Over the Faery Hill - Jennifer L. Hart Page 0,95
“But we still ought to ask. It sucks to feel alone all the time, to know you don’t have any real friends to turn to when shit hits the fan.”
Darcy studied my face. “What’s gotten into you?”
“I promise, I will explain in all later. Over wine.” I climbed behind the wheel and headed out to Firefly Lane.
The car bounced and bumped along the road the same way as it had every time I’d visited. I stopped well before the slope of the hill, engaged the parking brake, and headed up the rest of the way on foot. My heartbeat hammered against my chest as I made the ascent, not sure what to hope for.
The tree stood there, but it was only a tree. No magic house, no swirls of gold or purple, or anything remotely magical.
I walked around it, letting my fingers trail over and over the solid trunk. Questions filled my mind. What had happened to Robin? Had he made peace with his mother? And more importantly, had he ever really existed at all?
In the bright light of a winter afternoon, it was easier to imagine that it had all been a chaotic and involved dream. I mean magic hairbrushes and trips through time didn’t happen to women like me.
Yet I felt different. Changed.
Whether Robin Goodfellow was real or imagined, he’d come into my life at the absolute lowest point. He’d given me confidence and helped me find my path. Whatever his intentions had been, if he was some figment that had represented all the men who had ever let me down, at the end of the day he’d helped me. He’d been kind to me, flirted with me, and helped me figure out who I wanted to be when I grew up. He’d shown me what truly mattered.
“Thank you for everything,” I touched the tree and pictured his sapphire eyes and luscious lips.
“Oh, you’re very welcome, lamb.” A familiar male voice said from behind me. “And don’t forget, I will be collecting that debt.”
I whirled around, my heart pounding against my ribs. There he stood. Back in the same denim and flannel outfit, he’d worn the first time I’d seen him. Devastatingly handsome with the mischievous gleam in his eyes.
“Robin!” I threw myself at him and held him tight. “I was so worried about you.”
His tone was flat. “Somehow, I find that hard to believe.”
After an awkward moment, I realized that he wasn’t hugging me back.
“What’s wrong?” I stepped away, chilled by more than the wind cutting through my coat. “Are you upset with me?”
“Upset? Why would I be upset?”
Was that a trick question. “Um, because I weaseled out of our bargain?”
“I’m actually very proud of you. But like you said, we were never friends. You tricked me and found a loophole to nullify not just Clara’s bargain, but every other one I’ve made for more than two and a half centuries. It’s sort of difficult for me to stay on the mortal plane when my anchor hadn’t been born.” His voice rose in volume until the final words echoed off the mountains.
I lifted my chin. “If you expect me to apologize—”
That wicked gleam appeared in his eyes. “Of course not. What I expect is for you to uphold your end of the bargain. To be my anchor and to do me a favor.”
My teeth sank into my lower lip. “You figured something else out that you wanted from me then?”
He moved closer, his step an odd combination of seduction and menace. “Lamb, I have had two hundred and fifty years to consider the possibilities. I have literally had nothing but time and when my own echo self from 1769 caught up and I realized what you had done, well, let’s just say I am beyond ready to cash in a favor.”
I swallowed. That didn’t sound promising at all. “So, what exactly does this favor entail? Enslavement? Torture?”
“Of the most acute kind.” His lips turned up and my heart flipped over in my chest. “Because in one month’s time, Joey Whitmore, you will become my wife.”
He vanished without another word.
My jaw dropped. His wife? Was he nuts? He was a fae prince!
And I was…well, I was pretty frigging awesome. I was a time-traveling faery godmother. And if I didn’t want to marry Robin Goodfellow, then I wouldn’t. He could just pick another favor or go kick rocks. Ever hear of free will buddy? The sensible shrew snarked.
My feet took me back to the car. There was a spring in my step and a smile on my face. Robin was all right. Pissy, sure, but hale and healthy. And I was relieved. Even excited because he would be back in a month. Sounds like a date to me.
I was back to competing in life. The judges were ornery and biased. All I had to lean on was myself.
And whatever the personal cost, I was prepared to stick the landing.
The End
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Jennifer L. Hart
About the Author
USA Today bestselling author Jennifer L. Hart writes about characters that cuss, get naked and often make poor, but hilarious, life choices. Her works to date include The Misadventures of the Laundry Hag series, the Damaged Goods mysteries and the Sleuthing series.
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