Lion Heart (25 page)

I were quiet and stunned as I returned to the Great Hall. Rob were there, ordering people into groups to hunt. He led us into Sherwood, glancing at me but not saying anything. Allan had declined to come, so I were with Rob and David and Godfrey, and we walked into the forest, toward a clearing in the woods where we'd always had good luck with hunting before. In the undisturbed deep of the forest the animals were out roaming, young ones hobbling along beside them, frighting as we came through but sure to return as soon as we were still.

“Scar, you and I will go up,” Rob said, pointing to a good tree with a wide, stable heart where we could sit for a long while. “David, Godfrey, lie in the brush.”

David looked to me and I nodded, and he and Godfrey went off to obey. I swallowed as I looked at the tree. “Rob,” I said soft.

His eyes met mine.

I turned my hands over, touching the stumps of my fingers. “I don't know if I can climb anymore.”

He looked me over, looked at my hands. “We'll see.”

“Rob—” I started, but he went toward the tree.

My face flushed. I didn't want to fall down the damn thing in front of him. I didn't want to be this girl, who didn't know much of what she were good at anymore. I crossed my bow over my shoulders and followed him with a sigh.

He stood next to the tree. The first branch were just above his head, and before it wouldn't have been a thought to jump and grab it, curl my legs up into the tree, gaining one branch and then the next, climbing fast.

He stepped aside and I jumped for it. One hand held fast and the other slid right off, leaving me to swing, my shoulder burning with the effort. I grunted, letting go and frowning at him.

His eyes met mine. “Again,” he said, nodding at it.

“Rob—” I started.

“Again,” he said gentle.

I shook my head, but I did as he asked, and as my first hand fell he grabbed my knees. I looked down at him, and he nodded up again. He pushed up, and
I could change my hold on the branch, with my palm on top to get a better grip.

My arms were weaker than they'd been before, but I pulled myself up with a huff. Rob came up right behind me.

“It doesn't count as climbing if you're doing half the work,” I told him.

He shrugged, standing on the branch and pulling me up with him. There were more branches now, like stairs in the tree. “Then what does it count as?” he asked.

I frowned, unsure.

“Come on,” he said. “I'll go up first. And if you need help, I'll help.”

Simple. But not simple at all.

He started up the tree, and it were easy to follow him. My feet could do most of the work with my hands only guides and balances, and I tried to go faster, to keep pace with him.

He made the heart of the tree before me, and he turned back and held out his arm. I grabbed it above the wrist and he pulled me up, close to him. “You beat me,” I told him.

His head tilted. “Were we racing?”

“No,” I said. I were the only one racing, it seemed.

“Where should we set up?” he asked, looking about.

“There,” I said, pointing to a wide branch with sturdy branches below it. I went to it and crouched, letting my legs hang off either side and catch the lower branches for stability. Rob sat a bit behind me, and we both took out our bows and arrows.

Nervous, I started to test mine. I tried holding the bow in my whole hand and the string in my half, then reversed it. Then reversed it again.

I felt Rob's eyes on me, and turned to look at him. He looked up at my face. He'd been watching my hand.

I turned away from him, feeling my stomach twist, feeling ugly and scarred and weak.

“Can you use a knife with that hand?” he asked.

I pulled one from my belt, showing him.

He tested the grip, his fingers molding over mine and pushing, and nodded. “Impressive.”

I looked at it. “I practiced with a rock. It's not as strong as the other hand.”

“Of course it isn't, Scar. You lost two of your fingers. But the fact that you can hold a knife at all is incredible.”

My eyes dropped to the bow, miserable. “I can't do this, Rob.”

He slid closer behind me, kissing my cheek quick before drawing his arms round me. He pressed my whole hand against the shaft of the bow, and slid my other hand on the string. He took an arrow, wedging it careful between my two remaining fingers, and I shifted my thumb to hold it against the string.

He let go, and the arrow dropped, clattering slow through the tree. Birds flew off at the noise. “Dammit!” I snapped, trying to pull out of his arms.

But we were on a tree branch, and he were blocking me, and I couldn't get free without knocking him off. And considering the path the arrow took, I weren't keen to do it just yet.

“Hush,” he said against my ear. “Try again.”

I twisted hard to glare at him. “What, Rob? You want to hear me say I'm some strange crippled girl and I'll never shoot the bow again? That—that—without being able to hold these weapons I'm not sure of
anything
? What do you want?”

His mouth hooked up. “I want you to try again,” he told me.

He didn't guide my hands as I clutched the arrow, trying to draw it on the string. I could hold all the parts, but I couldn't aim it—I couldn't even hold the damn thing straight, and my hand were cramping.

I unstrung the arrow, shaking my hand out. “Hurts?” he asked.

“Yes. Is
that
what you want to hear?” I grumped.

He took the hand, rubbing the muscles.

I pulled away. “I can't do this, Rob.”

His shoulders lifted. “Very well.”

I frowned.

He nodded into the clearing. “There's a deer. Someone should probably shoot it.”

“Go ahead.”

He leaned back, crossing his arms and watching me. “Don't feel like it.”

“Don't feel like it? Robin!”

He lifted his shoulders again.

“You'd really starve your people to prove a point?” I snapped.

“Would you?” he returned.

“Fine!” I snapped. I strung an arrow and aimed it. I let it fly, and it went so wild the deer didn't even spook. “Fantastic,” I told him. “I hope I didn't kill Godfrey. If they're not laughing themselves to death down there.”

His arms were around me again, guiding my hands. “Like this,” he said, shifting my fingers a bit. “Listen to your bow. Mind your breath. Find the moment, Scar. You can do this,” he whispered in my ear.

I drew in a deep breath. My hand hurt holding the arrow, and I knew it were sweating I were holding it so tight. I let the breath out, waiting for the lull between heartbeats, and I let it go.

“Hey!” Rob yelled, pointing as the arrow landed in the rump of the deer. It started, frightened and hurt, and it were disoriented enough that Godfrey could leap over and cut its throat.

“I hit the
ass
,” I grunted.

“Well, you're acting like an ass, so that's perfectly fine,” he told me.

“
I'm acting like
—” I started to yell at him, but he ducked closer, tilting my chin to kiss him, feeling like maybe, hidden in a tree and acting like our old selves, the rules of the world didn't apply. I only let it go a few moments too long, before pulling away with a frown.

“You hit the deer,” he said soft. “You did it.”

I glanced out. Godfrey and David were trussing the deer so they could move it from the clearing. “I hit the deer,” I allowed.

He rubbed my cheek and turned my face back to his, waiting, and with a sigh I kissed him, twisting on the tree to have an easier time of it. He rubbed along my legs as we kissed, drawing one up and hooking it round his waist to pull me closer. I drew a breath through my nose, not breaking the kiss—with both of us in pants, it felt
close
. Very close. Bending my knee pushed him harder against me, and our lips broke as we both drew a ragged breath.

“I love you, Scarlet,” he told me, his eyes dark and shimmery blue in the green shade of the trees.

“I love you too,” I told him, not looking at him. He reached to kiss me again, and I leaned back. “We never finished that talk 'bout whether or not you want to marry me,” I told him, not looking up.

He drew a breath, leaning back too. “I want to,” he said.

I looked up at him, but he were looking out over the forest. “Talk or marry me?”

His mouth twisted up. “Marry you, Scar.”

“But.”

He looked at me. “But you're a noblewoman. I can't forget that.”

“I'm a bastard with royal blood and royal favor,” I told him. “You were the one born a noble.”

“You can protect Nottinghamshire if you marry, Scar. You must realize that.”

I crossed my arms. “I do. Essex just offered for my hand this morning, in fact.”

“He
what
?”

“Yes. Said that would be the best way to protect me, and protect Nottinghamshire.”

Color crept up Rob's face. “Essex? Winchester says he's Isabel's lackey. You'd marry him?”

“Who else did you have in mind? Winchester's not married. Should I wed him? How about de Clare—he's not an earl, but he'll inherit an earldom,” I taunted. “If I don't mind a cruel, twisted man for a husband, of course.”

“Scarlet!” he growled at me.

“What?” I demanded. “You want to toss me to another man like I'm some thing that can be traded for power and wealth?
You think that will protect Nottingham? You think
that
will stop Prince John?”

“You need to think!” he snapped.

“No!” I snapped back. “
You
need to think. Like a thief—like a girl. Like all the people that get their power and their choices taken away from them. I won't be one of them. I will hold the earldom as my own if I have to.”

“And I have no doubt you can. But it will be easier—”

“With a man I don't love and don't want and don't care about, touching me, making me have his children, silencing me? That won't be easier.”

“And you think I'm such a prize?” he shouted at me. “You'd take me over an earl? You think I'll make it easier, with my nightmares, with my scars?”

I pushed forward, taking his face in my hands. “I have scars, Rob. I'm not frightened of your dreams. I love you, and you make me stronger. You make me stronger than wealth or power. And together, if you just choose to be together, we can save Nottingham.”

He were breathing hard with anger, staring at my eyes, his chest rising and bringing him close to me. With a grunted noise he pushed forward against my hands, our mouths meeting. I thought it would be some frantic thing to match the anger in his body, but it were deep, and slow, and full like everything he felt were unspoken on his tongue.

I heard a rustle and turned my head, looking out in the clearing as his mouth shifted with me, moving under my ear. He swept my hair back, tasting my skin. “Rob,” I whispered. “Stag.”

He nodded, and I grabbed his bow, putting it in one hand and an arrow in the other. He kept kissing my neck, and I felt him fumbling with the weapons behind me.

“Rob, I should—” I started.

“Stay still,” he murmured, straightening to look at my eyes. He glanced once—
once
—over my shoulder into the glen. “Kiss me,” he said.

Thinking it were for good luck or some such thing, I did, and his mouth captured mine, tilting and twisting and opening, dragging me away into it. I didn't know when he let go of the arrow, but I felt the bow brush my back as his hands touched me slow and careful, wary of pressing too hard and hurting me where the bruises were.

Threading my arms round his neck, I broke the kiss. “Rob, the
stag
,” I reminded him.

He nodded toward the clearing.

Godfrey and David were trussing it up, but there weren't no need to cut its throat—Rob had shot the beast through its eye.

Its eye.

I pushed him back with a grin. “Posturing braggart, show-off peacock!” I accused.

“If by that you mean I'm the best damn archer you've ever seen and you'd like to reward me with a kiss,” he said, drawing me back to him. “Then I accept. And yes, I will continue to give you generous lessons to achieve my epic—nay,
legendary
—skill.”

I kissed him.

He were, in fact, the best damn archer I'd ever seen.

Getting down the tree were worse than getting up. I thought it would be fine, but while I were searching for one of my first footholds my hand lost grip and I fell to a lower branch. Rob were there quick to catch me before I fell lower.

From there he guided me down, stepping first, holding my waist as I followed.

At the bottom, he jumped from the tree and held out his arms, and without hesitating, I jumped into them. He caught me, like I had absolute faith that he would. My match, my bandmate in all things.