Heart of Sherwood Read online

  "We'll be back shortly, and mayhap James will favor us with a song or a tune on his lyre," she said with an encouraging wink, and escorted Maid Fay de Gisborne out of the hall.

  Sir Guy looked all too pleased with the relative privacy they had been afforded. "Marian, I must say, your cook is extraordinary!" he complimented.

  "Let me call her, and you can tell her yourself," she suggested.

  "Oh, no, don't bother her," he said, his mouth down turned. She noted that his beard and mustache had been recently trimmed to keep their stylish shape and he smelled of rosewater and cloves. It was evident to her that he wanted to impress her with his gentility. She had no choice but to feign interest, without giving him too much encouragement. "So your mother embroiders; what are your pastimes? Do you dance or play music?"

  "I know most of the court dances," she answered, "and I enjoy poetry and music. I attempted to learn the harp, but am not very accomplished."

  "I recall how well you danced during the festival at Windsor," Gisborne complimented her with a smile. "You shone among the other ladies, so graceful and natural on the dance floor."

  "Sir Guy," she said bashfully, lowering her gaze in modesty. "You give me too high a praise."

  "Rubbish," he answered, raising his chin, his eyes flowing over her soft, well-endowed form.

  "I understand you were a champion at tournaments not so long ago," Marian commented.

  Gisborne straightened and attempted to suck in his gut roll. "Indeed," he replied proudly. Then changed tone when he continued, "Alas, I suffered a back injury and the physician said I should not joust again lest I become an invalid, so I was forced into early retirement, but not before winning my share of tournaments, and that's the truth!"

  He laughed, and she smiled in return.

  "I'm certs you were quite successful." Marian knew Gisborne had been banned from competing for cheating, but she wasn't going to mention that embarrassment. "In fact," she said with a tilt of her head, inspiration striking as she tried to steer conversation in a different direction. "I believe if you were in charge of finding the outlaw Robin Hood instead of the Sheriff, he would have been caught by now."

  "I must say it took old Godfrey long enough to enlist my aide, but at last I think we have a plan that will work."

  Her eyes flickered. "Is that so?" Then she dismissively played with her hand cloth and glanced about the room. "The rumor is that all the soldiers fear to trek into Sherwood Forest on account of the ghosts."

  "Superstitions and old wives tales!" he retorted with a frown and turned in his chair toward her. "Commoners! There is just no way to endue them with rational thought! But we don't have to make them go in the forest if we can lure the bandit and his gang out." Guy sat back with a satisfied grin on his noble face.

  Marian wanted to nudge him for more information without seeming too obvious. "But if he feels safe hiding in Sherwood, what could possibly entice him out? Why, if I were an outlaw and had found a good hiding spot, I would simply stay put and avoid capture."

  "That is because you are wise, Maid Marian, and this churl is fraught with weaknesses."

  "Weaknesses?" she inquired.

  "Without a doubt," Guy answered with a nod. "Everyone has them, I suppose, but Godfrey and I have determined what this Hood's is, you see." Sir Guy looked up at a servant lad approaching. "Boy, I would like another piece of pie," he said casually and seemed to lose track of his conversation because he stopped talking.

  Can the man keep his mind on anything other than his appetites for even a few moments? Marian thought in exasperation.

  "Right away, milord," the lad replied and skipped off to the kitchen.

  "Guy, you fox," Marian complimented him with a bat of her lashes. "I knew you would come up with a plan. This weakness, is it in his fighting skills, or his poor sense of direction, pray tell?"

  "Oh, Marian, you truly do not understand these matters, do you, my flower?" Sir Guy laughed.

  "Then I pray thee, Sir, educate me." This is why she had agreed to invite him to dinner. She needed to learn the Sheriff's plan so she could warn Robyn.

  Gisborne sighed, his eyes lighting up at the plate of pie being placed before him. "Here you are, milord. Enjoy!" the boy said before scampering away.

  Marian wanted to ask if the bandit enjoyed pastries too much, if that was his weakness, but she refrained. She knew her sharp tongue would do nothing but get her into trouble, so she must continue to feign ignorance.

  After a few bites, Guy continued. "You see, milady, being a mere commoner himself, Robin Hood shares a sort of kinship with the poor. He thinks he can feed them and care for them and steal from us to put our hard earned coins into their slothful pockets. While I am certs he keeps the lion's share for himself, spies have told us he actually distributes handouts to manor serfs and village peasants. He likes them, you see?"

  Marian's face turned to honest puzzlement. "No, Sir Guy; I am not certain that I do."

  He beamed at her with the pride of one who had just solved some great mystery. "We use the poor as bait to draw him out. You know, rough them up, ask where his hideout is, hang a few. Once word gets to him–and I've no doubt it will–he shall come and try to rescue them. That is when we spring our trap. Brilliant, isn't it?"

  Marian felt as though her heart had stopped beating for an instant. She sat frozen, trying to maintain her composure while every instinct in her being was to beat the nobleman senseless.

  While it was true she had been raised in privilege and enjoyed her lifestyle because of the labors of her family's serfs, she was also a devout Christian woman who believed all people, rich and poor alike, were God's children and her brothers and sisters in Christ. Her parish priest taught that generosity toward the poor was a virtue. Her father never mistreated their serfs and made sure each one had food around a warm hearth. But Gisborne and the Sheriff planned to indiscriminately kill peasants who had done no wrong just to lure Robyn out to be captured. The plan was… evil. She could think of no other word.

  Trying to mask the shock and rage she was holding back, she swallowed hard and forced a smile. "Brilliant indeed." Not knowing how she could stay in the room with him one moment longer, Marian was thankful to hear her mother and Gisborne's daughter returning.

  "And that was the end of Marian's adventures in embroidery!" Her mother laughed and Fay followed her lead.

  "Oh, Papa, you should see!" she squealed. "Lady FitzWalter is a true artist!"

  "She is," Marian agreed, relieved by the distraction. "The hour is late, Sir Guy, and I still have things to which I must attend before I retire for the evening." Marian rose to join her mother at the end of the table. "We have so enjoyed your visit. You must come again soon."

  "Well, yes, I suppose it is late," he reluctantly agreed frowning down at the half piece of pie that remained on its plate. "Nottingham is planning a feast for Michaelmas in little more than a fortnight. There will be dancing, and I would be enchanted if you could join me at the castle for the festival."

  "I must consult my calendar," Marian said, then added. "I should love to come if there is no conflict. Good evening my lord, Maid Fay." Marian curtsied and strained to keep from running to the stairs.

  "I will see you out," Lady FitzWalter offered with a genuine smile.

  *~*~*

  Hidden in Marian's rooms, Robyn heard her footsteps coming long before she opened the door. Robyn got to her feet and moved back before Marian walked into the shadowy room, closing the door and latching it.

  "I thought you weren't courting Sir Guy," Robyn said with bemusement.

  "Robyn!" Marian used years of practiced restraint to keep her excited voice to a hush. She turned to envelope Robyn in her arms.

  Robyn reveled in her touch, eagerly returning the warm embrace. She breathed in Marian's perfumed scent, pressing a cheek to hers. This is where she had longed to be! This felt like home.

  Marian loosened her hold so she could look into Robyn's face, her own blue eyes shi
ning with glee. "What took you so long to come and see me?"

  "I've been a little busy, what with all the robbing from the rich, giving to the poor and avoiding being killed by the Sheriff," she replied jovially. "I did want to come sooner, but-"

  "Marian?" called Lady FitzWalter from the hallway. Marian groaned, and Robyn slid back into the blackness of the corner behind the door.

  Marian undid the latch and opened just a crack. "Yes, Mother?"

  Lady FitzWalter sighed, bestowing a soft, misty expression to her daughter. "I know Sir Guy is not your first choice; he is a bit older than you," she began.

  "His daughter is older than me!" Marian declared.

  "By only a year," she replied. "But he is an important lord with a large estate, and look at it this way–he likely doesn't have that many years left in him, and then you could inherit and find a husband of your own choosing."

  Marian threw her eyes toward heaven and let out a grievous sigh. "Mother, please understand two things; first, I invited Sir Guy and his daughter in order to be hospitable while they are visiting Nottingham, not because I wish to encourage an engagement. And second, I have made it perfectly clear that I will not accept a marriage proposal from anyone until Father returns, and that is simply the end of it."

  Lady FitzWalter's shoulders slumped as she sighed. "I don't think you quite understand a woman's poor position in the world, child. If he decides he wants you and there is no one around to fight him over it, he can have you whether you consent or not. You have been at court for several years yet not chosen a suitor, and I know full well you have been approached by a number of them. You are a woman, Marian, and cannot afford to be too choosey. It is not like there are many options; truly, only two–marriage or the church."

  Marian leaned her head against the doorframe, her countenance plummeting like a sinking stone. "Then mayhap it must be the church, but I've still a year or more to decide. I have not yet passed the age of eligibility. You don't know Gisborne like I do. He is not an honorable man."

  "Honor has its place, but if you set your sights too high, you may miss out altogether. I don't want you to end up alone." She reached a hand to stroke Marian's face as compassion and understanding filled her eyes. "Your father is an honorable man, and he has given me a good life, but there have been hurdles to overcome. It has not been the marriage I hoped for in some ways, but at least I have not been alone. After all, he gave me four beautiful children."

  "Mother." Marian took her hand and offered her a warm smile. "I will not be alone; do not worry about that. Now, go on to bed and I'll see you on the morrow."

  "As you say; sleep tight, Bright Eyes." She smiled and slowly retreated.

  "God keep you and have sweet dreams," Marian called after her and closed the door.

  "You see," Marian stated as she lit the candle nearest the ingress. "I have no intentions toward Gisborne, save to gain information, and there is something important I learned tonight. Did you hear?"

  Robyn shook her head. "I could only make out muffled sounds, not clear words."

  Marian took her hand and led her to the side of her bed. She sniffed the air making an unpleasant expression.

  "Yes, that's me," Robyn admitted disparagingly. "It was raining and I haven't bathed for some time."

  Amused affection shone on Marian's face. "I would rather have your scent after living in the forest than the rose bath odor of that hideous man any day."

  A smile tugged at the corner of Robyn's mouth as she studied Marian's expression. What is going on behind those dazzling eyes of yours? Robyn wondered, guarding her heart.

  "Back to matters of greater import," Marian said, the timbre of her voice low and serious. "Guy and the Sheriff are planning a trap in which to snare you. They intend to harm villagers in an effort to draw you out since you have become a hero to the poor. Based on your generosity towards them, Nottingham deduced that you would not stand by unmoved while they are being brutalized."

  "God's passion, I will not!" Robyn declared in an angry hush. "When? Which village? I can't let the lousy swine punish innocent people on account of me."

  Marian bit her lower lip and her shoulders drooped. "He didn't say. I am inclined to think soon, but as to where…" Her voice trailed off in disappointment and she plopped down onto the bed.

  Robyn stood beside her, face scrunched up in concentration. "Would it be a village or manor we have already donated to, or another? How would the Sheriff know?" She ran her fingers through her short crop of brown hair. "He would certs have spies. He would go to somewhere we have been."

  Marian reached up a hand and tugged on Robyn's sleeve. "Sit," she requested. "We'll figure it out."

  "Yes, yes," Robyn replied absently as she sat, still focused on the Sheriff's diabolical plot. But her thoughts and emotions stirred as she became keenly aware of Marian's arm slipping around her waist, drawing their bodies together. She looked into those soft, ardent eyes as if floating through a dream.

  "You see, this is why I have to stay here–to keep up with what malevolent exploits the Sheriff is planning, so I can warn you and try to help in whatever small way possible. If I came to Sherwood with you, yes, we could be together, but I would be of little or no use to you or our cause there."

  Robyn licked her lips, her mouth oddly dry. She felt as if she had tiny goldcrests fluttering around in her belly. She turned her eyes to her own dirty hands that rested in her lap. "I thought you were staying here because you need to find a husband." At once she was profoundly aware of Marian's warm presence and the affection emanating from her touch. She sensed the unexpected tenderness of a kiss placed on her cheek, a kiss that lingered heartfelt and moist on her skin.

  Marian's fingers worked at trying to arrange Robyn's hair in some semblance of order while she smiled knowingly. Robyn turned a hesitant gaze to her lovely face, a question in her shimmering brown eyes.

  "I have known for a long time how you feel about me," Marian began. "It is so clear. When you look at me, there is such love in your eyes that no one else has ever shown toward me. I was careful not to reveal the same sentiments to you, lest both our hearts be broken when one of us would have to marry. I have spent years suppressing my emotions, telling myself we can ever only be friends. That is part of why I stayed away at court so long; I thought I would meet a handsome nobleman and what I felt for you would fade." She intertwined her fingers with Robyn's and gave her hand a little squeeze. "It didn't. Still, I was determined to do my duty, to be what society demands, until you came back into my life. Robyn, when you did what you did: when you strode out onto the lawn and faced down the deputy and his guards risking your life to save one of my boys, and you made that miraculous shot striking his arrow from the sky, it was like a sign from God to me. I knew in that instant that I could never settle for anything, for anyone less. I do not pretend to know how to make it work; I only know that I want to spend my life with you, and no one else."

  For an instant, Robyn couldn't breathe. She was sure her heart did not beat and time stood still. Was this not the moment she had dreamt of from her youth? Had she not planned eloquent words of love to proclaim? Had she not written poems to recite? But now that Marian was here beside her, holding her hand, speaking the proclamation of love that Robyn had longed to hear like a thirsty man in the desert longs for a cool drink, she was stunned speechless. She swallowed, remembered to breathe and gave Marian's hand a little squeeze as she eyed her with hopeful anticipation. Robyn was conscious of joyful tears welling spontaneously but was powerless to stop them. Trembling and heart pounding now, she felt the blood pulse through her limbs as if for the first time.

  Then it happened. Marian brought her lips to Robyn's in a gentle kiss, cautious but without reservation. And Robyn kissed her back, slowly at first, still not able to register the experience as dream or reality.

  When Marian leisurely pulled away to look into her eyes, Robyn found she could utter but a few words. "I love you; I have always loved you. Is this real
? Are you really holding me, kissing me? Or is it my imagination?"

  A vibrant smile widened across her face, lighting her eyes and she stroked a hand over Robyn's cheek. "Very real," she stated deliberately. Then her fathomless eyes darkened as she saw the brightness strike in Robyn's countenance. "And I love you, Robyn of Loxley, Robyn of the Hood. I would follow you to the ends of the earth and never care to look back."

  "Marian." Robyn spoke her name like a prayer before returning her lips to their kiss. This time it was longer, deeper, more stoked with passion and need, an urgency that had been building in both of them for a long while. It was several minutes before the mundane demand for air pulled them apart. "I am not sure what to do," Robyn admitted shyly.

  Marian tried to rein in a bemused smile. "Let's start with getting you out of those clothes and wrappings, and see where things go from there, shall we? I think we may be able to feel our way through it."

  Robyn practically melted into a puddle right then and there. She loved Marian, and Marian loved her in return! I could die tomorrow and be completely fulfilled! "I cannot imagine that there has ever lived a woman who was more blissful than I am at this moment." The declaration simply spilled out of her mouth while her body tingled all over.

  Marian replied, joy radiating on her fair face. "Care to test that theory?" And she began unbuttoning Robyn's shirt.

  Chapter Nine

  Sherwood Forest, the next day

  "Today we shall try something more challenging," Gilbert Whitehand stated as he tied two sand-filled burlap bags to a tree branch, one a couple of feet behind the other.

  Robyn held her bow at her side, more tightly strung than when she had begun her lessons, and tried to concentrate.

  "This first bag," he said holding it steady about chest height, "is an innocent villager." He then set the sack in motion, swinging like a pendulum. Stepping back to the second bag, he continued. "This is one of the evil Sheriff's guards about to kill the villager." He gave it a shove such that its swing alternated with the first bag and then stepped aside. "Your task is to miss the villager and hit the guard."