Rob turned and slammed his foot against the nearest stall door. It wrenched with an awful noise, and the whole thing shattered, throwing chunks to the ground and leaving rough pieces hanging on the hinge. Thank God there weren’t no horse in there, or Rob would have been kicked something awful.
The children stopped laughing.
“Go on home,” Much said to them. “We’ll be back again, when you see the ribbon at the well. Be careful.”
John started herding them out, and I crossed my arms. Rob snapped another bit of wood, color moving ’cross his face, wild and harsh. He bent down to grab another piece, and I cursed at him, rushing forward.
I hit the wood from his hands and pushed him, pressing him up against the wall, my hands on his shoulders. It weren’t a fierce grip, not like John might, but it were enough to stop him. “What are you doing?” I snapped.
He pushed up, using my grip against me and moving me back with his shoulders in my hands, powerful and strong but gentle. My back nudged the other wall and he pressed closer, leaning against me. His breath were rough and hot and puffed over my cheek, my ear, my neck.
My hands curled slow around him, drawing him close to me, tight against me. “What are you doing, Rob?” I whispered.
He tucked his face into my shoulder and drew long, shuddering breaths. “We’re not going to make it through this, Scar. Not another sheriff. Not another nightmare.” His voice dropped, and if it weren’t for the way the words slipped along my skin, I would have doubted he spoke them. “I’m not going to make it through this again.”
I sighed against him, trying to think of the right thing to say. “Someone tried to hurt Missy,” I told him soft. He went tense, but I twisted my fingers through his hair to keep him still and silent. “She fought him off. She saved herself.” He looked at me, a tendril of hope like a deep current in his eyes. “We will make it through this, because you aren’t alone. I’m with you, the lads are with you, and now the town is with you. If Missy Morgan can fight a man, we will make it through this.”
“What happened to Missy?” John asked, scowling into the horse stall where Rob and I were twined up against each other like ivy run wild.
“Nothing, and that’s the point,” I told him, pulling from Rob gentle.
Rob caught my hand and held it, tipping it up and pressing a kiss into the palm. He ran his thumb over the big vein there on my wrist, and it rippled through me like a shock.
“I’m going to go to the castle,” I told them. “Thoresby said the prince is coming.”
“I’ll go with you,” John said.
“No, I’ll be well enough. Place is bare guarded now.”
“Save for the knights,” Much said.
I shrugged. “They’re lazy.”
John stared hard at me, even as Rob nodded. “You’ll be all right. Go on so you’re back before nightfall.”
I broke John’s gaze at that.
“Bring us news of the men,” Much said.
Nodding, I said, “You lot headed back to the monastery?”
“You go. Much, will you help me tidy up a bit first?” Rob asked.
Much went to it, and I went for the door.
“You’re not coming back before nightfall, are you?”
Lifting a shoulder, I saw John behind me. “I’ll be back, John.”
He met my eyes, dark and heavy. “Don’t hurry.”
I nodded, swallowing though it hurt my swollen throat. I went out the door and off for the castle, stealing myself some precious time to be alone and think.
Chapter Three
Even if the forest had turned, cold and dark were two things that still had love for me, and by the time I made my purposeful slow way to Nottingham Castle, both had fallen around me like a cloak.
The snow made climbing the castle wall a bit harder; sometimes the rocks were slick where I couldn’t tell, and my hands slipped and tore from the rocks, red and raw and sore. I didn’t mind it much—it seemed the one thing that were still simple, that if I went slow and steady I’d still get what I were after. Like much of the winter in Nottinghamshire, it had tricks up its sleeve, but it weren’t beyond my reach. On the wall, in the wind, high above the earth, I still knew myself and what I were meant for.