Mojitos with Merry Men by Marianne Mancusi Page A

Obviously she must have been talking about Robin Hood. But do I really want to go there? Reveal my feminine side and start a relationship with a guy who lived and died hundreds of years before I was born? Sure, I could see Robin as a pretty hot boyfriend. But the whole scenario seems a bit shortsighted. Like, what—we fall in love, start doing the happily-ever-after thing, then King Richard shows up with the Grail, and I get my chance to go back to the 21st century? What then? Will I be forced to choose my love over my life? Give up everything I've worked so hard for in order to be with this other person? Uh, been there. Done that. And I don't much like the T-shirt I got from it.
    A noise behind me makes me turn around. Robin appears through the trees, his eyebrows lifting in surprise when he sees me sitting here. I probably should have picked another spot. Or maybe I subconsciously was hoping he'd show up.
    He says nothing and simply sits down beside me, close enough to touch were one of us to reach out our hand. The proximity does funny things to my insides. His scent, perhaps. A bit smoky from the fire and musky. You'd think someone who spent his entire lifetime camping in the woods would smell sweaty and gross. But he doesn't, for some reason. I almost wish he did. Would make it a bit easier.
    "'Tis a good spot for thinking deep thoughts, is it not?" he remarks quietly, staring out into the water.
    "Yeah."
    We both fall silent. But it's not the uncomfortable silence you get on a first date. In fact, it's nice in a way. Intimate. Danny was always talk, talk, talk. He couldn't stand the quiet parts of life.
    "Must be a bit unsettling for you to be here," Robin says after a while.
    I turn to look at him, surprised. "What do you mean?" There's no way he could know I'm not from 12th-century England, is there?
    "An outlaw's life, mayhap, was not one you thought you'd lead. Your abbey likely had warm beds and hot meals."
    Ah, he's talking about my supposed great escape from the church. "You got that right." Funny. He isn't far off the mark, though he's talking about some 12th-century cathedral, not 21st-century Jersey.
    "I understand more than perhaps you know. I grew up in a small castle, myself. I had many servants and loyal subjects and never had to lift a finger for anything. I thought 'twould be the only life I ever knew. I would inherit our small fiefdom when my father died and be a fair and kind ruler to my people. Those who worked hard would always have meat on the table under my rule. I would marry Maid Marian, King Richard's niece and my childhood playmate, and produce an heir. All very simple wishes, I thought."
    "But things obviously didn't work out that way."
    "Nay," he says, kicking at the ground with the toe of his boot. "King Richard launched the third Crusade, asking that all able-bodied men join him on his quest to seek the Holy Grail. My father loved King Richard so. And for him to provide his king with his only son—well, he was only too happy to do it."
    "And it all went to pot from there I take it."
    "I am loyal to my king," Robin says with a shrug. "And we should not question the decisions he makes. But to abandon his country, to fight in a foreign land for some religious cause and leave his own people unprotected from his evil blood relative—well, that seems an unwise decision to me."
    "Yeah, pretty dumb. He should have at least left some sort of force behind. Like the Knights of Homeland Security or something."
    "So you see, Christian, this forest existence is not the life I hoped to lead. Or one I could ever be truly content with. I was born to lead knights, not a band of ragamuffins. I was born to sit on a throne, not a stump of wood." He fidgets, trying to get comfortable. "At the same time, in many ways, this forest life agrees with me. It's simple. Honest. And I know, forsooth, my men are true. They would stand with me in the face of death, should I ask it. You do not often win such true