CHAPTER Twenty-Four
I woke feeling warm and borderless, like my pulse had flooded the surface of the skin, dissolving it, meeting Rob’s and melting us together. Blankets
were tucked round us, and his heart were beating beneath my ear, taking my heartbeat and echoing it back.
Blinking, I looked up at him. I hadn’t slept long; only when I thought of the beginnings of a plan and Rob were snoring quiet did I drift off in his
arms. It weren’t yet full light out, but the sky were starting to glow and he were sleeping. Still. He’d fallen asleep before me and hadn’t woken. I’
d have known if he’d woken.
He slept the night through.
I looked at Rob, tempted to slide back into the bed with him, warm on warm, skin on skin. He stirred, and stretched, and looked at me where I stood with
his sleepy eyes looking half drunk as he looked at me. It made heat rush over my skin, and I sat on the edge of the bed.
He half rolled over, his arm catching my waist as he beckoned me down to kiss him. I did, shy and soft.
After a moment that felt like a slow, dizzy whirl against his mouth, he broke the kiss, stroking my cheek. “Go get annulled,” he told me. “Do you want
me to come with you?”
I frowned, tempted. “No. I imagine he wouldn’t take to that well.”
“Well, by all means, let’s keep him happy and kick him out after,” he said. He smiled then, like something just came to mind. “I love you,” he told
me.
I smiled, desperate to keep tears out of my eyes. “I love you too.”
“Good. Get on with it; let’s make you an honest woman for once.” He rolled back in the bed, grinning at me.
I stood, smiling at him over my shoulder. “I ain’t never going to be honest, Robin Hood.”
He laughed out loud. “Have I ever told you you’re a terrible liar? Truly. You’re awful. Thief I’ll never argue with, but liar?”
I were shocked. “I kept enough secrets from you, didn’t I?”
He shrugged. “Not saying things and lying about them are very different.”
Shaking my head, I couldn’t help but laugh. “That weren’t what you said when you first found out.”
“Get on,” he told me, smiling.
“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.
Which, if needed, I were sure would be formidable in her hands.
Her severe face folded when she saw me, breaking into a smile. “My dear,” she greeted. I saw one of her ladies cut me a glare for the endearment, but
Eleanor didn’t care who knew of her like of me. She came to me and hugged me, and one of the women made a sound that sounded much like I had punched her
in the belly.
“My lady Eleanor,” I greeted. “Can I attend you in any way?”
“Yes,” she said. She gestured with her cane to a lush fur cloak, and I picked it up from the coffer, draping it carefully on her shoulders. It attached
with a long string of sapphires the size of my fist. “Oh,” she said. “That reminds me. I saw this piece and thought of you,” she said, casting about
for it.
The lady who served us wine the night before handed her what looked like folded velvet. Eleanor nodded her thanks and slowly peeled back the layers of
velvet.
It were the largest moonstone I’d ever seen, surrounded by small emeralds, strung on a long silver chain. It stole my breath. “There’s quite a bit
more green in it than your eyes, but I think the comparison stands,” she said. She lifted the chain and slid it easily over my head, and the jewel sank
down to sit between my breasts.
I picked it up, marveling. My mouth were dry. “E-Eleanor,” I stuttered.
She lifted my chin with her knuckles. “Not a word, my dear. It’s quite unbecoming to challenge a gift from a queen.”
Water pricked at my eyes, and I nodded. “Thank you,” I whispered, terrified of crying in front of her.
“You’re welcome. An early Christmas gift.”
I couldn’t care about jewels and finery, but it were her careless generosity what squeezed round my heart. She thought of me. Something reminded her of
my eyes. I flung my arms around her, not minding the pain in my hand to do it. “Stay,” I said to her ear. “Please. Stay here.”
“Oh,” she said in my ear, and the noise sounded twisted and caught. “Oh, my girl, I wish I could. I will return. Very soon, as soon as I can. Things
in London are … tense. John’s going and I cannot leave him … well, unattended.” She pulled back and pressed my face in her hands. “But you will be
welcomed as soon as I convince you to come to London. And we will see each other soon.”
I nodded, gulping fast to keep from pouring out water like a spout. “I will come to London. Soon. I fear I may need your help with something.”
She smiled. “You shall have it.”
She took my hand and I gripped hers in return.
“Come,” she said. “Walk me to my carriage.”
Nodding again, I took her arm, and the servants made way for us to move.
Eleanor’s ladies were flapping orders, their arms flying like bird wings as they said this should go there, that there. Eleanor ignored it all as we
walked together to the open carriage door. “You will write to me, of course?”
“If you wish.”
“I do. I like a healthy correspondence.”
We crossed the open courtyard, and I laughed to see Much and John stumbling from the Great Hall, long-eyed with sleep. They must not have made it to the
barn at all.
“Your friends?” she asked.
I nodded. “As close as I’ve ever had to brothers.”
Much tripped and John caught him, and Eleanor chuckled. “It seems we are leaving Nottingham in very good hands.”
We were at the coach, and she embraced me once more. “I hope so,” I told her.
“I cannot say I regret your discovery, my dear, but I do wish it had happened in less dramatic fashion.”
I frowned. “Do you? You had plenty of opportunity to tell me, and you never said a word.”
She lifted a shoulder. “Well. I do wish you never found out at all. The secret matters less now that Richard is king, and married, but secrets are often
better for staying such.” She smiled. “But now you know. And I’m not upset.”
“Neither am I,” I told her.
“Good. Good-bye, Lady Marian,” she said, her voice tripping a bit. “We shall speak soon.”
She swallowed and gave me a weak, fond smile, and she took her footman’s hand to climb into the carriage.
I crossed my arms around myself, trying to work out how to say good-bye to her, when a scream rang out.
My head jerked, then whipped back to John and Much. They were still in the courtyard, unharmed, looking toward the gauntlet to the lower bailey.
Everyone were. “Protect the queen!” I yelled at her guards. They flung open the carriage door to take her inside and I took off running, skating over
the wet, heavy snow with a pounding heart to see what had happened. People were blocking the door to the gauntlet, but I wedged between them even before
John started heaving people aside.
I broke through and slipped, slamming into the ground on the walkway of the gauntlet, soaking my dress in snow. My vision swam, and I rolled to look up
as I tried to suck in a breath.
His feet were first. The boots that I knew too well, too still and limp, a cloak licking around them like the tongue of a hell hound. The snap of the
fabric were the only sound I could hear. His arms were heavy and straight, his body fully kitted up in black. A rope, wrapped tight to the wall of the
guard’s walkway above the gauntlet, were wrapped tight around his neck, causing the skin around it to be purple and thick.
Gisbourne’s whole face looked swollen and dark, his eyes overwide, glaring at me, accusing me.
I couldn’t breathe. I didn’t move, still in the snow, numb and unaware. I didn’t hear a sound. I didn’t see a soul. Just him, hanging there, looking
at me.
You were mine, Marian, long before you even knew he existed. Your unassailable loyalty and unshakeable belief should have been for me.
The wind twisted the body a bit, and I saw his hands bound behind him. He twisted back, and his eyes were on me still.
Sudden and desperate I moved, rolling onto my hands and knees to retch. Nothing came, but I kept heaving, my body in deep revolt, trying to purge it all
from me.
Arms caught me up, pulling me off the ground, and it were Rob, and the world suddenly lurched back into reality. John and Much seemed to be guarding me,
keeping people away, and Rob hugged me tight to him, shouting orders to get Gisbourne down, call for the guards who had been on watch, call for the girl
who had seen him first.
“Scarlet,” he said to me. “Scarlet, speak to me.”
I sucked in a breath, and my insides didn’t try to heave it back out. I nodded. “Rob,” I said. “Who did this?”
“I don’t—” he started, and then a roar could be heard over the crowd.
“Everyone back,” Rob ordered, pulling me up through the door to the upper bailey. “I don’t want anyone going in there,” he said.
“It was her!” yelled a voice. The crowd parted, and Rob shifted me behind him as the prince strode forward, throwing a finger at me. John and Much
flanked Rob, defending me.
“My lord prince,” Rob said, bowing to him. “With deference to your Highness, there is no possible way it was Lady Leaford. He was thrown over the
wall, and Lady Leaford likely couldn’t have lifted his weight in any situation, but her hand has been severely injured. One-handed, it’s impossible
that she could have overpowered him in any way. It wasn’t her.”
Winchester, de Clare, and the other nobles were filling the courtyard. “What’s happened?” Winchester asked.
“Lord Leaford has been killed,” Rob said.
Winchester’s face folded, angry and confused. “And you accuse Lady Leaford?” Winchester asked the prince.
The prince strode forward. “Yes.”
“Your Highness, there’s no proof—” Rob continued, stepping forward like he meant to keep the prince from me.
“I saw her.”
Rob’s throat worked, and my heart dropped. He was a sworn servant of the Crown now; he couldn’t refute Prince John’s word without revoking his new-
promised oath. Without giving up the office of sheriff.
“You have the word of a prince of England,” Prince John continued. “I command you to hang her as guilty of murder. The murder of her husband, no less,
a most heinous crime.”
Rob rocked back, and my heart broke. I knew Eleanor would never let John kill me, but Rob wouldn’t trust that. Kill me, or give up being sheriff. Hand
the position over to someone the prince would appoint, undo all we’d done. Or kill me.
“Your Highness—” Rob started, his voice rough.
“Do it!” the prince screamed.
I cast about the crowd for Eleanor. She were the only one who could intercede now, and I couldn’t find her. Damn—the guards probably still had her
inside. She would never let him do this. I just needed time before Rob were forced to decide.
“Do it, or I will strip you forthwith of your office,” Prince John growled. “And you will be punished as a traitor to the Crown.”
Death.
Gisbourne’s voice floated over the aether to me from the bailey. He will make you pay for this, Marian.
This were Prince John’s plan—not to kill me, but to take the position back from Rob. He never planned to let us escape from this, never planned to let
Rob stay sheriff. And he killed Gisbourne to make it happen.
But I wouldn’t let him haunt Rob again. I wouldn’t make Rob choose between his life and mine.
I knew he wouldn’t hesitate. Given the chance, he would kill Rob. There were only one person here he wouldn’t kill. No matter how much he wanted to, no
matter what people saw or thought, Eleanor would never forgive him my death, and losing her love were something he wouldn’t risk. I were sure of it.
I slid the knife from my back, stepped to the side of Rob, and lunged.