CHAPTER Eighteen
The walk were a hundred times longer than it had been the day before. I stayed outside for as long as I could, but as soon as I stepped into the warmth I
felt like I melted with it. I fell against the wall, breathing hard.
Sucking in a deep breath, I pushed off the wall and walked quick through, desperate to get to him. When I came to his hallway, I knew his room by the
guards outside it.
But they weren’t there to keep me out, only keep him in, and they didn’t even look at me as I opened the door and entered.
I shut the door and slumped against it. It were a small room, and Winchester’s wide, tall body were brimming it over. Rob sat on the bed. His shirt were
stripped off in a sweaty heap on the floor with leathers and a tunic besides. His body were glowing red, his mouth drooling with blood, and he held a
balled-up cloth to his face.
His eyes met mine, and the ball in his throat ran up and down. “Scarlet,” he said, soft and rough.
Winchester turned, ducking his head to me. “My lady,” he said. He glanced back to Rob. “I shall leave him in your care—my own healer should be along
shortly.”
Winchester came closer, blocking my body from Rob’s view. “Perhaps,” he whispered, “you should allow him to look at you as well.” His jaw worked. “
I regret that I feel I was protecting the wrong party last night.”
Without much knowing why, I were dangerous close to crying. I shook my head.
He nodded and opened the door. I could hear him telling the guards—his guards, I realized—to allow no one but his healer in.
“Rob,” I whispered. “Are you … are you all right?”
He walked over to me slow, his eyes never leaving mine, and he stood just before me, holding his breath before he touched me. His fingertips touched the
side of my mouth and slid back along my cheek, first one, then three, then four grazing along my skin. His thumb skidded over my lips, dragging my breath
away with it.
My one hand slid up, doing the work for two as it ran slow over his chest, ridges and dips and smooth planes like the forest itself, beckoning me and
tricking me and drawing me in deeper. The bit of hair furring over his chest licked at my fingers as I ran over it, phantom touches along my skin. I hit
smooth skin again and pushed my fingers wide to curl over his shoulder and round his neck, drawing him closer to me.
“Scarlet,” he whispered, staring at me, his eyes checking my face. “What happened last night? You look … you scared the hell out of me when I saw
you. You’re wearing the same dress.”
“You first,” I said, shutting my eyes. I pulled him closer still, waiting until our faces touched, his forehead resting on mine.
“Scarlet,” he said. “You know what happened to me. They’re letting me compete. And by some miracle, they haven’t been cruel to me. Which makes me
think that cruelty has gone elsewhere.”
“I don’t know, Rob. I see you out there, fighting like that, and I don’t know anything about you at all.”
“Scarlet.” His eyes were steady, not thrown off. “You’re shaking.”
I were?
He leaned away a bit. “I frightened you,” he said, and his voice were more low and dark than a well.
“No.” My hand on him turned to a grip as the floor tilted.
He frowned and moved quick, taking me about the waist and pulling me down upon the bed, sitting beside me. His hands on me changed, running through my
hair to check for lumps on my head, pressing my skin to check what were broken. Soon enough he went still, and after a breath gentle fingers went about
the wrist in the sling. Even that touch sent pain like shards of glass through me, and I shook my head, moaning.
“What did they do.”
It weren’t a question. It were dark and angry.
“Rob.”
“No more, Scarlet. Tell me. Now.”
“They punished me,” I said soft. “The prince. He …” I had felt the point of the knife before it touched my skin. Watching it, waiting for it,
knowing the pain were about to come, it were like I made it happen before it really started. How did I tell him that? “Nothing,” I ground out, meeting
his eyes. “He did nothing that I can’t take, nothing that makes me wish I’d done different. And nothing for you to hurt over.”
But Rob kept on, taking my hand and seeing the way it were bandaged, two small fingers and a flat stretch before my thumb with blood starting to seep
through.
His chest started rising and dropping fast, like he couldn’t breathe swift enough and none of it were doing no good. His hands went to fists, pressed
hard on his knees, and then he struck his knees, hard and fast. He bent forward, then sprang up and drove his fist into the wooden post with a cry.
I tried to stand, but my legs couldn’t hold it. “Rob,” I sighed. “Rob, come to me.”
He growled low, kicking the post once, twice, three times in sharp succession.
“Rob,” I said again. “I can’t come to you.”
He turned and came forward, dropping to his knees in front of me. I pulled him closer, feeling the world rock a little less with my hand on him.
He went still, his face a scowl and his eyes on mine. “They did this to you because of me. All of this is because of me.”
I stared into his eyes, unwilling to look away, unable to let him go. “No. The prince did this because he is cruel and jealous and Gisbourne allowed it
because he’s weak. They just gave you the best chance to fight this, Robin Hood. To prevent this from happening to anyone else.”
His big hands spread like fans on my back, tight but gentle. “I can’t do it. I won’t win—not in the shape that I’m in, Scarlet.” His eyes shut and
his forehead pushed against my stomach. “Every hit—every time—it feels like I’m back there. It feels like it’s all starting again.”
“What is?” I whispered. I ran my fingers over his hair, slow and kind. “What is?”
“How much do you know about the Crusades?” he asked. “What I did there?”
“You left after the siege of Acre, didn’t you?” I said.
He didn’t answer me. He swallowed. “The siege was long. It was the first real battle, and Richard couldn’t afford to give up. It took us more than a
month before we first broke Acre,” he said. “For so long a wall had been between us, but then the wall broke, and they flooded out. And we ran.”
I shivered at the picture in my mind—it were all too like the melee, the sudden and unleashed clash of two lines. Chaos.
“I was so afraid of that day—of the crush of war. I didn’t know how I would tell my men from the infidels. Then they ran at us, and I was relieved—
there would be no mistaking one of us for one of them. They looked so very different, they didn’t wear armor of any kind. With the sun glinting off our
metal, it was like God had sent an angel to each of us to shine a light on us, keep us safe. And I found I could fight. I found all my training meant
something; I could fight and never tire, never break.”
One of us were shaking, and I didn’t know who, but it didn’t matter. If one person shook, the other’s body took it in.
“And then the wind rose, and the sand rose with it. They continued to come at us. We were blind, and more than that, the ease was gone. I couldn’t see
who was right in front of my face, much less what they wore.”
His body leaned tighter against mine, careful not to lean on my arm.
“I can’t take this back, Scarlet, once I’ve told you,” he breathed.
“You won’t have to, Rob.” I stroked his head, his neck, his rough cheek.
“The sand cleared,” he said, “as quick as it had come. And at my feet were three men I’d fought beside for months. Three men I knew. One was even
younger than I was. And I had killed them. You all think I’m so noble and goddamn righteous, but I don’t even know who the enemy is. I don’t know who
the enemy is if not the demon that’s within me. Those men, the hostage children I was made to kill—Scar, they haunt me. They haunt my nights and they
remind me daily that even if by some miracle I can win this, I should never be sheriff. I know the weak and evil parts of myself too well.”
It were him what were trembling, and I tugged on his shoulder until he drew up, guiding him to the bed and making him lie in it. He were sweating hard,
and I feared for a fever. I stroked his hair back as it slicked over with sweat. He were staring at me, waiting for what I would say.
Slow, I shook my head. “That isn’t evil, Rob. That isn’t weak. It’s horrible and unfair. But it’s not your fault.” He tried to pull away from me
but I stroked his cheek. “There is so much more in your heart than your ghosts,” I told him. “And in mine too. I don’t care how many sleepless nights
it takes. I don’t care for bruises or fire. I won’t let them take your soul.”
He gave me a tiny hint of a smile and it felt like sunlight breaking on me. “I don’t know if you have much of a say over it.”
“You gave your heart into my keeping, Rob, and I protect what’s mine. Because I know what is in there true, and it has naught to do with demons.” I
bent down, coming closer to his face and letting our lips bare touch. His hand ran into my hair and he pulled me closer for a proper kiss. I felt him
breathe deeper, slower, into me, calming, our souls rushing out to meet.
I broke off, then ducked again for one more touch. “They can’t have you,” I whispered to him. “You’re mine.” I kissed the corner of his mouth.
“And I look at Gisbourne and he don’t know he’s weak. The prince don’t know he’s cruel. But you know your most dangerous parts and you act like a
hero anyway. That’s what will make you a wonderful sheriff, Rob.” I stroked his face. “But if you ever wanted to run, I would run with you. This will
be brutal and punishing, Rob, and if you ever think you can’t fight in true, I will run with you in a breath.”
“I can’t run,” he said. “But I fear I can’t win, either.”
The guards outside spoke to someone, and I sat up straight as the healer came in. He came with a tray of jars and knives, and my lip curled. The monks
disliked the practice because of its weakening effects, but I forgot how common it were for these noble healers.
“No,” I said as he crossed the threshold. “No bloodletting.”
The man’s mouth dropped. “My—my lady, his humours must be brought into balance.”
“Poultices, tinctures are fine. No bloodletting.”
Rob squeezed my hand tight.
The healer’s chest puffed. “With respect, my lady, his Grace instructed me to bring the young man to full health.”
“You bring a knife near his skin and I will have it at your throat,” I snapped.
He went red and started sputtering, but Rob managed a weak chuckle. “Please, my lord, denying her wishes would be much more hazardous to my health.”
“If the lady would remove herself,” the healer said, “I must examine his lordship.”
“I’m no lord,” Rob said. “And I would like you to look at her hand first.”
The man’s eyebrows what were thicker than the feathers of a ruffled chicken rose up, but he didn’t say anything as I drew the hand slow out of the
sling. He unwrapped the wet bandages careful, and when he were done he looked at my face in a way full different than he had before.
He handed me the pain tincture. “Several drops of this should help, my lady,” he said grave.
I shook my head, but Rob sat up, sliding one arm around my waist and taking a dropper full with the other hand. He held it up and I opened my mouth as he
tapped it in. I shut my eyes against the taste and turned full against him as the healer put a salve to the wounds that looked sick already.
It were so raw and sore that his touches hurt more than the cut what did it. To my horror I started to sob, but Rob held me tight, squeezed against him.
When it were done, I were shaking violently and Rob held me, kissing my cheek and temple and hair. “Go on,” he said after a moment. “Rest. You need
it.”
“I’ll come back,” I promised him.
He nodded, kissing my cheek once more.
Careful to walk proper out of the room so Rob wouldn’t worry, I near collapsed outside the door, and one of the guards caught me in his arms. “My lady,
” he said. “His Grace asked me to see you back to your chambers.”
I nodded, fair grateful. It seemed miles back to my room. We started walking and I were more grateful for the earl’s care when I fainted dead in the
hall.
When I woke, it were to a soft, metal noise and the cracking of fire. I were in the bed I didn’t like, and my whole body felt like a sack of flour. I
struggled to sit up in the bed; the day-old dress had been taken off me and I was just in the long, loose gown, deep under blankets and warm.
Gisbourne were near the fire, and I could see the glint of steel as his whetstone passed over the sword, sharpening the blade careful and slow.
“Do you care to tell me where you were this afternoon?” he asked, not turning to me.
“A healer checked my hand.” Which did feel much duller, now.
“The earl’s healer.”
“Yes.”
“And how did you come by that?”
I sighed. “I reckon you know just where I were, Gisbourne.”
The whetstone stopped. “Yes.”
Pushing from the bed were awkward with one hand, but I struggled free of it and went for the other chair by the fire. “Did you win the melee?”
He tossed his sword down so it clattered loud. It were meant to intimidate me, I think, but I were far beyond such. “Does this marriage mean nothing to
you, Marian?”
I frowned at him. “Of course it doesn’t. You knew that from the first.”
“Then why come here at all?” he growled.
“Did you hit your head?” I demanded. “The annulment. All I’ve ever wanted were the annulment.”
“And to make a fool of me!” he roared, throwing himself back in the chair.
“I never lied about what and who I am. You knew that. You brought me here. If I make you a fool, it ain’t my fault.” I tucked my legs up, cold and
simmering with anger. “Fool indeed. But what the hell is wrong with you, that you defy the prince to protect me in one moment—what, so your honor
remains intact?—and then help him cut off my damn fingers the next?”
He stood, scooping up the sword and slamming it into its scabbard and throwing it on the bed. “Because there is one line I won’t cross—and that’s the
whole reason I agreed to this exercise in idiocy to start with. You think you were my first choice, Marian? You think I was desperate to marry Leaford’s
younger, uppity daughter? With an unmarried, beautiful older sister hanging about?”
This stole my breath. “You wanted Joanna?”
“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.”