RIGHT…FOR MANY REASONS

As Julie worked on his hair she paid more attention to her careful
cutting and to the long waves that she now let fall to the kitchen
floor than to him himself. It was not till she was done that she took
several steps back and almost let the scissors drop from her hand when she beheld him.

"What?" he asked, noting her wide eyes. "Have I been butchered?"

"Robin," she gasped.

"What?"

"You...you're...Robin."

"Of course I'm Robin," he said, brushing remaining strands of cut hair
from his shoulders, and walking toward a small mirror in the hallway.
When he saw his reflection, he smiled and ran a hand over his smooth
head. "Ah," he sighed. "I'm back."

He returned to the kitchen, standing in front of her, cocking his head
as he saw her continued wide-eyed gaze. "Is something the matter?"

"Rob...Robert," she whispered.

"What about Robert?"

"He...he's gone."

Robin laughed. "You preferred him to me?"

"I...I...I'm just not used to...you."

"It is only the hair that is gone, Julie. I am the same man."

She wasn't at all sure about that. Even the face of the man who stood
before her seemed different, more rugged, more...more...battle-hardened. And definitely more like Maximus. "You look like you could be his brother," she murmured. "The General. Like his brother."

"A not unflattering comparison," Robin smiled.

"I need to think about this," she muttered, sitting in the chair Robin
had vacated.

"Have you then changed your mind about taking me home with you?"

She looked up at his smiling face, then down the length of him, easily
transposing his garb into leather pants and a tunic. Changed her mind? Not hardly! Robert's going might take a bit of getting used to, but this Robin, with his mere intense presence, was doing things unseemly to her insides.

"N...no," she stammered, though he hardly looked like he needed taking
care of at the moment. The close-cropped hair gave him an air of
strength and power that was almost overwhelming her.

"I shall be finishing my packing then," he said, and she watched his broad back as he walked away.

He was going home with her, not Robert, but Robin Hood was going home
with her. Her tongue ran across her suddenly-dry lips. She needed a
drink and wasn't sure tea would quite be enough. Weren't there novels where the heroine or the writer, even, got sucked into the pages of the thing? She just didn't know if she'd been sucked into his story of he'd been sucked into hers. Whichever, now that it had happened, she wasn't going to let go of it.

Robin returned with a small leather bag. Julie was still sitting where he'd left her, looking slightly dazed, so he set the bag down and began to sweep up his hair. She watched him distractedly, only focusing enough to flinch when he emptied the dustpan into the trashbin. Her hand went to her pocket, glad she'd saved that first shorn lock. Loxlely's lock. She giggled and he cast an odd look in her direction.

"I'm ready," he announced, not quite sure why he was letting himself be taken to her house other than something in him rather wanted to go.

"Oh, um, yes. Me, too," she said, getting to her feet, unable to remember where she'd set her purse. Ah, there, on the little table in the hall.

She drove them the short distance to Rose Cottage. "Here we are," she said lamely.

"Indeed, here we are." He waited for her to do something, but when she just stared at her hands curved over the steering wheel, he added, "Shall we get out of the car?"

"Oh, um, yes...yes, good idea. Get out of the car." Her mind was off, following the scandalous lead of her body, and there his hands were already touching her. She blushed. "Yes, let's get out of the car," she repeated.

Getting his bag, he followed her up to the door, waiting while she fumbled with her keys. Damn, she couldn't concentrate. He was right behind her, so close his breath was on her neck. How was a woman supposed to be expected to know which key fit in the damn lock!! At last...the right one...and she was opening the door and stepping into the refuge that Rose Cottage had become for her. Only he was still close behind her, and at her invitation, too, so that 'refuge' wasn't exactly the right word any longer.

He followed her into the living room, setting his bag down, taking a seat on the couch and blowing out a long breath, which made him cough. Oh, right! She'd been so distracted by his transformation from one man into another that she'd completely forgotten about the smoke and the hospital.

"You...you're probably tired?" she ventured.

He nodded, surprised himself at a sudden draining of his strength.

"Let me show you your room, then, Rob...Robin, and you can rest a bit while I see about supper."

He'd almost forgotten what it was like to have a woman watching over his well-being. Not that he'd ever known all that much of it, but it was nice, and he let her guide him up the stairs to a small guest room across the hall from her bedroom. It was all done in shades of blue and had belonged to the grown son of the older woman who had lived in the house before.

Slipping off his shoes, he lay atop the bedspread. "Thank you," he said, watching as she went to the door.

She left the door ajar and went to her own room a moment, a contrast to the blue room as it was all in pinks and mauves and white, liberally sprinkled with patterns of fully-blown cabbage roses. Sitting on the side of her bed, she looked at herself in the wide mirror across the room. Mirror. Yes. Alice through the looking glass. Rabbit holes and looking glasses. Her undoing.

Getting up, she brushed her hair, then walked quietly across the hall, pushing his door just a tad more open with the tip of one finger. He was asleep. Tip-toeing in, she gently spread a blanket over him, then sat in a padded chair, watching him. Yes, it was right that she'd asked him to come to Rose Cottage. Right for many...many reasons.