendra hesitated the girl rushed on. "You need not fear me, Kendra O'Brien. Although I love Navarre dearly and wish to believe that everything he does is for a good reason, I do not wish for Richard to be harmed. Since Navarre will not take me into his confidence and explain his reasoning, I have decided I must help Richard in whatever way I can."

Kendra smiled in relief, then sobered abruptly. "But how can you betray Navarre if you care for him so much?"