Lady Thief: A Scarlet Novel

“Wanted? No. Hell no. But why would I take you over her, hmm? She was stunning, graceful, sweet—she would have bent very well to my hand. So why you?”

 

 

My lip curled at the thought of him raising a hand to Joanna. “You never wanted either of us from the start. You wanted Isabel. It’s obvious every time you look at her, Gisbourne—”

 

“Use my given name!” he screamed. He stepped over to me, catching my throat, but not squeezing, not hurting me. “Say it,” he said. “Say my given name. You are my wife, Marian. Use my given name.”

 

With unblinking eyes, I stared at him. I had lost fingers to his master; his threats seemed hollow and idle now.

 

He shook his head with a sad, helpless laugh. His hand left my throat to catch my cheek, looking at the fading bruises there. His rough, calloused thumb ran over the cut by my lip. “You won’t, will you? I can beg you and break you and you won’t do a damn thing I ask.”

 

It seemed wise not to answer that.

 

His thumb went to the scar, testing it, feeling its depth and the odd jumble of skin and scar under the surface. “You are the most unnatural, vexing woman, Marian.” He tilted my chin farther up. “You didn’t scream once last night.”

 

“I told you,” I said quiet. “I’m not afraid of your pain. Or his.”

 

His thumb ran over my mouth, and I went tense. “I am,” he admitted. “But it’s his bribes that are so much darker and alluring.”

 

“Is that why you married me, Gisbourne?” I asked. “He bribed you?”

 

He nodded, and my breath left me.

 

“Why?” I asked. “Why would he ever? How would he know of me at all?”

 

His hand left my face. “You’re like a wild horse, Marian. Utterly untamable, unassailably noble. No—not a horse.” He chuckled and looked at me. “A lion,” he said. “And you are the fool in truth if you don’t know what that means. Why it is the one thing that means the prince can’t kill you and the one reason he will always want to. Why you are dangerous to him.”

 

“Eleanor said he can’t kill me because he has royal blood. Godly blood.”

 

His grin was wicked and dark. “I can’t kill you, Marian, and I have no royal blood. Hell, I barely count as noble. But to kill you would be to defy God himself—not to mention Eleanor.”

 

“I don’t understand.”

 

He laughed, and I stood.

 

“Tell me! I don’t know what you’re talking about!” My voice raised dangerous close to a shriek.

 

He began stripping off his clothing, not answering me.

 

“Gisbourne!” I yelled again.

 

“Your parents have come to the castle,” he said after a moment, stripping off his tunic. “They expect an audience with you tomorrow morning.”

 

“My …” I dropped into the chair. My parents. I had been so long gone from them it seemed easy not to think of them at all. A thousand thoughts twisted through my mind. Did they hate me? Were it all forgotten and forgiven now I had done what they first asked? How would I explain leaving them at the first?

 

Christ, how would I explain Joanna?

 

He chuckled. “I thought that might shut you up.”

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter Nineteen

 

 

When I woke up, Gisbourne were sleeping and there were early, gray sun in the room. I called for Mary and when she set about pulling fabric round the bandaged hand, she stopped but didn’t say nothing. Gisbourne grunted and sat up in bed, watching me and yelling for Eadric.

 

My head were running fast, thinking on my parents. What would I say? How could I possibly say anything? What if my parents wanted to know—anything. Everything.

 

“You’re quiet,” Gisbourne said.

 

How much time had passed? I weren’t sure. He were dressed. I realized Mary weren’t flitting about, and I were dressed too. “Thinking,” I said.

 

He went to his coffers, shuffling through until he found something. It were a long, black-sheathed boot knife. He drew it half out and showed me a wicked-looking blade. He pushed it back in the sheath and tossed it to me. I caught it and looked at it; I couldn’t even draw it out of the sheath the way my hand were bandaged, so I just stared at him.

 

“Does that help?” he said.

 

Silent, I nodded slow.

 

He nodded once, sharp. “Good.”

 

And then he left.

 

I wedged it into the edge of my kirtle in the back, hoping it would hold snug enough that I could pull just the blade with one hand. Not that I expected to draw a knife on my parents; having it near me, a reminder of who I really were, helped in true.

 

It were strange both that Gisbourne knew it and allowed it.

 

I went out behind him, starting for my parents’ chamber. Sucking in a breath, I changed my mind.

 

I went to Rob’s room, and the guards let me in without a word or a harsh look. He were awake, lying in bed, and he half sat up, looking at me.

 

“Scarlet,” he murmured.

 

I came forward without a word, tucking myself into the bed beside him. I laid on his chest and shut my eyes, trying to wish the world away. His heartbeat were leaping out at me, beating into my skin till my heart beat back, matching the tune.

 

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