Immortal Dreams (39 page)

“We’ll just find a way to steal one, to borrow it temporarily so we can get the heck outta here.”

Frank shook his head, a shadow crossing his face. “It’s not that easy, Sarah. The owner of the ring has to
wear
it when activating the portal.”

“You want me to exchange I-do’s with this guy so I will be royalty, so I’ll be handed the royal ring? You’ve got to be kidding.”

“Once I found you, my original plan was for us to somehow kidnap a queen, a prince, or maybe a king just long enough to open the portal.”

“You were going to hold them hostage with the...” She looked him up and down. “With the tranquilizer gun I gave you? Brilliant, Frank. Just brilliant...and completely insane.”

“Funny. I got the same reaction from the people I’ve met here. They told me it would be a suicide mission. Fortunately, thanks to you, we can scratch that and move on to Plan B.”

“What’re you saying? You want me to be the queen in your crappy excuse of a plan? The only way that will happen is if I marry Mr. Lunatic King so he’ll place a wedding ring on my finger.”

He pointed at her finger. “The vows won’t mean anything, Sarah, except that you’ll be wearing the key to the portal.”

She massaged her temples to ease the sudden tension building inside her skull. “What if this doesn’t work? I’ll be stuck as Queen Guinevere, married to some medieval—and I do mean evil—whack-job for the rest of my life, taking care of his bratty little minions.”

“It will work. It has to, or else we’re both gonna be ditching our careers and putting in applications at the Round Table.”

“That might work for you, Frank, but I’m not having it.” She scoffed. “I can fight with a sword if I have to, even if they’ve never heard of Joan of Arc. Regardless, I’m going to get my hands on that ring-slash-key because I’ll do anything to get back home.”

“I’ll come up with an escape plan.” Frank pulled her close. “If I didn’t think you were up for the challenge, I’d never have asked you to do this, but I know how tough you are. If anybody can pull this off, Sarah, it’s you.”

It was a bold and daring plan, and she had to stay strong, focused, and determined so they could pull it off and get back home. She simply could not allow fear to creep in. “Fine. King Victor is a royal pain in the butt, but don’t worry. I can handle him.” She touched Frank’s arm, knowing full well she should’ve never made Frank go inside that cave. Now they were stuck in some crazy world trying to pull off a jewelry heist. “I’m sorry I dragged you into all of this.”

“Are you kidding? I couldn’t let you have all the fun.” He hesitated, his gaze connecting with hers. “At least not alone.”

She cleared her throat and inched closer, peeling her gaze away just to avoid the depth of those hazel eyes.

Frank shook his head as if in disbelief. “I still can’t believe this place exists. You really think your sister is here?”

“Yes. I believe she’s alive, somewhere in this medieval world. I can feel it.”

“I agree, now that I’ve seen it with my own eyes. Anyway, the first thing we need to do is get the ring,” Frank said. “If we don’t take this opportunity, we may never get home. We’ll be stuck here forever. Once we have the ring, we’ll go undercover and hunt for your sister.”

Hundreds of thoughts raced through Sarah’s mind, but she managed a nod. “That’s a beginning. In the meantime, Frank, do as much digging as you can. You’re a reporter, a million times sharper than Lois Lane, remember? And right now I need you to be my Superman.”

“I knew those words were going to come back and bite me.”

“While you’re out there, keep an eye and ear out for Liz, okay?” Sarah whispered. Her voice came hoarse, barely audible in her own ears. For a moment, she wasn’t sure he even heard her, but then he gave a sharp nod.

“I’ll see what I can find.”

A black beetle scurried over her foot. She squashed it, digging her boot into the dirty ground until dust whirled up. “I don’t want to risk getting stuck here forever, but there is no way I’m leaving without my sister—not after looking for her for so long.”

“Then you have to play along, or we’ll never get the chance to get our hands on that ring.”

“Princess Gloria seems to be in hiding, letting me take the fall. What if he figures out I’m not the real deal?”

Frank cupped her face. “You need to bring home the Oscar at all costs, babe.”

A shudder rocked her body. “We don’t have much time. The ceremony’s tonight. Boy, I can’t wait to see the comments I’m gonna get when I tweet and Facebook this crap.”

“You won’t
really
be married, Sarah. It’s not legal.”

“Whatever. He said sunset, though, so you have to hurry. Trust me, it’s the only thing he looks forward to. The guy’s dying to knock me up with triplets, quadruplets, quintuplets, and sextuplets.”

Frank smiled. “Wow. What a lucky man.”

“What, you want a try too?” She slapped his armor. “Focus, please. We need all the brain cells we can get.”

“I swear to you that I won’t let it get that far. Our plan is to get the ring, break out, find your sister, and then run like hell to Sabrino Cave—back to reality and that diner we were talking about.”

She shook her head. “It’s doable...I think.”

He nodded. “You can do this. You’re the strongest person I know. Who goes out in front of thousands of people and gives lectures about supposedly imaginary monsters without batting an eyelash? Who politely tells off all the reporters and debunkers? Who got the biggest research grant in the state of California?” He smiled. “You did, Bigfoot researcher, Sarah Larker.”

“Aw, shucks. I never knew you had so much confidence in me.” She smirked.

“You know it, Princess.” He softly kissed her hand. “I can’t believe this. I’m down here dressed like some Lancelot wannabe in a creepy dungeon in another dimension, trying to win you back. What kind of joke is fate playing on me anyway? Man, karma can do a number on a skeptic, huh?”

“Life’s funny that way, always throwing us some kind of curveball. I mean, when I woke up this morning, I never dreamt I’d be a medieval queen in the land of Camelot.”

A chirp sounded nearby. “That’s the signal.” Frank peeked down the corridor.

Footsteps echoed, and Sarah jumped. “Somebody’s coming.”

Frank’s lips softly brushed hers. “Leaving you is the last thing I want to do. You know that, right?” He flipped his visor down.

She gasped, anger rising inside her once again. “Don’t feel guilty for leaving me here to marry a complete stranger who wants nothing more than to see my stomach swollen with his seed.”

He turned around, his eyes wide. “You’re right. I can’t do this. What in the world am I thinking? Leaving you here is just...stupidly impossible. Come with me, Sarah. We’re gonna find your sister and find our own way out of this Renaissance nightmare.”

Knowing there was no other way, Sarah turned and ran down the corridor.

“What’re you doing?!” Frank yelled, chasing after her.

She grabbed the door and slammed it shut, then walked to the back of the cell. Staying in that freaky dimension wasn’t an option. She had to take a chance on marrying the nutcase if it meant she could get her hands on that key. “Lock me in! Hurry!”

“What?”

She met his gaze through the rusty bars. “You heard me. Lock it and leave. Tell the other knights to inform the king that I’ve changed my mind and I’d love to marry him.”

“Sarah, are you sure? You really need to think about this. I mean, you’re risking everything, and what if we—”

“I have thought about it, Frank, and this is the best way.” She smiled. “Now go...and don’t worry.”

“I’ll get you out of this, I swear. Just get that ring.”

“Not a problem.” As he turned to leave, she added, “I’ll be sure to say hello to hubby for you.”

Chapter 5

Sarah smoothed out her white and gold Juliet-style dress. The corseted bodice clung to her chest like a second skin, raising and flattening all the right places, but she hadn’t seen that style in any magazine in the last twenty years. She felt for the tags at the back, but the scratchy piece of material wasn’t there. It certainly wasn’t a designer label, but with all the sequins, lace, and fine details, it would have made a killing on any runway.

The maidservants had wasted no time preparing her for her dreaded nuptials. They scrubbed her skin with lye soap in a tub of scalding water. Countless hands had forced her into a wedding dress so tight she didn’t know whether she was dead as a ghost or just floating from the lack of oxygen, and the shiny tiara that weighed a ton didn’t ease her throbbing headache either. A long veil trailed the ground, promising to send her into a tumbling fall if she didn’t move gracefully.

Curls trimmed her forehead and fell in ringlets down the sides of her face. Thicker curls hung loosely at the back of her head and neck. She played with one gingerly, marveling at how easy it wound around her finger.
So this is what hair felt like before straightening irons and all that hairspray.
She couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen anyone with ringlet curls, but she was beginning to think the trend should be brought back to life.

A guard walked Sarah through the dimly lit corridor, then stopped, his eyes focused somewhere above her chest.

Frowning, she followed his line of vision and let out a groan. The pervert’s stare at her cleavage couldn’t have been more obvious if he’d have tattooed the words on his forehead. She rolled her eyes. “Why don’t you take a picture? It’ll last longer.” She was certain that King Victor had definitely picked out the winner of a dress.

The guard cocked an eyebrow. “Excuse me, Highness?”

“Paint a portrait?”

“I’m afraid I don’t understand.”

“Never mind,” Sarah hissed. Of course they wouldn’t know what a camera was in a place where they still knew what a chastity belt was and thought asking for a woman’s hand in marriage meant knocking her over the head and dragging her to one’s cage.

The guard opened the door, letting her into a large room. More guardsmen stood in every corner. She brushed against the wooden frame to avoid touching him. Her eyes fell on the iron chandeliers holding a multitude of taupe-colored candles. Beautiful red and purple tapestries and elaborate arrangements of gleaming swords, maces, arm poles, and shields covered the stone-sculptured walls. She took a deep breath as realization hit: She was there, in that real medieval castle, to marry a real king.

“Wait here.” The guard motioned her to stand by the floor-to-ceiling fireplace.

Minutes later, Victor walked in. He took her hand and kissed it gently. Her stomach fluttered as she peered from his gleaming white teeth and black, shaggy hair into his blue eyes. As much as she hated to admit it, he could’ve stepped out of a fairytale; he was dressed like Prince Charming himself, complete with crown, cape, short breeches tucked into high boots, and tights. The black and white doublet, with a golden lion emblazoned on the velvet, outlined every muscle in his chest. He was a handsome sight, even if he had the personality of a wolverine; she had never gone for the controlling type who enjoyed threatening to murder her for his own political gains. Against her better judgment, her knees went weak.
Quit drooling!
she scolded herself. She was in a very dangerous situation with a man who could kill her at any moment if he found out who she really was—or wasn’t. Sooner or later, he’d discover that she wasn’t Gloria, and there wasn’t a royal bone in her body.

Slowly, his gaze traveled over her. “Princess Gloria, you look dashing...much more like a princess now, soon to be a queen, my dear.”

Sarah knew that she had to play along if she wanted to get out of there. She returned his smile and curtsied, hoping it looked close enough to the real deal. “Thank you, milord.”

A grin grew across his lips. “You respond to your name now?”

An incredibly sexy dimple in his left cheek drew her attention. She moistened her lips; her breath caught in her throat. “I-I must’ve hit my head earlier and was confused, forgetting my identity. It’s all coming back to me, but certain parts still remain unclear,” she fibbed, hoping that would cover her if someone asked her a question she couldn’t properly answer. She had to play the part of Princess Gloria perfectly or Plan B was gonna be a no-go.

He pointed around the room. “Welcome to my home...
your
home now.

“Since you’re mentioning it, the first thing I would like to do is hire an interior designer.”

“I’ve no idea what that is.” He inched closer and touched the side of her face with a caress so tender it sent shivers down her spine. “However, if it’s within my might to buy it for you, then so be it.”

Sarah took a step back, her fingers barely connecting with the material of his shirt as she placed a hand between them. Her throat felt constricted; her heart hammered in her chest. If he wouldn’t have followed her command, she wouldn’t have had the willpower to push him away.

“You make a beautiful bride,” he said. “I’m glad you finally came to your senses.”

“Well, Victor, sitting in a cold dungeon will do that to a girl—that and threats of execution will nudge a gal in the right direction.”

“You’re taking all of this rather calmly. Your reputation preceded you, and I expected more of a fight.”

“My father doesn’t care if I live or die, so I hope he chokes on my new title.” She smiled inwardly. Getting into character wasn’t as hard as she thought.

“That’s the spirit! You would never have been queen in your own kingdom. I have a feeling your mother is going to hold on to that title for a long time.”

“Exactly, and that’s why I’ve decided to take this wonderful opportunity, though I must admit I would have preferred a bit more romance and a proper courting.” She blinked her lashes, amused. “May I give you some dating...er, courting advice, my King?”

“You may.” A note of amusement rang in his tone.

“It works best to woo a girl and sweep her off her feet rather than throw her in a dungeon. When you propose, try kneeling and stating your undying love. That works better than threatening your future bride with impending death or impregnating her with ten kids.”