Stephanie Fowers loves bringing stories to life, and depending on her latest madcap ideas will do it through written word, song, and/ or film. She absolutely adores Bollywood and bonnet movies; i.e., Jane Austen. Presently, she lives in Salt Lake where she's living the life of the starving artist.
Who says Chivalry is dead?
Taken in by an Outlaw
Marian is a hard-hitting reporter … or would be if the New England Chronicle would stop assigning her puff pieces. Now she has the chance to prove herself, but it could prove her undoing—since the story of a lifetime might just be Robin King, a ruthless scoundrel, who she swore would never break her heart again.
Making New England Olde again
Together, they must overcome their differences to save their hometown from thieves and corruption. And they’d better do it before someone gets killed. As danger lurks closer, legend becomes life, and Robin’s feelings for Marian deepen as he struggles with sharing the secrets that could clear his name and ruin his sister."
Snippet:
“I’m no damsel in distress.”
She didn’t understand. He didn’t care what happened to him—he cared more about losing her. “Even if that means that you’re up here alone with me?” he teased. If anything, that would get her down.
Her lips curved up on the sides. “Oh, I can leave.”
Wait? What was he doing? This was what he wanted. “No, no, no.” The stars were bright, the view was gorgeous—she was more so—and they were alone. Maybe. He looked behind him. “Midge, if you’re up here, I’ll give you a hundred bucks.”
Nothing. “He’s not up here,” Marian said, smiling.
He laughed. “Good, I didn’t have a hundred.”
She hid her face from him, but he knew she was laughing when he saw her shoulders jerk. Nothing was better than getting her to smile.
Below them, the people from the town were like miniatures. They added straw to the pile on the wagon so that they would be included in the luck when the wheels burned their way down the mountain. The music below him took him back to when he was young, and if he let himself get lost in it, he’d go back even further into the past, maybe to a time when cloaked figures had protected the forest. She would be his Maid Marian, and he’d be her Robin Hood.
Of course, that would make him the hero, and he didn’t feel like that right now. He’d rubbed elbows with thieves and murderers and all sorts of rabble in prison, and he’d barely walked away from that. Marian didn’t know who he was. At all. How did he convince her that he could still be trusted, even if he couldn’t tell her everything?
“Close your eyes,” he said.
Would she trust him even to do that? After studying him with her big eyes, she obliged him and squeezed them shut, taking a deep breath. He didn’t touch her, only watched her as the soft breeze lifted her hair instead. The music from below was muffled through the distance, as he dug the ring he’d stolen from her out of his pocket and slipped it onto her finger.
She opened her eyes and her look softened on him. “I’m glad you’re not a thief.”
“I wish things were different,” he said. How would the years have gone if they were? Would they have had children by now? Dark-haired daughters with her smile and his eyes?
Sighing, she pressed her chin into her palm. “If only none of this had happened.”
“How about we just start over?” he asked.
She peered down at her ring. “I don’t know.”
This was killing him. He wanted to reach out and brush her hair from her face, touch her, confide in her. Was there a way for her to trust him without betraying his sister’s confidence? He had to be patient. “Give me a chance to prove myself to you.”
The activity grew louder below them. The fire wheel was about to be launched and the torches were lit, illuminating the scene in glorious splendor. Marian pulled away from the railing. “Robin?” She hesitated. He waited for her to say what she wanted to say. “I want to trust you, but I don’t know how.” She tugged off her ring and gave it back to him. “I’m sorry.”
His forehead wrinkled. His ridiculous gesture had turned on him. “It’s not mine.”
She kissed his cheek then, a little closer to his mouth than maybe she’d intended. She smelled of lilacs. If he turned an inch, he’d have her in his arms, but he knew this was goodbye. “Keep it to remember me.” And she escaped down the stairs. He watched her go, feeling the loss as her dark hair disappeared from his view. Of everything he’d given up, this hurt the most.
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