Everything I Do: a Robin Hood romance (Rosa Fitzwalter Book 1) (27 page)

“I would be honored,” Rosa answered carefully.

“This is the original,” he said and his voice trembled with pride.

She opened the pendant delicately and gasped when she saw the picture inside.

It couldn’t possibly be. She looked at it mesmerized, her eyes watering, her mind numb with the all the possible explanations.

For the portrait of the little red-haired girl with the laughing emerald eyes, so like Julian’s own, was the same as the one that had hung in her own room at the castle for as long as she could remember.

She blinked, and looked again, concentrating on every detail, trying to find even one difference, trying to make herself wake from the dream. But there were no differences to discover, there was no dream to wake from. The portrait that hung in a wall in her old bedchamber at the castle and this one were so much alike as only an original and its copy could be. They were the same portrait. They were the same girl.

She gasped and immediately winced at the familiar throbbing at her side.

“Are you unwell?” Julian asked with genuine concern, and at that precise moment, she recognized him.

She recognized him from her memories, she recognized him from her dreams. It was he.

And he was real; she hadn’t merely imagined him, the tall, lean boy with the golden hair and the strong arms. She hadn’t simply conjured him up because of her loneliness and danger, he wasn’t an imaginary prince who would one day come and rescue her from her unhappiness. For a long time she had imagined the boy to be a dream, a strange apparition her mind had made up in times of unbearable pain, in order to keep itself from going mad.

But he hadn’t been a dream. He had been real all along, and he was here now before her.

She opened her lips to tell him, and the pendant slipped from her fingers.

With an oath he bent down to retrieve it.

Immediately his eyes hardened with distrust and coldness.

The illusion was gone. The boy from her dreams was nowhere to be seen.

I was wrong after all
, she thought, relieved, but somewhere deep down inside she was disappointed. Maybe she was so tired and anxious that she was imagining things. Such coincidences simply didn’t occur in real life. He couldn’t be the boy from her dreams, because that boy had never existed.

It was an illusion born of pain and hurt, nothing more.

Her breathing calmed, the pain subsided.

“Forgive me for dropping it,” she said. “She was… beautiful,” she finished, for want of another word.

“Women!” he cried bitterly, instead of another answer, “what did I expect? ‘Beautiful.’ Is outward beauty all you can see? Can’t you, for once, look deeper?”

He turned his back on her and faced the wooden wall, cradling the little wooden square in the palm of his hand like a little boy.

The illusion came again, and went, like a recurring dream. 

It was all the same to her, however, because she couldn’t have answered him just then. She had just realized that the fact remained, beyond certainty, beyond the haze of imagination or dream: the fact that the little girl in the portrait was she.

More than an hour passed and Robin wasn’t back yet.

The men had settled down to sleep. Even Sir Hugh, lulled by the warmth of the fire as well as the spicy wine Robin’s men graciously offered him, and exhausted by his exertions, had finally let his guard down and was fast asleep in his little corner. The men had tied him for safety and then promptly forgotten about him.

Rosa got up and slipped out into the cold rain, unnoticed by anyone.

She quickly saddled her horse and set out into the dark forest, through paths she knew so well she could find even blindfolded. Every so often, a bolt of lightning would lighten up the glistening trees and then she would raise her horse in its hind legs and glance quickly around for a glimpse of Robin or his huge black gelding. She couldn’t see any sign of him anywhere, but she knew where she would find him, with almost certainty.

At the eastern edge of the forest there was a steep cliff, where the trees cleared for a few yards before the ground catapulted into the rocky abyss below. It was Robin’s favorite place of refuge from sadness and anxiety, but she had only heard of its whereabouts and never actually been there. Trying to follow the description someone had once given of the place, she finally reached it some time later, dripping and chilled to the bone.

Sure enough, before she could recognize the actual place in the thick darkness of the forest, she saw Robin’s black beast, neatly tied to a tree.

She dismounted and tied her own horse next to it.

As she approached the cliff she could just make out Robin’s silhouette against the backdrop of the midnight-blue sky, his tall and narrow frame drooping, waves of grief and desperation almost visibly drifting from him. The raindrops in his hair glistened and his arms hung clenched tightly at his side, his muscles flexing beneath his soaked, clinging tunic. He was standing exactly on the edge, and she feared to call to him. She stayed and watched him until he looked over his shoulder, sensing her gaze, and saw her.

He knew her at once, even though the night was black as a curse, and walked to her with a brusque step.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, angrily, as she knew he would. “Go back immediately.”

“I wanted to see if you are well, master,” she answered, drawing back at his hostile tone.

“Perfectly well, thank you,” Robin said, spitting raindrops that had nestled on his lips. “Just clearing my head. Thinking about your departure tomorrow, planning our journey.”

“My -what?”

“You are leaving tomorrow,” he replied immediately, in a matter-of-fact tone. “You are going to stay with our good friend, the Duke of Amsley. He’s a good man, he has supported me and my men for years, graciously giving us his gold and almost everything else that is in his power. I have also rendered him a service or two in the past, so he owes me in a way. You will live as the gentlewoman that you are there, and be taken care of. Don’t worry,” he added kindly, as an afterthought.

“I am not leaving,” she said stubbornly.

“Oh, I am afraid you must,” he said, without feeling. “The men are getting tired of you. And so am I.”

It was spoken cruelly, and even though she knew it to be one more of his tricks, she found she couldn’t stand it. She stepped abruptly away from him and, before she knew it, he foot was slipping off the edge.

She caught a glimpse of the gaping void beneath, and the next moment she felt herself sliding into it, its black mouth opening wide to swallow her. She tried to stop her fall, but there was nothing to hold on to, the grass wet and slippery beneath her thick boots.

She had closed her eyes and prepared her body for the pain of the deathly impact, when Robin grabbed her by the arm and pulled her to the ground. Before she had even time to stand properly on shaking feet, he was dragging her to him and away from the edge, with a force that nearly knocked her breath out.

“What are you doing?” he shouted. “Are you out of your mind?”

He kept screaming oaths and curses and crushed her to his chest. And then his lips were on hers, his hands pressing into her hair, touching her hungrily.

He was kissing her so hard it hurt.

She tasted the rain on his lips, she tasted his desperation, his anger. His mouth traveled to her cheek, to her throat. He buried his head in her hair and his shoulders shook as he was gasping for air.

She held him, threading her arms around his neck, holding on for dear life.

“I understand why you’re angry,” she said.

“Let me catch my breath a minute,” he choked against her ear, but she couldn’t stop once she had begun.

“And I’m sorry I did not tell you,” she went on, “especially when you laid the story before me yourself, early on. But I didn’t want to make you feel guilty, as you do now.”

He turned his head aside.

“Don’t you see?” she said. “I would have died anyway. I couldn’t imagine living in a world where you didn’t exist.”

He drew away at that and studied her face.

Then he dropped his hands from her and she trembled with the piercing cold of his absence.

“How am I to reconcile myself with what you did for me?” he quietly asked, tipping his head upwards as though he was directing his question to the dark skies. “How?” He repeated through gritted teeth, his Adam’s apple working.

“Is sending me away a solution?” she asked gently.

“It is, somehow,” he answered. “For I cannot afford to have you put into any more danger, not after knowing what you have done, what you have been through. You deserve some respite after that, you deserve little red-headed children that are the picture of your beauty; you deserve a goose-feathered bed, fine dresses and jewels. You have done enough. I couldn’t let you do any more.”

“I chose to do what I did, master,” Rosa said firmly, and not a little angrily. “No one, not even you,
let
me do it. I came to this forest by myself and I alone decided to stay. Forgive me, but I do not see how it is your decision where I chose to give my life and my… love.”

“I am master of this forest, Stuart,” Robin said in a voice that shook slightly, “have you forgotten that?”

“I have not forgotten, master,” she said. “It seems you have.”

“What do you mean?”

“Where would the forest and its men be now if you had died then? You know…”

“What?”

“Nothing.”

He stood with his back to her and did not turn, but made an angry gesture.

“So now you won’t tell me what you think?” he muttered through clenched teeth.

“I will tell you,” Rosa said with a sigh. “Only you won’t like it.”

“Try me.”

“The first day I came to the forest dressed as Stuart, do you remember?”

A snort answered her. As if he could ever forget!

“You might have,” she murmured. “Anyway, can you imagine what my greatest fear was, what was my only reason for hesitation?”

“Discovery.”

“No, it wasn’t. Not fear that my father would find out, nor that you would discover that I was not a boy and feed me to the fire, like you were rumored to do to traitors.”

At this he turned slightly, so that she could discern his profile.

“‘Feed you to the fire’?” he raised an eyebrow.

“There were tales,” she shrugged.

“Go on,” he said.

“I didn’t even fear that you would laugh at me, as you did, or that you would entirely doubt me, after all the trouble I had gone to.”

“I have regretted…” he started saying in a strangled voice.

“My greatest fear,” Rosa interrupted him, “was that you would remember the girl who had taken the dagger into her heart instead of you. That you would find out
I
was that girl, and that you would hate me for it. That was what made me nearly turn back when I started.”

“I don’t hate you,” he said and buried his hand in his hair.

“Or then react in an extremely immature way, as you do now,” Rosa amended.

“Don’t you realize,” he began and turned to face her at last, “my dear girl, don’t you- Good God! You are completely drenched.”

He stopped, shocked, as if he was taking in her appearance for the first time. She realized that she was shaking uncontrollably, and maybe he was too.

“Come, my mermaid,” Robin said, taking her by the arm, “you will catch cold.”

“What were you going to say?” she insisted through chattering teeth, “What don’t I realize?”

He didn’t answer, only lifted her swiftly on her horse, and went to untie his own.

She tried to settle on her slippery seat, the rain blinding her vision like tears, and found that her fingers were so chilled that she couldn’t hold on to the reins.

She tried to stop the trembling, but her horse shuddered and she knew she was going to fall from her unsteady perch in a minute.

“Robin…” she whispered.

Immediately strong arms were lifting her from the saddle, and then she was cradled in Robin’s arms, seated atop his own mount.

“I must take you out of this water,” he spoke softly into her hair, “or you will bewitch me further with the rubies in your dripping locks and the diamond raindrops on your lips.”

She felt a brush against the top of her head, as if he had placed a kiss there, and then, placing a strong arm around her waist, he commanded his horse to move.

He left her outside her cabin, but knocked again the minute she was in.

“I though I had better build you a fire,” he explained.

Her teeth were chattering so badly now that she couldn’t answer him, so she merely nodded, shakily. He had the fire roaring in a minute, and then turned to see that she hadn’t moved from her place in the corner, huddled and dripping in a growing pool of rainwater that had drained from her clothes.

“I’ll leave you to get out of your wet clothes,” he said but saw that she couldn’t move. “Can… could I help?” he asked finally.

He knelt next to her and tried to pry her frozen fingers away from her waterlogged cloak. She wasn’t trembling any more, and her lips were blue, her eyelids drifting closed.

“No,” he commanded, “stay awake. Rosa, stay with me. I’ll have you warm in a minute.”

He got up and opened the door, shielding its entrance from the cold, blocking it with his body.

“John! Paul! I need you,” he shouted in the direction of the shelter-hut where the men were sleeping a few steps away. In a minute her heard the trap door creak open and knew they had heard him. They came splashing in the rain.

They covered her in furs and Robin undressed her gently underneath them. He skin felt cold and clammy, but still his fingers burned every time they came in contact with its velvety texture. He felt as though fire was cursing through his veins, his breath coming short, his skin afire and he told himself sharply to stop it.

He glanced at her white face every now and then, and once he caught her large eyes looking at him in wonder.

“You are safe, my brave mermaid,” he whispered softly, placing his warm palm against her chilly forehead and brushing away a wet curl, “you can sleep in a minute.”

She closed her eyes once, as if to say that she had heard him.

“I didn’t mean to distress you,” Robin went on. “I see that’s what I did, and I am deeply sorry.”

She tried to smile, and although her lips were still too frozen to move, he understood she forgave him, and smiled back.

“Thank you,” he said, finding that his eyes were suddenly wet. A fat raindrop dropped from his wet hair onto her cheek, and he brushed it away with his thumb.

“I did not yet thank you for saving my life,” he whispered. “I think my behavior was rather ungrateful. I find-” he hesitated. “I find that I have dreamed of thanking that brave, precious girl who saved me at such a price,
her own life
, for a very long time. And now that I have her before me, and she is very much alive, and a princess no less, I have no words to tell you…”

Her eyelids drooped.

“I am tiring you,” he said quickly. “We’ll talk tomorrow.”

Paul gave her a potion to drink, which quickly brought some color to her cheeks and Little John unearthed a pair of clean, thick woolen undergarments that Robin dressed her in to keep her warm.

He went to look in on her a couple of times during the night, but she slept serenely. He checked her forehead and his fears of a fever subsided once he was certain than it was cool. He too had changed into clean clothes, and his men did their best to leave him the largest space available in the shelter-hut, but sleep eluded him completely.

The next day, Sir Hugh was gone before Rosa was awake.

The world seemed new, washed out of its dust and sadness, little pools of rainwater concealed amid the thick, shining tufts of grass.

“Watch out for snakes,” Little John said.

Rosa was careful where she stepped, but found that she had more important matters on her mind. Julian passed her as she was walking to the camp and turned his face the other way. A million questions regarding her discovery plagued her mind, but she pushed them resolutely away.
I can’t think about this now
, she told herself.

She felt she had left her conversation with Robin unfinished, somehow, although she couldn’t remember the events of last night with complete clarity. Their ride from the cliff back to the camp was all in a daze.

When she went to talk to him, she found him hard and remote, and talking of her departure with a sullen-looking -for once- Father Tuck.

“I find I am unable to keep my former promise to you, Rosa,” Robin said and her name sounded harsh on his lips. “We find you no longer necessary here in the forest, the men and I, and we think that you could do more good in the care of the Duke of-”

“Not this again,” Rosa cried, exasperated, “master, we talked about this yesterday…”

“My mind is made up,” he said and there was something in the way he spoke, a grim determination, a sadness, a stubbornness, that told her it was true this time, she was indeed leaving.

She felt the color leaving her cheeks and leaned against a nearby tree for support.

“I hope you didn’t catch cold yesterday,” Robin said and there was a trace in his voice of kindness, “because that would set back our journey by a few days. We are to leave the day after tomorrow. John will come with us, I’ll take no chances. Your vengeful friend may be out there waiting for you.”