Colette Gale - Bound by Honor

Or had it merely been happenstance that Robin had recognized her, and had thus called off his men?

Or had the sheriff arrived in time to prevent the outlaws from making off with her belongings?

The next time she saw Robin-for she would certainly see him again, she’d make certain of it-she would have words with him. And try to find a way to help him while she spied on Prince John.

And mayhap . . . she might allow him to kiss her again.

CHAPTER 2

“By the rood,” Prince John said to Will that evening. They sat at a large table on the dais in the great hall of Ludlow, enjoying pheasant and grouse from Sherwood Forest. “The hall has for certain grown quieter without my lovely wife’s presence.”

“But all that much darker and unattractive for it,” Will replied automatically. Other than flattery about his person, John liked nothing better than to hear about the beauty and desirability of his wife. And if he ever procreated a legitimate child, he’d most likely require compliments in that regard as well.

No sooner had the words come out than Will cast a swift glance at his companion to be certain he hadn’t noticed the disinterest in his voice. His mind had been elsewhere since his return to Ludlow as Marian’s escort. And though he appreciated the opportunity to be seated at the high table, where he could look out over the other diners if he wished to locate one in particular, he was wholly uninterested in attending John tonight.

Ludlow was one of Prince John’s smaller, less-significant holdings. He’d come into it simply by chance, when the daughter of one of his vassals married the baron of the tiny fief. The daughter and the baron died without issue, and John expediently assumed ownership of the holding as its overlord.

As it turned out, Ludlow Keep was fairly comfortable despite its smaller size, and it happened to abut the king’s Sherwood Forest, which was known for generous hunting. Thus, John found the insignificant fief more pleasurable than one would expect, particularly since his wife, Isobel, preferred Westminster for a variety of reasons and wouldn’t be present to hamper his other activities.

This time, John had been at Ludlow for six months, not just because he enjoyed it, but because he was trying to lie low, as far from his mother’s notice as possible. When John was in residence, he required Will to attend him, which forced the sheriff to leave the small manor house he held along with his office. It also meant that he was relegated to a chamber with the other unmarried men of rank, since Ludlow wasn’t really large enough to accommodate a royal court.

John’s wife, Isobel, visited briefly, then returned to larger and busier residences, leaving her husband to amuse himself with hunting and other activities. Despite the princess’s absence, however, many of her ladies-in-waiting remained at Ludlow, as they were wards of the prince, or because their husbands, fathers, or other responsible male family members attended him.

“And so you’ve allowed Robin Hood to escape yet again,” John said as he sloshed a piece of bread in the juices of the trencher they shared. Since there were no ladies attending them at the trestle table, the single hollowed-out loaf of bread filled with fowl and potatoes served them both.

Despite the critical words, John’s voice was easy and casual, indicating that he wasn’t particularly angry or disappointed with Will’s most recent failure to clap Robin in chains and toss him in the dungeon. There were times when Will suspected that John, for all his fury and blustering at the band of thieves, might also find their continued freedom useful in some respect.

After all, if coin disappeared, it could always be blamed on them, even if it happened to end up lining John’s own coffers instead of in the hands of the bandits.

Yet, more important, John did not like to look the fool-and Robin Hood’s continued elusion of the sheriff and his men accomplished just that. Will did not like to look the fool any more than the prince did, but he had little choice in the matter.

“The man and his band become more bold as the days go by, my lord,” Will replied. He glanced out over the rows of tables that lined the hall. The gentry sat nearest the high table, where the most choice and freshest of foods were served. As one moved to the rear of the hall, the diners became more simple and mean, ending with the lowliest of serfs and villeins in the very back.

“He is too clever to capture in the forest. Methinks a trap ought to be set for the man. Something that will lure him from the safety of the trees.”

Will calmly broke a corner of bread from the trencher and chewed on it, trying to keep his mind on John’s words rather than his eyes searching the hall.

“An archery contest, and mayhap a day of jousting, would be in order,” continued the prince. “ ’ Twill draw him out, for Robin Hood is known for his skill with the bow.”

“He is a most skilled archer,” Will agreed. “He did, after all, skewer the cloak of Lord d’Arlande, pinning him betwixt hand and waist against a tree trunk.”

“Drawing nary a drop of blood in the process, the lickspittle. An’ from some perch in a tree,” John added, with a combination of disgust and wonder. “Did he not also pin your man-what was his name?-to a wagon he was robbing?”

Will picked up his goblet of wine. “Aye, three arrows and-”

“God’s blood,” said John suddenly. “And wherever did that vision appear from?”

The note of deep interest . . . almost reverence . . . in John’s voice caught Will’s full attention and he put his cup down and looked at the prince. His mouth parted and lips shiny with grease from the pheasant, John appeared quite taken.

Will’s fingers tightened, though he kept his face blank. He knew without looking what-or, rather, who-had caught the Angevin’s attention. It was inevitable.

And now he had to tread very carefully. “Ah, so you have seen Marian of Morlaix,” Will said casually. He reached for his wine again, the metal of his goblet cool and textured beneath his grip. “She is quite the comely bitch. I had the misfortune of coming upon her in the wood today after Robin Hood had taken her off during the robbery.”

“Is that so?” John said, but his eyes remained fixed on Marian. “Misfortune?”

Will didn’t have to look directly out into the hall to know where she sat now, for he’d seen a glimpse of that brilliant coppery hair shining in the torchlight. He kept his attention on John instead of the woman. “He left her in the wood and that was the cause of his escape this day. I dare not leave a gentlewoman alone in the forest to chase after him, as he well knew. So I was forced to bring her back to her escort. By that time, Robin’s men had taken what they desired and had all disappeared.”

“So he took her off into the wood, did he?”

“ ’ Twas merely a diversionary tactic, my lord,” he said. “I’m certain he meant to draw me and my men into the wood after him to rescue Lady Marian.”

“Lady Marian,” mused John, his voice hollow as he lifted his goblet to drink. “I’ve never seen such hair. The color of flame, ’tis. And a face to go with it. Alabaster skin, full lips just right for sucking cock-”

“And the temperament as well,” Will added, disregarding the fact that he’d interrupted his liege. “I’d like nothing better than to take that in hand.”

“Indeed.” For the first time, John seemed to hear what Will had said. “Do you know the lady?”

“I fostered with her father at Mead’s Vale. She tormented us most handily, and hid behind her father’s hauberk when we would have had our revenge. Even then she showed the sign of becoming a most annoying, mouthy woman.” He closed his own mouth at that point, acutely aware that his companion’s mother had long been criticized for the very same faults-and more.

“Damme, and she is a widow too,” John said, rich speculation in his voice. “ ’ Tis almost too convenient.”

Even the prince would be hard-pressed to excuse the deflowering of one of his wards, but a widow was the easiest fruit to pluck. No male family members to cry dishonor, and no maidenhead to broach.

“A sharp-tongued one. I trow, the woman should be taught to keep her mouth closed . . . unless she has it otherwise engaged,” Will said with a meaningful laugh. He’d somehow picked up his eating knife and realized his fingers had curled tightly around it. Keeping his voice even, he continued. “I should like to take that task on myself, my lord. I’ve a desire to otherwise engage that impudent tongue.”

John turned to look at him again, his eyes so dark they appeared black. “And how does it happen that I have long urged you to find a field in which to rut, but now that you have set your eye on one, ’tis that of my own desire.” His voice, low and easy, nevertheless carried a warning note.

“My lord, I knew that woman when she was but a young girl, a tease and a tormentor. And it’s long been my desire to teach the lessons that I was never able to at that time. And aside of that, ’tis indeed a ripe field to plow. But,” Will continued boldly when he saw that the prince was about to speak, “mayhap I have a way that you might find pleasing as well. She is a fire-haired bitch, and ’twill be a task to tame her. If you set that task to me, I’ll take it gladly, my lord. Thus, none of her complaints can be directed at you, but at me instead. Then, I shall promise you a tame and willing woman to warm your bed when all the spite is gone from her. A well-trained and willing one in the stead of a surly, mouthy bitch.”

John had closed his mouth to chew on a particularly tough piece of fowl, if the way his jaw worked was any indication. A spark of interest had flared in his eyes and he reached for his goblet to drink, still chewing.

Will used his eating knife to spear the last bit of pheasant and bring it to his own mouth, keeping his attention firmly on the prince. He uncurled his fingers and let the small knife rest next to the trencher. And waited. Waited as if to learn whether he would be sent into battle on a cold gray morning.

“Aye,” said John at last. “Aye, ’tis a good plan, Will. There is only one stipulation I must insist upon.”

“What is that, my lord?”

“That whilst you are going about the taming of that luscious little cunt, you’ll provide me some entertainment.” John wiped his face with a small cloth. “I desire to watch.”

Marian found the great hall at Ludlow cramped, close, and smoky. All great halls were, to some extent, but it was worse here than usual. A royal court-even if ’twas only that of John Lackland-required numerous serfs to keep things running smoothly, countless pages and men-at-arms, and all the ladies and lords who curried favors. In a keep as small as Ludlow, the swell of people pushed at the very limits of the space.

She’d managed to find a seat in the second row, not far from the wall, where a torch burned down a pleasant circle of light. Though it was late September, fires blazed in two different fireplaces: a smaller one behind the high table, and a large one on the opposite wall. Dogs slunk underfoot, looking for their daily fare, while serfs dashed to and fro with their platters of food.

Marian glanced at the high table, where she caught her first glimpse of Prince John. He was a handsome man, with a neatly trimmed beard and fine clothing. His dark eyes seemed too small for his face, but they gleamed with interest and cunning as he conversed with the man next to him.

His companion had turned away momentarily as John gave an openmouthed guffaw, and was speaking to a page behind him, so Marian couldn’t see his face. She cast a quick look about the hall. Nottinghamshire’s sheriff was nowhere to be seen, for which she was unaccountably disappointed. Yet there were so many people crowded around the tables, she would not be surprised if he was there, but not visible to her. No doubt a man of his rank would sit closer to the prince, Marian thought.

“My lady, I heard you were set upon by that outlaw Robin of the Hood!”

The breathless question came from Alys of Wentworth, one of Queen Eleanor’s wards whom Marian knew from her days in the queen’s court. Though she was only eighteen, Alys had been sent as chaperone to deliver one of Richard’s very young wards to John’s court while the king and his mother were traveling to the Holy Lands.

Tonight, Alys was with two women who were only passing acquaintances of Marian’s from previous court visits. Finding Alys here, who not only had been a good friend but also had a reputation as an excellent healer, was a welcome diversion for Marian.

“Aye, he attempted a robbery of my wagons,” Marian replied.

“What was Robin Hood like? Was he as handsome as they say?” asked another of the ladies, who introduced herself as Catherine.

“He was friendly for a bandit,” Marian replied, noticing that some of the other nearby gentry had turned to listen. “No one was hurt, and he was quite gallant.” What else could she say? She wasn’t about to admit that he’d swept her up on his horse and stolen a kiss.

“And handsome?” Catherine pressed, her eyes dancing as though she knew something Marian didn’t.

“Quite handsome,” Marian replied, smiling back. She happened to look toward the front of the hall at that moment, and her whole body froze. It chilled, then suddenly exploded into unpleasant heat in her cheeks.

Prince John was looking at her. Not merely looking at her, but pinning her with hooded dark eyes as though he wished to be doing so with his hands . . . or something else. Marian pulled her gaze away from his and felt her heart pounding rampantly. Her stomach suddenly felt unpleasantly heavy and disrupted.

“Is it true that the sheriff rescued you and his men chased off the bandits?” ventured another of the ladies.

Marian swallowed back the churning in her stomach that threatened to bubble up her throat. “The sheriff did arrive quite fortuitously,” she said, and was unable to keep from glancing back at the high table.

John was still watching her, slipping a chunk of food into his mouth and masticating as though he meant to be feeding on her rather than the food. The expression was unmistakable. Marian tore her eyes away again and they skittered over the prince’s companion, who, this time, was facing the front of the hall. Her throat dried again.

She hadn’t recognized him before, or perhaps she hadn’t looked closely enough. But ’twas most definitely Will there, sharing the most prominent seat in the hall with the prince as though he was his closest crony.

He, at the least, wasn’t looking at her. Instead, he leaned closer to John and spoke intimately to him while lifting a chunk of meat to his mouth on a small eating knife. Even from here, she saw the tension and harshness in a face tanned the color of deer hide, and made even more shadowy by the dark hair that brushed against it. And then the sudden gleam of a humorless smile.

“Why does he sit with the prince?” she asked. “In such a place of honor?”

“Oh,” said the lady who’d asked about him in the first place, and whose name Marian had forgotten, “he and the prince are inseparable companions.”

“Indeed,” Marian said, feeling her brows draw together in a frown. “Does the sheriff seek favor from the prince, then?”