I shook my head, keeping turned away from him and letting my maid tug and pull and tie me. I heard the splash of the water and the sounds of washing, and I felt like I were fair pinned in the corner of the room, unable to move.
The servant sat me on the edge of the bed and brushed what there were of my hair—long bits in front that fluffed about my face, and the short bunches in back that didn’t lay flat. It behaved a bit more for her, and she did some trick with pins and it stayed back, like it were all gathered about the bun that weren’t there anymore.
“Thank you,” I murmured to her.
Gisbourne stood from the bath. “Last chance,” he said before his manservant put the cloth around him. I stayed still, and he laughed at me. I sat on the bed while his manservant dressed him in black velvet, stark and fine against the white of his shirt, his body big and wide and hard with muscle that seemed odd to be dressed in velvet.
I looked away. He weren’t ugly.
Not liking the thought, I went to the window, retrieving my knife when he weren’t looking and hiding it in the back of the shorter overdress.
Finished, he held out his hand and I took it, letting him pull me in front of him. He stared me over, but not the same as when I wasn’t dressed. “Perfect,” he said. “The dress suits you nicely. Now if you just don’t open your mouth, we may be able to pull this off.”
“What is there to pull?” I asked, taking my hand back. “It ain’t as if we’re fixing to steal something from the prince.” I looked at him. “Are you?”
“I’m trying to convince him that you’re a well-bred lady instead of a heathen,” he told me. “It’s a little bit harder than stealing bread.”
“Why should he care?”
“I care. You should care.”
“Why?”
“Christ, you’re little better than a toddler.” Shaking his head, he came toward me till my back hit the wall, and he leaned close to my ear. “You want an annulment, Marian, yes?”
My hand curled around the knife I had hidden, but I nodded.
“Do you know what the only thing is that will allow for our marriage to be annulled?”
My mug went hot and red but I didn’t say nothing to him.
He leaned even closer so his lips touched my ear. “Lack of consummation.”
Stepping back a pace, his eyes went over me in a different way, a way that made me hold my breath because breathing made my chest move too much. Though my heart were hammering hard enough that it might have been a fair exchange, the cloth beating with the pulse of what lay beneath.
“You’ll be a good girl tonight, won’t you?” he told me with a sneer.
He moved away. I looked at the window, at the sliver of dark night I could see, and I turned and followed my husband.
I weren’t full aware of how many nobles had come to Nottingham. The Great Hall were filled to bursting, with huge long tables running the length of it. There were one larger table up on the dais, with fewer seats than the rest.
Gisbourne led me to the royal table and a breath fluttered within me. Were my husband so favored that we would have to eat with these people? Gisbourne did the dutiful bit and pulled out the chair till I swept into it, and pushed it forward for me. I reckoned that the tradition were for the damn weight of the things—I were strong as girls came, but I couldn’t have lifted such a chair.
Seated in the wooden trap that kept me at the table, I stared at the spectacle. There were huge plates of animals in garish display, giant turkeys sitting golden and steaming, platters heaped with cuts of meat the like I’d never seen. Antlers of the stag they had killed were draped with jewels and pearls above the meat from his body. There were a whole table of falsely colored sweets.
Flour. Sugar. Eggs. Game. All this belonged to the people of Nottingham, who were starving while these people fatted themselves.
Horns blared out into the hall while the men stood, welcoming the prince and princess to the table. The prince were meant to look handsome—with his fine clothes, and the certain bearing and surety that handsome men had—but he weren’t. He were more than ten years my elder but he looked like a spoiled, milk-faced boy.
“Welcome, lords and ladies, to the humble supper I have been able to give to you. Please enjoy, and let us first drink to the health and safe return of my brother abroad. To King Richard!” he bellowed.
“King Richard!” we all answered. That I was fair fine with drinking to.
A cup touched mine to my right. I looked and nodded to Winchester. “Your Grace,” I greeted.
“My lady,” he said. A servant stepped between us with an offering of venison stew, and Winchester ladled a bowl for me and then himself. “I am grateful to see you much improved from last night.”
“Last night?” I asked.
“Your lord husband informed me that you weren’t well.”
I looked down. Gisbourne hadn’t cared, but it were close to truth. “No, I wasn’t.”
“My lady,” he said quiet, so much so that I had to lean toward him. “I’m more than aware of your husband’s ungallantries. Should you ever wish for my assistance, you shall have it upon a moment.”