After the Storm by Susan Sizemore

can stop worrying about the two of them ever getting together and then we can leave."
    Marj arched one eloquent eyebrow in reply.
    "It could happen."
    "In your dreams."
    "Right." Being taller than most of the crowd, Libby had no trouble watching the girl take her turn from the back. "We'll leave tomorrow," she conceded after Sizemore, Susan - After the Storm
    Matilda completely missed the target.
    "Good."
    "Reynard's leaving with his prisoners then, anyway," Libby said. He thinks, she added to herself. In her pouch there was a key. Sometime today she was going to get a chance to use it. She had plans for Sir Reynard's prisoners that neither the sheriff nor Marj Jones would approve of. It was interfering, but there was no way she could stand by and let the men be taken to Reculver to be hanged.
    "It's Sir Reynard's turn," she observed as she linked arms with Marj and made her friend move back to the front row of watchers. "Then yours." Marj made a face, but Libby wasn't sure if it was because of Sir Reynard or at having to shoot.
    Libby did watch Marj watch the sheriff. The historian's look was full of guarded pleasure, pride, and interest as Reynard drew and fired. He just barely missed the green inner circle.
    As for herself, Libby firmly kept her attention away from Bastien even though she knew he was only a few feet away. She wondered what it was about these thirteenth-century men that two women of the twenty-first century found so fascinating. They were a pair of barbarians, brimming with testosterone and misogynist notions despite their tiny butts and killer pectorals. Maybe it's the costumes, she thought, maybe the clothes made everyone seem more romantic and desirable. It was like living at a full-time Renaissance fair. This was the sort of thing Elliot Hemmons wanted to provide to a future time, a flesh-and-blood entertainment reality to rent out to those bored with the virtual kind. He had no idea how dangerous these men really were. Libby knew she should be embarrassed that she was uncivilized enough to equate dangerous with sensuous when the words really didn't have anything in common, though her body told her otherwise.
    Sizemore, Susan - After the Storm
    Marj took her shot, also just barely missing the green. When Marj was done and the polite applause had died down. Sir Stephan stepped forward. He lifted a small embroidered pouch for everyone to see. "A dozen silver coins for the winner," he announced. He turned in a slow circle, jingling the coins as he did so. With his other hand he pointed at the archers. "Who shall receive the prize?"
    Libby blushed as the spectators began to chant, "Isabeau! Isabeau!"
    "Isabeau is Queen of the May," someone called out.
    "Ooh, ouch," she muttered. She didn't mind taking the archery prize but she preferred another candidate for the beauty pageant. "Matilda is youngest and fairest in the land!" she called out. "I'll take the coins. Give Matilda the crown!"
    She grabbed the girl by the hand and pulled her forward. "Here is the May Queen, good people!"
    "Isabeau!" was the loud reply from almost every voice.
    This was not what she'd intended. Winning the archery contest had been fun, it had been something between her and Bastien of Bale, even if there had been fifty or sixty other people watching. Unfortunately the fifty or sixty other people hadn't known she hadn't been paying any attention to them. They'd been paying attention to her. Now her plans for Matilda were screwed up because she'd forgotten about the audience.
    "This world's too damned interactive," she muttered.
    When someone else called out "Bastien of Bale is the Hooded Man!" Libby glared at Bastien as though it were his fault he was being declared the most virile male in the vicinity. Much to her annoyance people began to call out "Isabeau and Bastien!"
    When Bastien stepped up to her he wasn't carrying his staff. "Lady," he said, gently easing her grip from Matilda's arm, "I think we should accept this