Bound By Honor: An Erotic Novel of Maid Marian (29 page)

Tension rose within him, and Will realized his fingers had closed into tight fists. By the bloody cross, he did not need this to contend with. ’Twas bad enough trying to keep John from sniffing between Marian’s legs. Now he would seek to punish her for consorting with England’s most wanted outlaw. He could not even fathom what John would inflict upon her. And there would be naught he could do to stop him that would not involve treason.

The second round of arrows flew. Locksley’s hit his target squarely in the center and then the man-at-arms’s bolt lodged closer to the center than his last effort. Will watched as Marian stepped up to let her second arrow go, and he realized he was holding his breath.

He made himself release it, but watched the bolt whiz through the air. It lodged nearly atop the previous one, in the dead center of the target.

By the rood, not only was Marian in the final three; she was winning. Was that Locksley’s plan? Or did he mean only for her to be a distraction?

Will glanced at the outlaw, who seemed to be standing straighter now, and no longer affected an awkward stance. One might imagine that he was annoyed with his lover’s skill. That thought did make Will smile, although the humor faded almost immediately.

If Marian won, John would surely recognize her when he awarded her the golden arrow. Would she then escape, returning to the forest with Robin Hood? That would seal her fate in the eyes of the prince.

But surely she would not be foolish enough to reveal her relationship with Locksley. Will relaxed marginally. He must credit her for her intelligence. She wasn’t that much of a fool.

 

 

Marian sensed the moment Will recognized her, for from the corner of her eye she saw him tense completely, drawing himself even taller in his saddle. It appeared he was not terribly pleased with her ruse.

She was surprised he’d seen through her disguise. The large, soft cap that sat on her head covered her bright, bundled hair, and she had affixed black horsehair to its edges to create the appearance of black locks. A bit of dirt on her face to darken her skin, men’s clothing, and taking care not to lift her face too often or too far had helped keep her identity a secret.

Since he had recognized her, she hoped he wouldn’t do anything about it. Or, if he did, he would not do so until she was awarded the arrow.

But Will’s reaction was naught compared with that of Robin’s. Marian had to bite the inside of her lip to keep it from twitching at the annoyance that blasted from his stance. She was fairly certain that he had not yet recognized her, for she had taken care to remain at a distance from him, with her face averted. But whether he had or had not, ’twas clear that he did not enjoy meeting up with a longbowman—or woman—as skilled as he was.

Or more so.

Marian realized with a start that it was her turn for the last shot. She had purposely not looked at the other targets during this round, so she was not aware of how well she was doing against her competitors . . . but Robin’s demeanor suggested that someone, at least, was challenging him.

Stepping up to the archer’s position, she pulled one of Tesh’s arrows from her quiver. She’d warned Robin that the wood-worker from Mead’s Vale made the best, straightest, and fleetest of arrows in England, and she was about to prove yet again that she could hit her target with them.

The bolt felt familiar and steady, and she took her time, aiming through the misty air. The target sat at the tree line, with the dark forest looming behind it, its red painted circle already host to two of her bolts.

Will’s gaze bored into her back, right between her shoulders, but she couldn’t let that bother her. She pretended that the target was John’s raging red cock, then closed her eyes and let the arrow fly.

When she opened them, it was over and the crowd was cheering. Marian looked at her target and saw that her third shot had landed precisely where she intended it—in the center of the target. Her three arrows created a small triangle in the dead middle of the small circle. She glanced over at the other targets for the first time, but found that she didn’t need to—for Lord Beghely, the man who’d led the three judges, had turned toward her, congratulations in his expression.

Delight coursed through her. She’d won! As Lord Beghely approached, she looked over toward Robin and saw that he was staring at her with a shocked expression. Clearly he was only now recognizing her. Marian swallowed a giggle. She’d told him she wished to challenge him—and he’d belittled her chances. Now she’d won the match in full view of all. Although no one else would ever know it was Marian of Morlaix who earned the golden arrow, Robin would. And that was enough for her.

Before Marian could bask any longer in the knowledge that she’d bested Robin Hood, Will’s large black horse pranced into view. After a brief congratulations, Lord Beghely stepped back with the sheriff’s approach. Marian looked up into Will’s face and couldn’t help the twitch of a proud smile as their eyes met.

As usual, he bore only a staid expression—one that could be called forbidding, in this case. Could he not see the humor in the situation just this once? He knew Robin of Locksley as well as she did; he must know that the man’s pride would be bruised. Or perhaps that wasn’t what annoyed him. Maybe Robin’s humbling was nothing compared with what he saw as the outrage of a woman besting a man?

But how absurd! Marian thrust away her moment of glory and realized how foolish she was being. There had been one reason and one reason only for this archery contest—she was smart enough to realize it had been a trap for Robin Hood. And he had indeed attended, and now he was to be captured.

Unless her ruse would sufficiently distract and confuse people from being able to do so successfully.

Yet, before she could speak, the sheriff said, “So you have won the golden arrow. And what might we say is your name, when I
present you to His Majesty the prince
?” There was no mistaking the emphasis on those last words, and Marian felt a trickle of apprehension run down her spine. Will was telling her that she should continue with her charade and not reveal her true identity. Was there a chance that the prince wouldn’t recognize her? Only a slim one, she was certain.

“I am called Tesh of Thane’s Green,” she replied in a voice deeper than her normal one.

A sudden shout drew her attention, and she spun to see Robin Hood streaking toward the forest. A slew of arrows followed him, and dark shadows emerged from among the trees, converging on him.

“ ’ Tis Robin Hood! Capture him!” cried the prince.

Marian caught herself before she showed any reaction. Revealing her true identity or her allegiance to an outlaw would do no good to anyone and most certainly bring great harm to herself and Robin.

Will’s horse stamped and whuffed next to her as she watched the activity. She realized she had her fingernails curling sharply into her palms. The shadows at the forest’s edge were not clear, and she couldn’t see what was happening as Will and his mount leapt away, pounding toward the wood.

Moments later, Will and three of his men rode triumphantly back into the field. Ahead of them, they pushed a figure that stumbled as the three men on horse and two on foot herded him forward. Ropes trailed from his body, causing him to trip and giving him little range of movement for his arms and legs.

The roar of the crowd seemed muted—or mayhap it was Marian who felt dull fear settle over her. They’d caught him at last. She moved closer to the stands, edging along so that she could be near enough to attract Robin’s eye. Let him know that she would do all she could to help him.

As she watched, Will and his men brought the man forward roughly, moving rapidly toward the stand where Prince John awaited them. He looked down, smoothing his sleek beard and mustache eagerly as the prisoner stumbled and fell in front of him.

As he drew nearer, Marian saw that Robin was wrapped up in some sort of netlike covering. It appeared he’d become entangled in it, trapped like a wild animal. The crowd roared and hissed as Will’s man pulled the prisoner to his feet. From where she stood in front of the spectator stands, she caught a glimpse of his face.

It wasn’t Robin.

Marian knew that straightaway. The man looked like him. . . . He did indeed resemble Robin Hood with dark blond hair and a beard and mustache, but it was not Robin of Locksley who stood there before the prince.

She glanced up at Prince John, eyes wide, and saw that the triumph had not leaked from his face. The prince did not recognize that his man was not the outlaw!

“What a great day for Nottinghamshire!” John crowed. “We have taken into custody the bandit known as Robin Hood!”

Marian glanced at Will, ready for him to announce the mistake . . . but he sat stiffly on his horse, facing the prince, and gave no indication that they’d captured the wrong man. He said or did naught to disabuse John of his misunderstanding, and certainly made no move to look in her direction.

Did this have something to do with them speaking in the wood? But why? And how could it?

Before she could think on this turn of events any further, the horns sounded again and she heard the crowd roar with approval. Everyone was looking at her, and Lord Beghely beckoned for her to come forward. As the sheriff’s men took the hapless prisoner—who was the poor man?—off toward the keep, where he would be thrown into gaol, Marian stepped reluctantly forward to receive her prize. As Lord Beghely presented her with the golden arrow, Prince John, in an obviously jovial mood now that his trap had been sprung, beckoned her to come even closer.

She tried to look down in a stance of humility, fully aware of Will’s steady eyes on her. But because Prince John sat so high above her in the stands, their respective positions already put her in a position of obeisance, and when he spoke to her, she had no choice but to lift her face a bit in order to hear him. But she tried to appear shy, keeping her face trained at the festooned stand in front of her.

“Tesh of Thane’s Green,” John said in a booming voice. “Do you not look on the eyes of your benefactor, and thank him for his generous prize? Do you have no gratitude for your liege?”

Marian caught herself just before she fell into a curtsy and instead moved into a smooth bow. On the way up, she adjusted her cap so that it tipped forward onto her brow. She hoped it would obscure her face a bit more from the height at which John looked down at her.

But when she looked up at last, their eyes met. The prince stared at her for a moment, a long moment, and then the flash of recognition washed over his face. Marian braced herself and sensed Will moving closer behind her.

Why was it so important that he not recognize her, now that the contest was over and Robin was caught? Her only reason for wearing the disguise was to make the prince and the sheriff believe that she might be the outlaw, in order to allow him a chance to escape. Not only had he done so, but clearly it was with no help from her. All she had done was win the match. Despite Will’s obvious concern, she could fathom no reason to conceal her true identity from the prince now that it was all over.

And perhaps she was right not to worry. Other than a glimmer of amusement in his dark eyes and the hint of a smile beneath his beard, John gave no indication that he knew who she was. “Very well, then, Tesh of Thane’s Green,” he boomed, looking around expansively at the audience. “You are now proclaimed the greatest longbowman in the county, and you have taken possession of the golden arrow! All proclaim
fiat
!
Fiat!
”

“Fiat! Fiat!”
the crowd roared.

And then John leaned forward, speaking for Marian’s ears only. “Congratulations, Lady Marian. That was well played. I wish to extend my personal felicitations to you this evening in my chamber.” He glanced at Will, a smile playing beneath his well-trimmed beard. “Alone.”

CHAPTER 14

“
A
lys,” Marian hissed, pressing into the mudded walls of the alewife’s house to conceal herself.

The delicate woman paused as she crossed the bailey, looking toward Marian where she hid in the shadows. “Aye? Who calls me?”

“ ’ Tis I, Marian.” She kept her voice low, and tugged the cap from her head so that Alys could see her bright red hair in the drizzling rain. “I must speak to you.”

Moments after the archery contest had ended, the misty sprinkles had become a full-fledged rainstorm. The spectators had all dispersed quickly, ready to change out of their damp, chilled clothing. Marian had hurried off as quickly as possible, anxious to be away from the prince’s dark eyes as well as to make her own plans for the evening. Joining John in his chamber . . . alone . . . was not something she wished to do.

The very thought made her stomach pitch and flutter in an unpleasant manner. She thought she might vomit at the thought of being John’s plaything.

And that was what had given her an idea that had prompted her to wait in the bailey in order to catch Alys’s attention.

“What do you, going about dressed like . . . ?” Alys’s voice trailed off as she caught sight of Marian’s disguise. “That was you? The winner?”

“Aye.” Marian could not smother a smile of pride. Will might not care that she’d won, and Robin seemed to be full of the sulks over it, but at the least Alys’s expression was one of beaming admiration. She’d rather celebrate with Alys than the prince.

“You bested Robin Hood in the contest?”

“Aye!” Marian replied, aware that her pride was showing overmuch. She softened her grin to a mere smile and tried to remind herself of humility.

“I cannot believe he was very pleased with that at all,” Alys added, linking her arm through Marian’s. She’d obviously taken seriously her friend’s request to speak, for she began to direct them once again to the herbary. “And now he is captured and sits in the prince’s gaol. ’Tis a ripe meal to serve up to a fool such as he. He should have stayed in the wood.”