“Yes, Sheriff,” I told him with a curtsy. He laughed at me as he lay in the bed, and I stood in the door a moment, remembering him. Every bit of him. Committing it all to memory where it wouldn’t never be taken from me, wouldn’t never tarnish or fade.
I went quick to the chapel. The castle priest were there, the very man what wed me, preparing for the morning mass, and he stopped. “My lady Leaford?” he questioned.
Genuflecting before the altar, I crossed myself and looked up at him. “Father, will you counsel me?”
“Of course, child.”
He came from the altar down to the pews, seating me in one and sitting beside me. I sucked in a deep breath, and he covered my hands. I nodded once, but the words didn’t come.
“What troubles you, child?”
“My marriage,” I told him. “My husband.”
His hand touched my cheek, looking on the bruises. “He treats you ill.”
“No. Well, yes, but that isn’t why I came to you.”
“No?”
“My husband had much to gain by our marriage. He were elevated, and he gained my lands and my tenants. He has mistreated me, he has threatened to mistreat those dependent on our land, and he has not performed his duty as a husband.”
“Duty?” he asked. “You mean, in all this time, he has not consummated the marriage?”
I shook my head slow. “Do I have any recourse in the eyes of the Church?” I asked.
He drew a breath. “The most solemn duty of a husband and wife is to bear fruit,” he said. “If he finds himself incapable, you can both petition the Church to have your marriage dissolved.”
“He will never agree to it. The marriage is wholly to his advantage,” I said.
He nodded slow. “It is possible, but unlikely. An archbishop would be able to do such, but they tend to be persuaded by none but the highest nobility.”
If you embrace who you are, you might find a great many tools at your disposal.
Eleanor’s words flooded back to me as relief broke like a wave in my chest, and I found myself leaking tears in the chapel for the second time in far too few days.
“Oh, my dear,” the priest said, pulling me into his arms. “I’m so sorry. But God will never abandon you to your darkest hour,” he told me soft.
I weren’t able to tell him that I were thrilled, not heartbroken, so I cried in his arms as the sun climbed higher, pouring in through the stained glass windows, casting the place in shimmering red light.
A princess of England could sway an archbishop. I were the daughter of the Lionheart, the granddaughter of Eleanor of Aquitaine, and if all that stood between Rob and me were learning to speak a bit better and looking the part of a lady, I would learn whatever I had to.
Marian had her future taken from her by the will of others—the Leafords, Gisbourne, even Prince John. And Scarlet were locked in Sherwood, unable to be with Rob, unable to have a future at all. But I could become more than a silly lady or a lowly thief—I would be a princess of England, and I would use it to steal back the right to my own heart.
I went slow to my chambers, steeling my will. When I rounded the corner there I saw two guards in the earl’s colors.
“Milady,” they greeted.
“Gentlemen.”
Standing before the door, I stared at it many long moments. It didn’t change what was on the other side of it, waiting for me. I crossed myself, and I prayed. That my bravery would hold through the coming storm. I had my hope; I would be every inch the noble lady I needed to be if it meant thwarting him. And I would dispatch the sheriff—my sheriff—to protect the Leaford lands from Gisbourne if I needed to. He wouldn’t win. I would never let him.
“He’s not in, my lady,” one guard said gentle.
“What?”
“He left last night and he hasn’t returned.”
I opened the door.
The chamber were empty.
Relief and rage bubbled up in me. Were this a trick? A game? Had he left for Leaford already? If he suspected or knew where I’d been the night before, God only knew how he’d react.
I called for Mary, and she changed my dress in silence.
Perhaps he were drinking somewhere. Surely that didn’t count against me.
Feeling along the shutter, I took the last knife I’d hidden there and slid it into my bodice.
I stood in the chamber for a long time, adding a log to the fire to stoke it up, shivery fear climbing inside me with every breath that failed to bring him to our chamber.
Something were desperately wrong, and I didn’t know if it were good for me or not.
Time slid by and the sun rose higher. I knew I couldn’t miss Eleanor, but I didn’t dare risk Gisbourne’s wrath. Finally I told Mary to wait for my husband in the chamber and tell him I were attending the queen.
With a shaking sigh, I left the chamber and made for Eleanor’s. It were hard to miss; servants were swarming in lines like ants, carrying out her coffers, her furs, the things she would need in the carriage. She were in the center of it all, her hands poised on a bejeweled cane like it were a weapon.