Colette Gale - Bound by Honor

“Will?” Marian was looking at him, and he gave himself a bit of a shake.

“You must go with him,” he said, easing away from her. Chill settled over his skin when they broke apart. “John will have recovered from his sickness, and he will be more determined than ever to entertain you. There is little I can do to stop him, save violence.”

She was shaking her head. “I’ll not leave you, Will,” she said again. “He will not dare to truly harm me. He dares not leave lasting hurts on a noblewoman; he merely wishes to play. And it is not as if I’ve not had to suffer his hands on me before. ’Tis no pleasure, but there could be worse things-such as being called out for treason.”

He realized dimly that Locksley had left the chamber, but it was not too late to send her after him. “Marian, you needn’t take that chance. I’ll not have him put his hands on you again. Do not ask it of me. I could hardly bear it before, but now . . .”

She was watching him so closely, he swore she could read his inner thoughts. “Will, I cannot leave you. I won’t. Do not try and force me.”

“But I have forced you into all of this, have I not?” he asked, suddenly blackly furious with himself and John, and with Locksley, the king’s rapacious war . . . with it all.

“You’ve forced me into nothing. The queen sent me here, knowing that John would want me,” Marian told him. Whether by accident or design, the furs had slipped from her hand and now she sat bare to the waist, her lovely hair tangling about her.

As tantalizing as the sight was, he could not allow it to distract him. “The queen sent you to be John’s leman?”

Marian reached for him, her fingers on his arm. “Not to be his leman, although ’tis certain she suspected it would happen. She set me to spy upon John, for she suspects his plotting against Richard.”

Will looked at her, unsure whether to believe her words. They were shocking, but certainly rang true from what he knew of Eleanor. And he had seen Marian looking through John’s papers. “She will protect you, you are certain?”

Marian nodded. “I am certain of it. I have long been one of her favorites, and I’ve done what she wished. And I suspect that when she learns how you’ve acted to protect the people of Nottinghamshire in the face of John’s greed, she’ll have much to say to the king. He loves her above all people, you know. And she loves England too. More so than the king himself.”

“I know that.” Then he looked at her. “You believe I’ve protected the people? Only two days ago you accused me of senseless cruelty and dark deeds.”

“But is that not what you wanted me-and all-to think? How was I to know that you and Robin worked together? Once I realized that, I understood most of it. But why did you burn the houses? That I cannot comprehend. I do not believe you did it out of cruelty. But why?”

He could not help it. Her faith in him, her understanding, and her bravery brought his hand forth to touch her hair, sliding his fingers down over a thick lock to caress her smooth arm. Even though he knew it was folly to prolong this. He should be setting her away, leaving, then sending her off to safety.

“The houses were old and falling apart. They were dangerous and needed to be replaced, but I thought if they were rebuilt on the far side of the village, where John does not go, he would not see them. New buildings would be too much a sign of prosperity for him to resist, and he would ask for more than they could give-they are already so overtaxed for this bloody war.”

“And so you made a show of burning them in order to further blacken your reputation.” Marian was nodding. “And then Robin was tasked with helping to rebuild the houses. With your help in the way of resources. Lumber and other, aye, Will? Is that how it was? And you would meet with him or leave messages to tell him where and how to get the materials?”

He nodded. How had she figured it all out? No one else had seen through it. Then he noticed she was looking down, as if ashamed. “What is it, Marian?”

“I felt so badly for Robin all of this time-believing he was a hero while being painted an outlaw, a lawless man. How difficult it must be, I believed, for him to be thought so evil while he did so much good. But now I realize it was you all along. How you were hated and feared because of what we saw-or were meant to see-while all along you were the hero. You were the one who made sure the villagers were cared for, and the woods kept safe.” She lifted his battle-scarred hand to her lips, looking at him.

“I had already begun to love you before I knew that, and I confess, I fought the feelings. I didn’t want to love such a loathsome man . . . but you were so kind to me, I could not-”

He snorted in disbelief. “Kind to you?”

The look she gave him was melting and sent a new wave of affection and desire coursing through his body. “You were most kind to me in John’s chambers. Did you think I did not know what you were doing? Protecting me, giving me pleasure, all the while pretending to be as evil as he? Refusing to allow me to touch you when it was clear you wanted me to?”

He looked away. When she spoke it like that, he almost believed he’d done the right thing.

“If you’d not been there, I cannot imagine what it would have been like.”

He didn’t know what to do with these feelings she roused in him, so he pulled her close and buried himself in the warmth and comfort of Marian.

It was many hours later that they disengaged themselves as a knock came at the door. The maid poked her head around, eyes wide and looking everywhere but at Will. The sun had risen long ago, and it must be near the midday meal.

“Begging pardon,” said the maid. “But word has come that the prince is looking for you, my lord.”

“Better me than you,” Will said to Marian as he slipped from her bed. Duty beckoned. His knees were a bit weak, but he felt more alive and awake than he had for years. “Does he know that I am here?” he asked the maid sharply.

“I have not told anyone of your presence,” she said. “As you ordered, my lady. ’Tis just that the news has come from below that he is looking for you.”

“Aye,” Will said, relieved at that bit of information. He looked at the maid, whose name he would someday have to learn. “I task you to bring this day the meals to my lady, for she is ill and is not to be disturbed.”

He dressed quickly and left, reluctant, but knowing that Marian would be safe as long as he spread the word she was ill and she remained in the chamber.

John received him in his private chambers, which in the light of day appeared tawdry and base. The stink of illness, plus old wine and coupling, permeated the well-lit space, reminding Will yet again of how fortunate he was to have found more than the mere act of coupling with Marian.

The prince wasted no time. Having fully recovered from his illness, he was possessed of great energy and plans. “Robin Hood shall be hung,” he began. “On what day?”

“A sennight hence,” Will told him, presuming that the queen would have arrived by then and all would be sorted out. But now that Locksley had gone away, it didn’t really matter whether the outlaw was identified as Robin Hood.

“Good. Aye, ’tis a good thing that he has been captured at last. And now you must find the rest of his men. Go you into the forest and round them up. Without their leader, I trow it shall be as simple as coddling a babe.”

“Aye, my lord,” Will said. He’d go into the forest, but Robin and his men would be long gone. He’d return with the tale and evidence of the dispersal of the outlaws, and all would be settled.

While he was in the forest, he would set a watch for the approach of the queen’s traveling wagons. The sooner he learned of her approach, the better he’d feel.

“At once, Nottingham. I have waited much too long.”

“Aye, my lord,” Will said, keeping his voice easy and mellow as always. “I will attend to it at once.”

Just as he was about to dismiss him, John lifted his hand and beckoned. A large man-at-arms appeared from the door of the chamber. “I shall send Jem with you. He is quite handy with the sword, and I do not wish for any of those outlaws to escape.”

Will felt a prickle of unease down his spine. John had never bestirred himself to send any of his men with him before. But he merely nodded and smiled as if privileged that a royal servant would assist him in his task.

Yet as he left John’s chambers, the muscular Jem behind him, the back of Will’s neck felt exposed. He gripped his sword’s hilt unobtrusively, knowing he must remain on his guard. When they reached the bridge from the inner yard to the village, Will paused and spoke with the watchman so that he could measure Jem for a moment.

“Any sign of approaching travelers? Large trains with great amounts of baggage?” Will asked, eyeing the prince’s man. He carried a long sword and a leather-bound shield, the latter of which was not only unnecessary but unwieldy when tracking outlaws in the wood. Either he did not know any better, or he had been ordered to do so.

Will’s sense of unease lifted a notch and he did a quick scan of the bailey as he continued his conversation with the watchman.

“Nay, my lord sheriff. Naught but a small group of a dozen men coming from the east. They are traveling quickly, but do not appear to be a threat.”

Will nodded absently, for he’d just seen Bruse, Marian’s master-at-arms, crossing the yard. He hailed him and pulled quickly away from Jem before the other man could think to follow him and listen in.

“Your lady. Keep close with her. She is very ill and cannot be disturbed,” was all Will had a chance to say before Jem approached.

Bruse’s sharp eyes met his, and Will saw understanding and determination. Aye. Good.

Then he swung away, Jem and four of the sheriff’s other men following as they went off into the forest.

The back of Will’s neck still itched. He might be in danger, but Marian would be safe.

Marian dared not leave her chamber, but she found the space confining after Will left. She worked on a piece of embroidery that had long suffered neglect, and then found herself pacing the room.

The sun was high in the sky, warming the chamber as much as it ever could, when the door opened. There stood Prince John, with a goggle-eyed Ethelberga cowering behind him.

“Ah, Lady Marian,” he said in his smooth voice. “I see that, contrary to rumor, you’ve recovered from your illness quite well. I’m delighted that you’re feeling better, for I no longer have to delay my congratulations to you for winning the golden arrow.”

He extended his arm in an offer that she could not refuse.

She did not even have the chance to retrieve the sleeping draught that Alys had made for her, for John took her arm and escorted her quickly from the chamber.

CHAPTER 18

“Why, Lady Marian, you seem a bit reluctant,” John said. He had seated her on the edge of the massive bed and now stood in front of her.

It was the middle of the day, an hour past the midday meal. That fact alone made her feel out of sorts, for she’d never been summoned to John’s apartments other than at night. A single guard had been posted outside the door, and other than she and the prince, there was no other person present in the chambers. It felt odd to be in this place of hedonism in the full sunlight, with all its accoutrements showing in full, garish detail. The empty restraints, the massive bed with the curtains pulled away, the table of half-eaten food and drink and its array of crumbs and crusts and spills. The heavy smells of profligacy seemed particularly foul in the full light of day.

Marian swallowed and tried to appear as if the very thought of John’s hands on her didn’t make her skin crawl with revulsion. She looked up at him, at his greedy dark eyes and full red lips, and kept her face blank.

“I am reluctant, my lord,” she said. Had a woman ever told him nay? Mayhap he thought she was willing, or, at the least, not averse to sharing his bed. After all, he was the prince and likely heir to the throne. Most women would not complain at the chance for the wealth, privilege, or power that came with being a royal mistress.

“Is that so?” he asked, reaching to touch her hair. She hadn’t bound or otherwise confined it, and now it streamed over her shoulders and pooled on the bed. “I am sorry for that, for ’tis much more enjoyable with a willing partner.”

“My lord, please. I am flattered by your kindness and your attentions, but I pray, please release me. I have no desire to share your bed.” There. She’d spoken plainly. If he had any conscience, he would release her.

“ ’ Tis a disappointment that you feel thus, Lady Marian,” he said, stepping closer to her. His leg brushed her gown and the wayward edge of his tunic’s hem curled atop her lap. “For I shall not release you.”

His hands cupped the top of her skull and smoothed down over the long strands of hair along her shoulders and arms.

“Please, my lord.”

“Stand,” he ordered, his tone brisk and his eyes bright, as he pulled her to her feet. “I would see you clothed in naught but your hair.”

Marian stood reluctantly, and glanced toward the chamber door. Will could not know she was here. He was busy with his duties and thought her safely in her chamber.

But what could he do about it, in any event, if he knew?

In fact, it would be best if he did not know.

The realization struck her then. If Will found out she was here with the prince, he would react angrily, possibly violently. He’d already said it: There is naught I can do but violence.

Violence against the prince? That would be treason and would destroy his honor. Either he’d die or he might as well be dead, for he’d abhor himself for turning against his liege.

Marian felt nauseated, and it had little to do with the fact that John had not waited for her to remove her kirtle. He had begun to untie the string at the neckline and was tugging it off her shoulders.

“Oh, and did I forget to mention”-John lifted the kirtle up and over her head; she raised her arms reluctantly and it slipped off, leaving her naked-“that Nottingham will be unable to join us? I’ve sent him off on a task that should take a good while.” He smiled knowingly at her, brushing away the hair that had fallen into her face. “So you need not watch the door.”

She braced herself when he leaned forward to kiss her, suffering the full, wet lips over hers and the hands that never seemed to stop touching her hair: brushing, combing, wrapping, lifting it.

Marian closed her eyes, realizing that it was best this way. If she did not fight him, if she pretended to participate or at least allowed him to do what he wished, it would be over sooner. It would be no worse than submitting to Harold’s fumblings. And once she escaped from his chamber, she would hide and he’d never find her.

And, most important, Will would never find out. She shivered.

Did he not realize whatever the prince did to her meant nothing? Naught more than her husband pumping and groaning over her?

“Ah, so you do like that,” John murmured, lifting his face from her neck, where he’d been gently biting along her shoulder. “I am not surprised. You are a passionate woman. I’ve seen evidence of it.”