Bound By Honor: An Erotic Novel of Maid Marian (27 page)

“Mayhap I should tell you my great secret first,” said Alys. “And then you will know you can trust me.”

Marian looked at her with interest, but remained silent as her friend spoke again.

“There are few who know that I am the queen’s half niece. As such, we have a rather close relationship, as she appreciates the fact that we are secretly bound by blood . . . and that she can trust me. She oft speaks—or writes, as the case may be—of you,” Alys said, crushing dried leaves into a small pot of water drawn from the steaming cauldron. “You are well-thought-of in her mind.”

And the queen was well aware of the propensities of her youngest son. Marian considered, but in the end decided to be safe. “ ’ Tis a suitor of mine who is more than a bit too . . . ardent,” she explained. “I do not wish to offend him, but nor do I wish to spend the night in his bed. I thought mayhap to find a delicate way to deny him.”

Alys placed the small pot over the fire, removing the larger cauldron, and glanced at Marian sidewise. “The prince?”

Marian let out a small huff of surprised laughter. “What do you mean?”

The little blond woman spewed out her own puff of air, blowing up the wisps of hair that had fallen into her eyes from her braid. Her sky blue eyes rolled. “I may appear young and naive, Marian, but I am not. ’Tis obvious by the way he looks at you that he lusts for you . . . and if I had not suspected, the conversation yester-morrow in regards to the prince’s festivities would have told me so. The expression on your face made it known to me that you did not welcome his advances.”

“ ‘Advance’ is a weak word to describe the truth,” Marian admitted. “ ’ Tis well near force.”

“Then use this well,” Alys told her, turning to strain the infusion into a small bottle. “There is little taste to it, so he will not notice if you add it to his wine. But it takes some time to work, so you must administer it early and be patient.” She continued and gave Marian instructions for dosage. “It will cause him no harm, so you may use it without fear.”

“I cannot thank you enough,” Marian said, hoping she had not been wrong to trust the woman.

“You are loyal to the queen, and that is all the gratitude I need. She has been very kind to me and I owe her much more than simple fealty.” Alys looked at her steadily. “I know why you are here, Marian. If there is aught I can do to assist, you have only to ask.”

Did she know of her mission for Eleanor, then? Marian looked at her and their eyes met again. Aye. She knew of it. Or something.

“In fact, I have received word that she expects to arrive within the next sennight. Or sooner,” Alys added, looking at her meaningfully. “I’ve journeyed with her often enough to know how quickly she travels.”

“Indeed,” Marian said. “I’ve heard that even her men cry for rest before she does.”

“She will allow for little delay; of that you can be certain.”

Marian nodded, feeling more optimistic. She thanked her again and sent for Bruse to have her palfrey saddled. While he did that, she took the tisane, secreting it in her chamber.

When she returned to the bailey, Bruse and another of her men were waiting, and they followed her as she rode out through the portcullis. In the distance, beyond the village, she saw the preparations being made for the next day’s archery contest. Shaded stands were being erected in a large, grassy field for the nobles and ladies in front of an area that had been cleared for the competition.

She had no doubt that this contest was merely a way to entrap Robin Hood, for he simply would not be able to resist the prize of a golden arrow—nor, more importantly, the opportunity to be proclaimed the best archer in Nottinghamshire and beyond. And though she was certain he wouldn’t heed her warning, Marian meant to put a message in the hollow oak advising him of this. But since she expected he would dismiss it, she had her own plans to keep him from being captured and tossed into the gaol.

She and her men rode briskly along the road to the fork where the large boulder sat, and when they were nearly there, she sent them to wait behind her where they would be close enough that she could call for assistance, but far enough away that they would not see what she did. Although she trusted them with her life, she was fully aware that aiding an outlaw was considered treasonous . . . and by keeping them in ignorance, she protected them as well.

Leaving her palfrey tied to a tree near the road, Marian approached the oak, moving quietly into the forest.

She found the place Robin had told her about with no difficulty, and tucked the small piece of foolscap deep inside. Just as she turned to walk back to her horse, she heard a soft rustle and the low murmur of voices deeper in the wood.

Curiosity niggled at her, and Marian could not resist. She moved silently through the forest, taking care to step only on the thick covering of pine needles, which muffled any sound, and to avoid sticks and bushes. The ability to move thus was a skill she’d learned long ago, when she sneaked after the fostering boys at Mead’s Vale and spied upon them. When she heard the voices clearly enough to recognize that they belonged to two men who were speaking in low rumbles, she crouched and peered around a tree.

Will sat atop his massive black horse in the midst of a dark, thick section of the wood. The trees grew so close here that little sunlight reached the ground. Leaves and pine boughs created a canopy above Will’s head, but he stood unfettered and fully in view in the middle of the shadowy forest.

At first, Marian thought he must be alone, and that his companion—or whomever he’d been talking to—had gone. But then she heard a murmured reply filtering from somewhere, and she looked up into the trees.

Robin?

Robin and Will were talking, there in the midst of the forest?

Or had Will chased the outlaw deep into the wood, and now Robin sat high in a tree, taunting the sheriff from his perch?

Marian strained to hear their conversation, but just then, Will gave a loud disgusted sound and wheeled his horse sharply about. He slammed his heels into the destrier’s side, and with a great leap, they began to bound toward her. Heart in her throat, Marian stumbled back, out of the warhorse’s path, and ducked behind a fallen tree. She tripped over the huge trunk, tumbling onto the other side and landing in a pile of gown and kirtle.

Worried that Will had heard her ungainly escape, she pulled herself up and peered over the top of the trunk, half-expecting him to come galloping over to yank her out from her hiding place. But he barreled on past, and she watched him go with another worry; he might not have found her, but if he kept on in that direction, he would see her horse and mayhap her men.

Marian scrambled up and began to run, not back on the route from which she’d come, but at a slightly different angle. Will would certainly come back into the forest, looking for her, and she wanted to be as far from this place where he’d been with Robin as possible.

She also wanted time to think about what she’d seen: Will and Robin, talking in the middle of the wood.

Had they met intentionally, and Robin taken the opportunity to taunt Will from his place in the tree? Or had it been happenstance, and the sheriff had once again allowed the outlaw to slip through his fingers? That hardly seemed to be the case, since Will had left first. But even so, she suspected that the sheriff would be less than pleased to know she’d witnessed their dealings.

She tripped and fell once because she wasn’t watching the ground, so worried was she that Will might come bursting through the wood upon her. Pulling herself back up, Marian realized her veil had been torn from her hair somewhere along the way, and that branches had pulled tendrils from her thick braids. Her skirts were soiled and she was out of breath by the time she heard what she’d been expecting: the bellow of her name, and the dull thud of hooves on the forest floor.

Pausing to catch her breath, she smoothed her hair and her skirt and tried to appear as if she were merely examining a growth of moss on the side of one tree. She’d seen one of the healers use moss to pack a wound once—

“Marian!”

She forced herself to look mildly surprised to see him, but it was difficult when faced with the dangerous black figure before her. The warhorse pawed and pranced as Will drew him up and around, coming toward her.

“Madwoman!” he thundered. “What do you here alone? Was not one attack by outlaws enough for you? Do you
wish
to be taken off and assaulted?”

“Nay, of course I do not,” she shouted back, startled into anger. However she had expected their next meeting to be after the events of the night before, this was not a scene she would have imagined. “My men are nearby, in fact. They will like be coming to my aid, for they’re certain to hear how you have attacked me thus.” Her voice had calmed and now bore a tinge of disdain.

“Or mayhap you simply troll through the wood in hopes of meeting Robin Hood,” he continued furiously, as if she’d never spoken, his voice infused with venom. He took little care to keep the destrier from pawing and snorting, fairly atop her in his close proximity.

If she did not know how well he controlled his horse, she might be frightened enough to step back from the four-legged beast, but Marian was not about to show any further weakness. Instead, she stood her ground and glared up at him, hardly able to accept that only last night he’d been sliding in and out of her body, making her cry and writhe with pleasure.

“I presume this is yours?” His fist whipped out and she saw that he was holding a scrap of blue ribbon.

Marian looked at it, immediately recognizing the bit of fabric. She hadn’t even noticed the narrow trim was missing, but quickly realized where she must have lost it: in the cave where she and Robin had . . . been . . . two days ago.

And Will had found it. And made . . . the right . . . conclusion. She grimaced.

“In the future,” he continued as the sound of more dull hoofbeats came pounding, “I suggest you find a safer place than the middle of the forest to search for your lover. ’Tis foolish to wander where any might see or find you.”

Before she had the chance to reply, Bruse and Fargus burst into view brandishing their swords as they galloped up.

“Hold!” she shouted, raising her hands to stop them. The last thing she needed was for them to attack the sheriff. Although ’twould likely be an overmatched battle, with the sheriff and his warhorse coming out the victors.

“Lady?” Bruse asked, slightly out of breath, eyeing the sheriff warily. He moved toward her, maneuvering his horse adeptly between his mistress and Will.

Marian thought she saw a glint of approval in the sheriff ’s eyes as his mount flared his nostrils furiously, but it disappeared.

Instead, he asked, “Is this yours?” Dangling the ribbon from a dark hand, he caught her with his dark eyes, his gaze piercing her coldly.

He wanted confirmation that she’d been in the cave with Robin, and by the saints, she’d give it to him. “Aye.” She walked easily past Bruse and reached to pluck it from his fingers. “I had no idea I’d lost it. Many thanks for returning it.”

“Mayhap next time, you’ll take better care not to leave evidence of your presence languishing about. It could be dangerous to you.”

“More dangerous than the Sheriff of Nottinghamshire?” she asked pertly. “That I cannot fathom.”

He scowled at her well-placed barb, then wheeled his mount and started off toward the keep without another word. She watched him go, admiring his easy grace in the saddle . . . and the width of his shoulders, the thick dark hair that just brushed them, the powerful thighs that clamped around the warhorse.

And she wished that he were not the man she knew him to be.

CHAPTER 13

T
he day of the archery contest dawned gray and wet, and showed no inclination toward changing into more pleasant weather. Droplets glittered in the morning light and gray drizzle cooled the air as the sun rose behind smoky clouds. Nevertheless, the competition would commence just after the midday meal in the hall, for John would not be denied his pleasure—for the match, nor for springing his trap upon Robin Hood.

After coming upon Marian in the forest the day before, Will had returned to the keep and managed to keep the prince occupied, distracted with his plans to capture Robin Hood the next day. They’d plotted, drinking wine, throughout the evening and into the night before John sought his bed. This gave Will a needed reprieve and, he supposed, Marian a quiet night.

Unless Locksley had found his way into the keep and her chamber.

Better him than Will. At the least, she would welcome the outlaw.

His jaw tight, he dismissed those thoughts and turned his attention to the archery contest. Will knew that Locksley would be unable to resist the challenge to attend the competition, and that he would win the contest. There was no one in the county who had the same skill with a longbow; hence, John had made the prize too rich for the man to pass up. A gold arrow, which could be melted down to share among the poor Locksley made such a show of protecting, would be an irresistible lure.

Though he didn’t sit at the high table during the midday meal, Will could not help but search for Marian, as if to ascertain whether she looked rested . . . or not . . . after her night away from the Court of Pleasure.

But he didn’t see her. Instead, no sooner had he left the hall and strode outside than Marian’s master-at-arms accosted him in the rain-dampened bailey.

His ruddy face appeared strained, and his eyes were lit with worry. The man gave a little bow, just enough to show respect but nothing more. “My lord sheriff,” said the man. “I do no’ wish to trouble you now, but I bear bad tidings.”

“What is it?” Will asked, actually stopping in his tracks
.

“My lady . . . she is gone. She ha’ said she willn’t stay in Ludlow any longer and she ha’ gone. . . .” Here the man’s voice dropped low and he glanced around, then back to Will. “She ha’ gone to that Robin Hood. She claims she will be safer there, though I cannot trow how it could be safe . . . being wi’ a bandit in the woods.”