Everything I Do: a Robin Hood romance (Rosa Fitzwalter Book 1) (45 page)

Little escaped that piercing gaze, however, as she well knew, and she saw his somber expression harden as Sir Hugh reached out to place a hand lightly atop her chilled one.

She took her seat, carefully arranging her skirts around her, trying to pretend that the mere sight of him wasn’t consuming her every thought; she failed miserably.

Robin didn’t even seem to be breathing, so intensely was his gaze focused on her. She knew she must look away, but it was impossible to tear her eyes from his. Finally she found the willpower to turn aside, and the minutes dragged by until the ceremony was well under way and it seemed a long, interminable hour had passed.

She couldn’t help then but look back at the place where she had seen him, hoping to remind herself that, however brief, her glimpse of him had been real and not imagined.

She turned her eyes to the crowd.

He was still there, grim, unmoving, standing tall in the exact spot as before. His dark eyes filled with warmth as they met hers once more and held them squarely.

Then a corner of his mouth lifted in a pitiful attempt at a smile and he winked.

CHAPTER
17

THE WEDDING

That night Rosa was back in her old room at the castle, but neither the familiarity of her surroundings nor the strange quietness of suddenly being inside four walls after living in the forest could bring her any comfort.

The rain was still drizzling outdoors, and she turned her face to it as she opened her window to take in a few gulps of air. She still felt that she was suffocating.

On a sudden impulse she grabbed her heavy, dark cloak off the hook on the wall, and slid outside on the slippery terrace. From there, limb as a cat, she climbed down by way of the clinging ivy, until she reached the kitchens.

She went inside, and to her relief, she saw that everything was as she had predicted. Chaos was reigning in the new Sheriff’s kitchens, even though it was well past midnight, for maids and cooks and serfs were dashing madly about, hurriedly preparing his lordship’s wedding feast for the morrow. Rosa, unnoticed by anyone, slipped quietly out the back door.

Her cloak was half-soaked by the time she reached the vault, but the torch she was holding hadn’t been extinguished, so she thrust it forward and stepped quietly on the stone steps, the dark, damp walls immediately echoing the slightest noise.

The chapel was alight. The abbot was supposedly keeping a vigil, as was custom, but she knew that he was most likely asleep on the floor after consuming a huge meal, so she did not worry he might notice her. She meandered between the statues until she reached the most recent grave of her father.

Once there, she hung her torch on the wall, immediately illuminating the darkness and sending long, eerie shadows sprawling on the floor. She stood very still, looking at the marble in front of her as though on it were written all the answers to her questions. The rainwater was slowly seeping into her clothes, but she did not feel its coldness, nor did she notice the shadow of another figure light-footedly approaching the entrance, directly behind her.

The figure stayed silent, observing her from the shadows for a long time, but she was unaware of it. She neither cried nor spoke, nor did she move a muscle for the next half hour and more. Then, suddenly, her entire body seemed finally to feel the strain of her watching, and she stumbled, her legs refusing to support her any longer.

That was when the figure moved.

It stepped swiftly towards her, and caught her arm just as she was about to collapse on a heap on the hard ground, supporting her.

She murmured something unintelligible, and sighed, trying to push him away and stand on her own. After a minute, sure that she was able to stay upright, he let her go.

“Has he hurt you?” the figure asked gruffly, as though he hadn’t meant to speak, but the words had been wrenched from him despite his very will.

“What are you doing here?” Rosa asked him in a tired, strained voice. “Do you plan to render all my efforts for naught?”

“Efforts?” he repeated bitterly. “Is that what this foolish sacrifice is supposed to be?”

Rosa finally turned to face him.

The flickering light of the torch illuminated her pale cheeks, and Robin’s heart clenched within him, for he hadn’t seen her in two days, and during that time pain and sorrow had already made their mark on her beautiful eyes.

“I made my decision,” she said simply. “It’s not one I like, but I did what I had to do for… for the greater good.”

He winced at her words, at their formality and their impersonal tone, and at their meaning.

“Are you unharmed?” he repeated in a toneless voice, bending his head low so that the shadows would further conceal the bruises on his left eye.

“Robin,” she said, her lips curling around his name in a foreign, cold way.

“Did he hurt you in any way?” He swallowed hard, shutting his eyes for a second. “Tell me he did not touch you.”

“Please,” she said in a low voice and he cursed roundly into the chilled air of the vault, turning his face away.

What’s the point?
Rosa thought wearily. The new Sheriff had indeed touched her, but harmlessly enough, stealing a quick kiss before he retired. But quite soon there would be more than that. He would be her husband, the rights of a bride surrendered to him for her entire life, and Robin’s questions would be rendered less than irrelevant.

He was silent for a breath, then he sighed, gulping in air like a man drowning.

“Come back with me,” he whispered fiercely. He lowered his hood and ran his hands through his dark hair. “Marry me,” he added in a broken voice.

“I cannot,” Rosa said calmly, and no one would have guessed her heart was breaking within her -no one but him. “I am promised to him.”

Robin’s hand dropped to his side.

“Surely you jest,” he said, looking into her eyes, but she did not meet his gaze. “Look at me!” he cried, trying to catch her eye. “You won’t even raise your lovely eyes… Surely… surely you do not think me a murderer?”

His voice cracked at the last word, his breath coming short and rugged.

“You did what you had to survive,” she replied in a whisper.

“Rosa,” he began, and then had to take a moment to compose himself. “I went back to him alone. It was my own fault entirely, for he had set up a trap for me, holding captive a little boy, a son of a kitchen maid, a young lad whom I found…” his voice trailed off.

“Martha’s son? You found him dead?” she asked, trembling.

“I did,” he said simply. His arms were aching to hold her, to comfort and warm her, but he did not dare approach her. “But that was not all that awaited me. He meant to fight with me to the death, and he was sure he would overpower me. His personal guard had me surrounded, I’m sure he thought they’d rush in to kill me at the last moment, if there was any danger to his life, only they weren’t quick enough… He… he stumbled and fell on my sword.”

“Sweet Robin,” she said, finally looking up at him, tears in her eyes. “Do not feel as though you need to explain yourself to me. I well know you would never do harm to another human being, no matter how much they deserve it, willingly.”

He laughed harshly.

“Never do harm…” he mocked. “Why, am I not the reason that you are sold to a form of slavery worse than death this very day?”

“Let us speak no more of this,” she replied, and started to move towards the exit. The sound of heavy rain pelting mercilessly on the cobbled stones was coming from outside, heavy droplets pelting mightily on the ground, their chill reaching her even inside, and she drew her cloak more firmly about her, bracing herself for the cold. “You know you won’t be safe otherwise. I gave my promise in order to guarantee you a few days of security, I hope, and after that, I’m afraid that the danger will again pursue you and your men. But still, this little that I can do, I will. I gave my promise and I dare not take it back, for there are others who will pay the consequence. You in the forest, me in the castle. That’s how it has to be.”

He ran to her, and took her shoulders in his hands, towering above her, his eyes frantic.

“You are my life,” he told her. “I am nothing without you.
Nothing
! Do you understand?” he shouted with vehemence. “How can you give me up after all we’ve been through, after all we’ve overcome?”

“I have no choice,” she said somberly. “I tried to think of any other way, but there is none.”

“And what of love?” he persisted. “What of your love for me? Is… is it dead?”

“How can you ask me that?” she cried. “How do you not see that I am doing this out of love for you!”

“You… you are killing me,” he gasped.

With a muffled cry of desperation, she wrenched herself from his grasp, and ran up the stairs into the rain. The water showered heavily on her, and within minutes she was drenched, her soft moccasins sinking in the mud. Her gait was unsteady, for her vision was blurred with water and her chest rose and fell rapidly, but still she stumbled in the dark, running away from him.

She heard his steps slapping in the rivulets of water behind her as he came after her with long, determined strides, and she tried blindly to find her way in the darkness, but too soon he reached her, and, taking her elbow, he crushed her to him, panting heavily.

“Good God, you must be chilled to the bone,” he murmured, his lips brushing against her forehead. “My own, sweet girl,” he continued, stepping away to look at her, “the danger is passed. I am free and come back to you. Please, please accept me.”

“I cannot,” she said, tears glistening on her cheeks, and mingling with the rain.

With a splash, he fell to his knees heavily before her, bowing his head as though she were a saint and he a pilgrim.

“I will spend the rest of my life trying to earn your forgiveness for what I did last night,” he said earnestly.

“There is no need for forgiveness,” her voice came sweet and gentle above his head.  “My good master, I know it in my heart you have done no wrong, especially so when your acts saved me forever from my greatest adversary, a man who despised and hated me so deeply, yet I persisted in seeking his love and affection to the very last.”

Her chest was hurting with sobs, her whole body shaking, and Robin got up with a shuddering breath and slipped a hand around her waist and another under her legs. He pressed her to him briefly and then, at a mad run, he carried her inside the castle.

“Don’t,” she muttered through chattering teeth, but he sauntered unceremoniously into the kitchens, and laid her carefully on a chair in front of the burning furnace.

“Bring me some wine,” he said gruffly, hiding behind his dripping hood, to the first maid he saw. “And quick, your mistress is cold.”

The maid obeyed immediately, her cheeks turning red, and Rosa took his hand in hers urgently. The heavy aroma of roasted meat and spices was choking her, making it hard to breathe.

“You must leave this place,” she said. “
Now
.”

“Your hands are like ice,” he said absently, chafing them. “I’m not leaving without you.”

He was staring stubbornly, recklessly into her eyes, which were still streaming, and she brought his hands to her lips and soaked them with her tears.

He could see now, in the indoor light, that she was wearing a dress of burgundy velvet, having exchanged her mourning garb for a festive gown, which complimented her auburn hair to a fault and made her pale skin glow soft and translucent, bathed as it was in the orange light of the flames.