Romancing Robin Hood by Jenny Kane Page A

herself down.
    Panic had a go at trying to claim Grace, but she quickly shrugged it off and attempted to be practical as she headed to the School of History, situated in a stunning Georgian building called Lenton Grove on the west side of the campus. Walking sedately, trying to get a grip on her nerves, Grace, not caring if anyone overheard and thought she was nuts, muttered under her breath, ‘For goodness sake, this is Nottingham. If you’re out there anywhere, Robin Hood, then help me get through this in one piece, and then I’ll return to the novel, I promise.’

Chapter Eight
    Determined not to appear as flustered as she felt, Grace took herself into the nearest cloakroom and washed her hands. Fluffing her mass of hair into a marginally less straggly state, she sternly told her reflection that she was clever, knew as much as anyone about medieval England, and that this Dr Franks would be friendly and it would all be fine. She didn’t let herself think about after the viva. The idea of dress shopping with Daisy the following day made her palms sweat.
    Picking up her belongings, Grace thought of her novel’s protagonist, Mathilda, frightened but brave, sitting with a member of the infamous Folville family with no idea what fate was about to throw at her. ‘And you think you’ve got problems!’
    Having announced her arrival to the Humanities Department receptionist, and asking if he would mind storing her overnight bag until the viva was over, Grace took a seat and awaited Dr Franks. As she looked around at the inevitable Robin Hood motif and the associated posters you’d expect to see anywhere in Nottingham, her mind drifted once again to Mathilda. Aware she was in danger of getting bogged down in too much historical detail if she wasn’t careful, she tried to work out how to move the story along a little faster.
    Usually Mathilda bathed in the village ford, splashing around in an attempt to scrape off the flour, leaves, grass, and dust of daily life. Total immersion in a bath was a completely new experience for her.
    When the austere female servant had been instructed to take her to bathe, Mathilda had been frightened, not really understanding what was about to happen. Everything was changing so fast. Only a little while ago she’d been catching fish in the river, then she’d been taken and imprisoned, and now she was being told to strip off all her dirty but familiar clothes, and get into the water that steamed before the fire in a small room off the main hall.
    Her fears, in this case a least, were unfounded. Plunged into the lightly lavender-fragranced tub, the blissfully warm water soothed her undernourished body and un-knotted her tense muscles. Mathilda sighed with the feeling of a temporary reprieve, for while she immersed in that pool there was nothing she could do about anything except get clean, and she found herself unexpectedly grateful for a period of forced inactivity, where she could neither receive instructions nor fruitfully plot to run away.
    I’m alive, she mused, and if, as Robert de Folville himself had told her she’d been exchanged for a debt, then her family should also be alive and well, so that could work on paying it off.
    As the tight-lipped housekeeper undid the remaining ties of her hair, and washed out its knotted tresses Mathilda resolved to believe that her new master was basically kind. It was less frightening that way. If the opportunity arose for her to ask about her family again, then she would do just that.
    â€˜Dr Harper?’
    A tall, fair-haired man, who she’d guess was probably in his late thirties, towered over Grace.
    Rising with a start, Grace dropped her manuscript into her bag as she stood. ‘I’m sorry, I was miles away.’
    â€˜Was it nice there?’
    â€˜Sorry?’
    â€˜Forget it, I was being silly.’ He extended a perfectly clean and pleasantly warm hand, the remnants of a tan