Everything I Do: a Robin Hood romance (Rosa Fitzwalter Book 1) (49 page)

With much laughter and music the wedding procession went on after that, Rosa reaching her true groom’s arms in a second, and father Tuck placing hands trembling with joy on both their heads.

Rosa, exhausted, swayed on her feet and Robin paled.

He pulled her to him more securely and sent a glance full of anguish at Tuck, who nodded and ended the ceremony within a few moments.

“I now pronounce you man and wife,” the good father concluded, a bit breathlessly.

Robin cocked an eyebrow at this uncharacteristic brevity, and picked Rosa up in his arms while his men were cheering loudly all around them.

“It’s done,” he whispered, looking into the stars of her eyes.

“I can walk,” Rosa replied drowsily.

Robin laughed and leaned in to kiss her lightly on the lips.

“Of course you can,” he replied, his voice thick with emotion. “I don’t think I have ever been so happy.”

“I haven’t either,” she agreed. “Nor so rich. In my entire life.”

He pressed her closer, and directed his steps to her little cabin, for their own wooden one was still missing a roof and he worried the cloudy skies might open again at any minute.

“No,” she protested weakly, laying her head against his chest. “When will we celebrate? The men will be expecting a feast. Won’t it start now?”

“It has already started,” Robin said against her hair. “And, God willing, it will last for the rest of our lives.” She didn’t answer and he leaned down once more, his black locks brushing her nose, his eyes sparkling like a boy’s. “Don’t you agree, my beautiful bride? Now you must rest, for you have been through so much, but I pray, for the last time.”

“I’m not beautiful,” she murmured, half-asleep. “Not with these leggings on. I look like one of your men.”

Robin laughed aloud, and the trees rang with his joy. He lifted her against him and kicked the door to her cabin open with his boot.

“You,” he told her, his voice growing husky, “could
never
look like one of my men, although you fought with me this day with more courage than the best of them.”

She looked up at him, her eyelids heavy with fatigue, and smiled happily.

“I could never dream of deserving you,” she whispered.

Robin swallowed, and smoothed her hair with long, callused fingers.

“You deserve far better, ‘tis true,” he chuckled, trying to lighten the mood, but she murmured some unintelligible protest immediately. “Now go to sleep, my brave princess, and I will be here when you wake up. Our entire life’s before us.”

He laid her down gently, and she was asleep before he had covered her with the pelts. Then he sat opposite her and fell to watching her beautiful face, calm with sleep, trying to comprehend why of all the men on green England he found himself the most blessed.

Presently, he lifted his gaze to the tiny window on the wall and looked out to the stars peeking at him from the velvet heavens. Their fate was in the hands of the Almighty now. Only He knew how many more trials they would have to face before they could finally rest under the rule of a just and rightful king. Would he ever be able to lead his bride to a home worthy of her? He doubted it.

He was, however, content enough to have her in his arms.

That was more than he had dreamed of since he met her. Far more. Surely he was this night the luckiest of men. Robin sighed in peaceful abandonment, and, resting his hand on his love’s soft hair, he let his eyes drift closed for a few precious hours before he would have to pick up his sword and longbow again, and fight for what was right.

The stars, for once witnessing a scene of calm and pure happiness, a rarity in times such as these, seemed to smile down on him and his new bride through the thick leaves of the trees of his beloved Sherwood.

EPILOGUE

PRINCE JOHN

On the third day after her wedding to Robin Hood, Rosa woke up alone. She washed and dressed herself and went out to join Father Tuck in the milky morning light.

“Still no word from my husband?” she asked, smiling down at him, trying to hide her sadness from his shrewd eyes.

The good father took his time in answering her, laying down the dry leaves he was picking for one of his various projects with care. Then he looked up at her kindly and yet his eyes held no pity.

“You haven’t seen him since then, my maid,” he replied slowly, as was his wont. “Nor have we laid eyes on Little John or Will, but I know that it is the absence of your husband -if only in name- that pains you most.”

She sat down beside him, braiding her long hair to keep it out of the way, her breath coming out in a white cloud, for the air was crisp with the promise of snow, even though they were well into March.

“He is the husband of my heart, and that is all that matters,” she said firmly. “Think you he will stay away much longer?”

Tuck laughed, laying his hand on hers.

“One thing I know is that every minute he spends away from you must near kill him, my beauty,” he chuckled. “Do not fret now, he won’t be able to stay away much longer.”

Robin came back soon enough, as it were, but not alone.

Around midday, Gilbert, who was keeping watch, ran to the camp wide-eyed and disheveled.

“What is it, lad?” Julian asked him.

“The chief is here, in the forest,” he gasped. “I heard his horn, summoning us to him. Julian, I think you should come along, as should Matt and Much.”

“I’ll come as well,” Rosa announced in a tone that would brook no argument.

When they reached Robin, however, the look on his face as soon as he saw her nearly broke her heart. There was so much yearning and anguish in his midnight eyes, that she gasped aloud, her entire soul going out to him. He, however, averted his eyes immediately, setting his shoulders high and stiff, as he led the small band of his men and Rosa further inside the forest, on foot.

“Ready with your bows,” was all he said to them, his voice low and careful.

He had been called away on the morning after his wedding, before his bride had awoken from her deep, exhausted slumber, by two of his men who came from their watching posts near the Nottingham gates to announce that the new Sheriff had retreated in his castle to wait on some important guests.

It turned out he had invited Prince John himself, the impostor brother to the king of England, to join in on the celebration of his wedding, so sure was he of his victory.

Robin, Little John and Will had camped around the castle, hiding in the gardens and in the secret passages, waiting out for the Sheriff and the Prince’s plan to unfold and reach their ears. Just as Robin’s patience was wearing thin, his eagerness to return to his bride almost hurting him with physical pain, they overheard them talking about it.

And now, here they found themselves, in the middle of his beloved Sherwood, walking straight into the lion’s den, his best men as well as his beloved, sweet wife, following him into almost certain death. He would, for once, follow his enemy’s lead, he was decided. John and Will had not been able to convince him to the contrary, no matter their half-hearted attempts. He would willingly fall into their plans. He would walk to his ruin.

It had come to this.

And may God have mercy on his soul.

Rosa’s first glimpse of Prince John was not a favorable one. He was resplendent enough, his retinue glorious behind him, his stature imposing and proud atop his horse, but his eyes held a calculating, hard look, and his lips were curling around a self-satisfied smirk that turned her stomach.

She stood just behind Robin Hood, as did the rest of the men, tall and proud, not bowing to the prince, although that was what custom dictated. An idea was beginning to form in her mind, an idea as to what this was about, and her breath caught in her throat.

No, was all she could think.

No.

And yet, a small thrill of excitement ran down her spine, as though she was sharing the feeling with Robin Hood, her chief, her husband, her friend.

“You will not approach my men,” Robin Hood told the prince calmly as he made to alight from his horse.

“You try to order me around like one of your pathetic men,” the prince smirked. “England has need of you, and at these critical times, I dare not take offense at your arrogant, foolish, peasant manners, Hood. I, as well as your Sheriff, humble ourselves before you this day, and seek your assistance for the sake of this our beloved country.”

He bowed his head, and around them all was silent, the trees themselves seeming to hold their breath.

“You are a traitor to my beloved country,” Robin cried, “you as well as the Sheriff of Nottingham, along with your corrupt clergy and the dirtied bevy of counselors that you surround yourselves with. You have no care for the rightful kind, having usurped his place with neither regret nor guilt, and milking the good, honest people of England to fill your coffers and your stomachs. All you seek is to kill your brother, the brave Lionheart, and me along with him.”

The forest rang with his brave accusations, and the prince’s men trembled within their boots, waiting for the inevitable eruption of their master’s anger. It did not come, however. His cheeks flushed purple with rage and his horse whinnied, chafing at the rough handling of the reins, but the prince bit his tongue along with the words that came to him in the face of the outlaw’s insolence.

“I can end you where you stand,” he said quietly, his chest rising and falling rapidly, trying to contain his rage.

“Yet I think you won’t,” Robin laughed easily. “You don’t seek to give the people a greater hero than the one they already adore, nor another reason to despise you. You are already known for your cowardice, injustice and cruelty. No need to add my murder to your crimes.”

Not one of the people who heard him speak thus could guess how his heart was quelling at the mere thought of Rosa coming to harm. He cursed himself and his men a thousand times for not keeping her away. And yet he knew, errant as he was already in his husbandly duties, the she was here neither for missing him nor for any stubborn, womanly whim. She was here to support him. To fight at his side, if need be; to show him she believed in him, to be there with the best of his men, backing his every move, that he would not have to win this battle alone.

This was no time for regrets, no time for thinking of the past, and of simple, everyday blessings other men took for granted. He had known, a long time ago, that he might never experience the joy of lying with a wife, but arriving so close to it, almost tasting that pleasure on his lips, and yet not quite grasping it, was pure torture.

It might be a mercy should he let the cowardly prince run him through with his sword right now. Still, he had to stand his ground. This was his own, personal choice, what he believed to be his calling, and he must see it to the end.

“The ransom you have, as is rumored, amassed for the sake of King Richard,” the prince went on, “does it exist?”

“I see no reason to answer you,” Robin replied, as he had agreed with his men the previous night, upon overhearing this same plan from the lips of Prince John and Sir Hugh, whispered behind closed doors.

“Well,” Prince John said, “the King has need of it. Now. He is, as you know, imprisoned in the Holy Lands these fourteen years, and only last month did we receive word of a final ultimatum. He is to be executed in the fall.”

“Surely his brother would rush to his aid,” Robin Hood told him, staring him in the eye.

The prince and he faced each other down, the forest floor hard and cold between them, dead leaves stirring in the wind all around them.