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  “Bully!” I told him and kicked him off my bed, which seemed to laugh with jolly humor all around me.

  “My lady!”

  I swung around to see that Prince Charming was holding off two of those creatures while still calling to me. A bunch more were battling with his small army of soldiers out in what should have been my living room—but they were all quickly migrating toward my bedroom, swords clashing, shields clanging as they used them to ward off blows from giant, spiked bludgeons and glinting battleaxes. “My lady, you must get out of here now!”

  I looked around, realizing there was nowhere I could run. The walls were made of cold flagstone and the only window was about twelve feet up (six and a half feet taller than I stood).

  Prince Charming realized my distress. “My lady, go for the window!” he called as he clashed with yet another of those things. “I’ve brought dragoons!”

  I had no idea what dragoons were, but I raced to the window anyway, looking up at it. It was my only escape from this madness, as out of reach as it was.

  An idea struck me, and I threw the candlestick down so I could run to one side of a huge hope chest against the wall and push it under the window. I jumped atop it even as the battle spilled over into my bedroom. I found that gave me an extra three feet of play space. The window was now about three and a half feet above my head. I jumped a few times before getting a good hold of the windowsill. Being an EMT gives you some pretty good upper body strength, and I was pretty fit from working out fairly regularly at the gym. I was much stronger than I looked, and after a little grunting and sweating, I managed to scramble to the ledge of what seemed to be a tall tower window. It was much wider than I was used to.

  I turned to the window and sucked in a deep, troubling breath. My dream was really working overtime now. I saw lush green vales and flowering hills that seemed to roll away into the far distance, where vast icy mountains reared up in kingly splendor. It looked like promotional material for a vacation to the alps, or maybe Ireland. The landscape was dotted with ruins and small stone cottages that reminded me of the Lord of the Rings movies. I spotted a distant herd of dappled unicorns grazing around a crystal blue pond. The sky above was a clear, electric blue full of what I could only assume were giant, winged lizards flying in a circular pattern. “Dragons,” I breathed, making myself say the impossible word. “Here there be dragons?”

  Back in my room, I heard a fierce cry of desperation. Prince Charming was slashing and cutting down his enemies with an expert series of thrust and parries, but I could tell it was taking a tremendous toll on him. He sagged more, and his breath was coming in short, hard spurts as he disarmed another one of those bizarre creatures.

  “Prince Charming!” I cried, as stupid as that sounded, and he glanced up to where I offered him my hand. “Come on, there’s room!”

  He didn’t take my hand, which would have stupidly pulled me down, when I really thought about it. Instead he said, “Take my sword, my lady!” and tossed it up to me. I grabbed the hilt and the weight of it almost dragged me off the ledge. I decided my dreams created really heavy swords. Then he stood back, took a running leap, and kicked off the wall, leaping to the top of the ledge like in a Kung Fu movie.

  He never stopped for a moment, sweeping up his sword and then taking my little hand in his big one before turning toward the window. “They are here, my lady. The dragoons come!”

  One of the dragons veered off course and swept around until it was hovering before the big, arched window. It was the size of an elephant, and it smelled like one too, only worse. A small, bearded, dwarflike man rode on its back, using a whole tack system and saddle to hang on. He nodded at us. “Prince Harold! You have the witch? Come on!”

  “Prince Harold?” I said, grinning at handsome Prince Charming. “So by any chance do you go by Prince Harry?”

  He gave me a confused look, and I realized the name meant no more to him than my Clue references. “Wow, we’re really not in Kansas anymore, are we, Dorothy?” I said to no one in particular.

  Prince Harry frowned. He probably thought I was an imbecile. “We have no time to waste, witch,” he told me and swept him arm around my waist. I screamed as he easily lifted me up and onto the dragon’s back, just behind the dwarf. My vertigo kicked in when I realized we were several stories off the ground, and I started whimpering even as Prince Harry climbed onto the saddle behind me and wrapped his strong arms around my waist.

  “Stay strong, my lady,” he breathed in my hair. “The journey will be short. Reinforcements are already pouring into your castle. Soon we will own the day.”

  “Um…okay,” I agreed.

  The dwarf kicked the dragon into action and we rocketed off like a bat out of hell.

  I screamed again.

  * * *

  We landed near a creek where the dragoon dwarf was able to get our dragon a drink of water. Prince Harry, likewise, availed himself of the creek, sliding off his battle leather and tattered poet’s shirt so he could splash the sparkling water over his various wounds. The battle leather had preserved his beautifully sculpted chest and abs, but there were cuts and bruises all up and down his well-muscled arms where his greaves had not protected him.

  “Let me see that,” I said when I spotted a particularly deep wound in his bicep.

  He rested patiently at the water’s edge, letting me examine the wound. He didn’t even flinch when I gently fingered the ragged edges. “You could use a stitch or two on that,” I told him. I cleaned the wound as best I could at the moment, then tore off a strip of my brand new nightgown and used the clean material to bind it. “Since I don’t have anything to stitch you up at the moment, this will work for now. But I really need you to keep an eye on this wound. It’s deep.”

  Prince Harry watched me quietly. “My lady has gentle, yet learned, hands,” he said, though I noticed he was somewhat distracted by the way my nightgown, damp from splashing by the river, clung to my breasts, and the way the coolness of the vale made my nipples stand erect. I might have been embarrassed, but this was still my wet dream, and no one would ever know about it but me, right? “You don’t seem a fearsome witch,” he said.

  “I’m not a witch, Harry. I’m an EMT First Responder.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “I do this for a living.” I indicated his bandaged arm.

  “And you do it well, my beautiful witch.”

  “You know, you have a somewhat sexist way of talking to women.”

  He blinked at me, bemused. “I don’t understand your grievance, witch, but it never goes out of fashion to be thankful to the one who heals your wounds.” He took my hand then and kissed it, then stood up and turned to the dwarf. “Thank you for your help, my kind friend.” He clapped him on the shoulder the way men do everywhere.

  “It’s my pleasure, Prince,” the dwarf said, doing a kind of brief, backsliding bow. I decided my dream had some serious hang-ups with proper etiquette.

  Prince Harry turned back to explain how the mountain dwarfs were good allies of his people, and how they were all united in their hatred of the Ogres, a race of people who had recently poured up from the underground where they had once lived happily for thousands of years in order to overwhelm the people of the Summerland.

  “Summerland?” I said.

  Prince Harry stretched out his arm to indicate the vale and the lands beyond. “This is the Summerland. To the east is the Land of Nod, and to the west is Arcadia, the land of the sea people. Once we lived in peace, but now the threat of the Ogres has forced our hand and we must retaliate. A spy warned me and my men that the Ogres would lay siege to your stronghold, my lady, and we knew we could not allow this. Your skills as a healing-mage are legendary in the Three Kingdoms and we cannot let this fortress fall. I could not let it fall…”

  “Who are you?” I said, interrupting his fine speech.

  He looked at me proudly. “Harold, Prince of Summerland and the younger brother of King Philip, who married Bri
ar Rose. I rode out with the dragoons as our backup to rescue your fortress.” And with those words, he went to one knee before me and bowed his head to show he was at my service in my time of need.

  Wow, I thought, my dream was getting really complicated when I thought of all the World of Warcraft-y stuff going on around me. I either had a truly awesome imagination I wasn’t aware of, or this was an indication that pepperoni pizza before bedtime was a major no-no.

  About that time, a cavalry of men in armor similar to Prince Harry’s rode up on giant, shaggy, armored warhorses. The man leading the charge stopped and saluted Prince Harry before dismounting. “The witch’s fortress is secured, my liege, and the last Ogre has been driven off.”

  “Very good, Oswald,” Prince Harry said with a determined smile. He looked me over, his eyes sparkling with both bravery and plain old hunky lust. I could tell he liked doing this, that he was in his element. He picked up his discarded armor. “Let’s hurry to return the beautiful witch to her castle.”

  * * *

  While Harry’s men availed themselves of some salted pork in the food pantry, I walked my brave Prince Charming through a twist of corridors until I found what might be a laboratory. At least, it looked like one, if it had been decorated by Doctor Frankenstein. The walls were bare stone like the rest of the fortress, and there were shelves of old, mysterious books and racks containing thousands of bottles of questionable substances in small bottles.

  “This really is not necessary,” Harry insisted, but I hushed him up as I started searching for something I recognized and could actually use to help his wounds.

  After pawing around, I finally found what seemed to be clean bandages made of some kind of gauze or gossamer in a trunk, as well as a large bottle of what seemed to be iodine. I put my finger in it and tasted it just to be sure, and yes, it was definitely a primitive form of iodine. In the same trunk, I found a suture kit, though not the nice sterile kind I was used to. This one was composed of something I suspected was catgut and a long, thin needle probably made from an animal tooth with a hole bored in it. Dear lord, no wonder medieval folks got septic wounds.

  “It may not be necessary to you, Harry, but it’s definitely necessary.” I disinfected my primitive needle and catgut in the iodine, since I had no water to boil, and no idea where I could get some. Then I had Harry sit in a chair while I worked on sewing up his wound. “If we don’t get this fixed and disinfected, it could turn septic.” When he looked at me oddly, I explained, “I’m referring to the presence of pathogenic organisms in the bloodstream, leading to sepsis, a very dangerous medical condition. It can lead to systemic inflammatory response syndrome, or SIRS, which can lead to organ failure.”

  He was watching me again, resting his head on his knuckles while I sewed his arm. He didn’t even flinch as I worked the needle in and out of his flesh. Now that was tough. “I don’t understand the words coming from your mouth, witch, but they are sweet. Almost as sweet as the mouth that produced them.” He reached out and brushed a finger across my cheek.

  I tried not to be charmed, but then I reminded myself that this was a dream even as I finished sewing Harry up and started bandaging his wound. In my dream, I didn’t have to be Fern the quiet, responsible one. Fern who didn’t make mistakes, who didn’t think with her heart or her genitals. Instead, I did what I wanted and turned into his touch.

  I gasped at his tenderness. Somehow, I hadn’t expected that. I hadn’t expected that I was this lonely.

  It was all the invitation that Harry needed. He grasped the back of my hair and drew me as easily into his lap as if I were a small child. He sniffed my hair and along the side of my face, then seized my cheeks in his big, war-roughened hands and kissed me. That kiss—that first kiss—made me gasp with its heat and intensity.

  “I think my lady has bewitched me,” he said breathlessly against my mouth. He traced the seam of my lips with his tongue before parting them and delving deep inside. Meanwhile, his hand moved to my right breast, to snag the hard, throbbing bead of my nipple between his forefinger and thumb. The sudden jab of pleasure sparkling through me made me moan into his mouth.

  Harry growled against my mouth in response, stood up and carried me effortlessly to one of the wooden work benches in the lab. He set me down and looked me over as if he were trying to decide where to start, how to unwrap me. He had a youthful face, and what my mom would call girly eyelashes, but his eyes and his body were definitely that of a man.

  I ran my hands beneath his open poet’s shirt. He let me skim it off his broad shoulders and I took a moment to appreciate the firm, sinewy strength of a man who was obviously used to warfare and living hard off the land, the body of a warrior. There wasn’t an inch of softness in his hard plains and lean, rippling muscles. There were tribal tattoos scrolled around his upper arms, and scars all over his chest and neck, but they somehow enhanced his male beauty. I ran my hand over an old, white scar at his clavicle, the obvious result of a large, sharp blade, and he grunted as if I had hurt him. But I didn’t think I had hurt him.

  “I didn’t know princes were warriors,” I said, looking him over.

  “I’m a prince in name only,” Harry told me, his eyes raking over me in a particularly lascivious way. “The Summerland belongs to my brother the King.”

  “So you’re more like his general—his second in command.”

  “It’s good work. Fulfilling.” His pale blue eyes darkened and he scraped his fingers through my hair. He sounded confident, but there was an undertone of sadness to his voice. I wondered what it felt like to live under the shadow of a king whose kiss had famously awakened Briar Rose, the Sleeping Beauty. I knew I was no Briar Rose, not a rose at all. Just a Fern.

  But Harry’s attention remained riveted to my plain, boyish, pixie face. “Does my lady wish to be…my lady?”

  I whimpered in response and he lowered his head and his mouth clamped hungrily over the side of my neck, sucking and kissing hard. I moaned in his ear, feeling almost faint with a sudden surge of desire I didn’t think I could feel anymore. My hands snaked up his back under the shirt, stroking along his scars. Harry moved his open mouth up the column of my throat, stopping at my ear to nip at my earlobe and suck at my small, practical loop earring before continuing his journey over the curve of my cheek. He stopped to brush butterfly kisses over both my eyes, a strangely endearing gesture, before lowering his head and slanting his kiss against my mouth, briefly and fiercely.

  “You’re the best dream I’ve ever had,” I told Harry as he worked my nightgown over my head and tossed it to the floor. I shivered in the cold of the lab, naked except for my thin bikini underwear. He wasted no time thumbing my nipples to sharp points, drawing warm circles around them before lowering his head and nipping at my aching buds. He sucked one deep into his mouth and spiraled his tongue around the swollen tip. Pleasure rocketed through me, igniting my nerves and making me wet.

  “I can smell you, my lady,” he told me. “Spread your legs. Let me in.”

  I did as he asked, excitement shooting through me. He slid my panties down my legs, kneeling as he did so, his eyes level with my wet, pulsing pussy. He growled out his appreciation even as his fingers teased apart my wet folds and dipped briefly inside me. I clenched around his fingers, hard, and then he brought them to his lips, tasting me, closing his eyes as he savored my juices, then forced my legs further apart so his tongue could flit over my clit. My back arched and I nested my hands in his thick, curling blond hair, moaning as his tongue darted deep inside and curled upward, almost touching my g-spot.

  “You tasted delicious, my lady,” he murmured against my sweet spot, and the sound of his voice dragged a sudden little orgasm out of me. I felt my lower stomach muscles contract and I bucked my hips, pouring my juices into his mouth and down the inside of my thighs.

  He groaned and tongued them all up before moving back up my body. Again he reached for my hair, holding me in place so he could kiss me and rub the front of his bo
dy, and his excitement, against my belly and cunt. I kissed him and we tongue-wrestled while I boldly ripped his breeches open. His erection was huge and ruby red and throbbing, well proportioned to his powerful body. I was still on the pill, so I wasn’t worried about pregnancy. Then again, this was my dream, right? I didn’t have to be practical. I didn’t have to worry about such things.

  “My little beauty,” he said.

  I cried out in surprise when he bent me over backwards across the workbench. He drew my legs up around his waist and plowed into me in one smooth motion. He groaned in appreciation and his thick, well-formed erection stretched my cunt, filling me completely, almost painfully. I felt a jolt of unbridled pleasure with each enthusiastic thrust of his cock in and out of my wetness.

  “Oh, Harry,” I heard myself sigh as he pounded me mercilessly, like no man ever had. He spoke to me softly, in a hushed, controlled voice, telling me how beautiful I was, how much he wanted me, even as he fucked me hard, my back arching as his cock, slick with my juices, slid in and out of me, going almost to the end of me. Finally, he pulled me up against his chest, and I wrapped my arms around his neck and breathed in his sweet male scent as he bucked deep inside of me, bouncing me up and down against the smooth, muscular plans of his body. I giggled because it was like some erotic ride at Disneyland.

  “You really are a witch,” he said and snagged the side of my neck in his teeth once more. He held me as he trembled and lunged inside me, bringing us both. He groaned as he spilled his seed deep inside of me. When it was over, he smoothed his palm over my cheek and kissed my tousled hair, his body still lodged deep inside mine. “And, my lady, I do believe you have bewitched me.”

  * * *

  “Have you ever considered a parlay?” I suggested from the head of the table as I broke bread with Prince Harry’s men.