Everything I Do: a Robin Hood romance (Rosa Fitzwalter Book 1) (32 page)

He recognized it now as the first time he felt seriously inadequate in regards to  the responsibility of taking care of a woman in the forest. Afterwards, of course, the only thing that he consciously knew was that he was hopeless and helpless. And stupid.

Oh, God, how stupid
.

Not to see what was in front of his eyes.

That particular night it was raining heavily, and the men were gathered tightly inside. The place was packed, but they still managed to make merry, and suddenly his eye caught Rosa, sitting alone in a corner, nodding off to sleep, although it wasn’t yet dark.

He was attempting to stay away from her at the time, but he felt it would be safe to go near her now, since she was asleep and oblivious to her surroundings. This way at least the gnawing need to be close to her would be quenched for a few precious moments.

He got up and sat beside her, and then he fell to watching her sleep.

The firelight made her look particularly pale tonight, and all day it had seemed to him she’d moved without a spring to her step, as though every movement was a bit painful. For the first time she had refused to cover her hair and follow him into the forest.

That’s it, right there. That’s how I should have known.

But he didn’t. So he watched the shadows her long eyelashes cast against her cheeks, and before he knew it, he was reaching out a finger to caress her soft cheek. Immediately she jerked awake, blinking disoriented eyes towards the fire.

Robin’s eyebrows met in concern.

“Rosa,” he said, and as she turned to look at him, he studied her face anxiously.

Her cheeks looked flushed as though with fever, and there were large dark shadows under her eyes. He thought of her decision to stay behind at the camp this morning, as well as of her suddenly falling asleep like that, which wasn’t something she ever did, with sudden alarm.

“Are you not well?” he asked tightly.

She smiled, but it was a wan smile, and did nothing to calm his fears.

“I am perfectly well, thank you,” she replied. “A bit tired simply.”

“Of course.”

That had made sense to him. He breathed a bit more easily.

“You should go to sleep immediately,” he said. “Come, I want to watch you climb those branches safely, before I can have any peace of mind. The steps are made slippery by the rain.”

He helped her to her feet, and when they got out they found that the rain had thinned to a drizzle. Everything around them was drenched, and their boots sunk in the mud, but at least they themselves were dry.

He led her to the oak tree, but halfway there she stopped him.

“I think today I’ll be sleeping in my old cabin,” she said.

“What? No, I will not have it,” he replied. “I won’t have you lay down on the mud to sleep. Come on, we’re almost there.”

She looked at him as though she wanted to argue further, but then she seemed to think it was futile -and indeed it would have been, for he would have insisted. So she swallowed with difficulty and walked silently to the rope ladder, which was hanging from the lower branches of the oak tree, reaching almost to the ground.

She placed a hand on the rope, and hesitated.

My God
, Robin thought now, as he remembered.
I wish I could go back in time and strangle myself.

“Goodnight, my d-, Rosa,” he whispered to her, stopping himself just before he called her his dear, or something even more intimate, and he reached to take her hand in his but at the last minute he drew back. He knew he couldn’t trust himself to only touch her fingers. “Sweet dreams,” he rasped, his breath suddenly coming short.

She turned to the ladder, but did not make a move to climb.

He waited, watching a bat take flight from a nearby treetop, blending in with the night.

“Master,” a small voice said.

“Rosa?” he turned to her in alarm, for he’d heard something in her voice that frightened him.

“I… I’m afraid I am going to need assistance,” she whispered, as though she was worried that the night would hear her and mock her.

At first he looked at her, puzzled. Then he took in the ladder, and her hesitation to climb it, and understood.

Fear gripped him again. She had never needed any help before, climbing on and off trees with no thought to danger. He wanted to press her again, to make her tell him what the matter was, but he could see it embarrassed her to ask for assistance, and he simply nodded and offered his hand.

“I am right here,” he said as calmly as he could. “Give me your hand, I’ll help you up.” She still hesitated. “Then I’ll climb right behind you, and I’ll be here all the way,” he continued.

She leaned on him, rather heavily, in order to reach the first step, and he felt her slender form trembling, so he tightened his hands around her waist. In a minute they began their slow ascent and he was satisfied that she was steady enough to let her on her own. He watched her every step from behind with the eyes of an eagle, ready to catch her if she fell, but until the tenth or so step she seemed to be fine and she climbed steadily, if a bit slowly. They climbed some more, and were almost to the top. Then, suddenly, she stopped.

She turned back to look down at him and her face was whiter than a ghost’s. Before he could even speak, she fell.

Extending his arm frantically towards her to stop her fall, he managed to catch her hand and then her waist as she drooped downwards, just in time. Then he dragged her towards him, trying not to let go of the rope at the same time. The ladder swayed dangerously, and for a moment he thought he would lose his footing and drop her.
No!
he commanded himself, fiercely, and grabbed on to a branch to steady himself.

He gripped her more firmly, and the ladder beneath his feet, until it stopped dancing wildly.

He was shaking from hand to foot, afraid as he had been very few times in his life, if any, as he propped her head onto his shoulder, supporting her, and attempted to make her respond.

She opened her eyes soon enough.

“Master…” she mumbled.

“Can you put your arms around my neck?” he asked her urgently, his chest heaving, his heart beating madly.

She did as he said, obediently, and they climbed the remaining two steps safely. As soon as they were inside, she let go of him, and stumbled on the wooden planks, where she landed on her knees.

Robin, still shaking, leaned against the wall.

When he saw she couldn’t pick herself up, he rushed to her side and knelt next to her, taking her arm. She pushed him away, evading his touch. He leaned back, as though she had burned him, his heart aching with the memory of how she had pushed him away like that only once in the past, back when she had been afraid of him, when she’d thought him to be her enemy.

Then she turned to look at him, and he saw that her eyes were full of tears.

“Oh,” he exclaimed involuntarily, his heart lurching inside him.

He pressed his lips together and tried to get a grip on himself.

Slowly, she turned and curled in a ball, hugging herself as though trying to stop the pain from spreading.

“You are unwell,” Robin said abruptly, his voice gruff, trying to keep the panic at bay. Then, more kindly, “what is the matter? What is it? What’s wrong? Why are you-?” The word burst from him like a frantic prayer. “Please.”

Still she did not speak.

She turned away again, and lay down on the hard wooden planks, her back to him. He wanted to put his hand on her shoulder, which was shaking with her sobs, but he daren’t lest she push him away again.

“Rosa. Rosa. Tell me,” he almost shouted finally. “What is it? Are you ill? Why didn’t you tell me when I asked? I nearly lost you, down there; you almost fell to your death!”

The sobs subsided.

“I beg of you, tell me, lest I go mad with worry,” he repeated more gently, his words sounding like a moan.

She murmured something against the wall, but he didn’t catch it.

“What did you say? Rosa, listen to me, I beg you, you would not conceal a thing like that from me, you
would
tell me if you were sick, or hurt, wouldn’t you?”

“I am not sick or hurt,” she said, a bit more clearly.

“Then what is the matter? Why did you almost faint out there?”

“I am sorry that I put you in danger,” she replied. “It was foolish of me and irresponsible.”

“Never mind that,” Robin said, barely controlling his voice. He felt like exploding. “
I
wasn’t in any danger. Only my heart nearly stopped from fright. What happened? Will you tell me now?”

Silence.

Robin clenched his fists, waiting.

Then, she spoke.

“It is… It is my monthly- my womanly complaint, master.”

The surprise pulled him to his feet.

He did not dare speak after that. The moments passed, and neither of them moved. He, standing there, slim and tall, dwarfing the whole cabin, stunned, ashamed, remorseful. She, lying on the wooden floor, facing the wall, not turning to look at him.

He pressed a fist to his lips.

“I see,” he said finally. “Right, you are… Oh, God, I am so sorry.” He ran his hands through his hair, taking a shuddering breath. “And are you feeling…? No, of course you are not.”

He stopped himself.

“If I may ask,” he said a minute later, kneeling next to her again, his voice as tender as he could make it, “is it always so bad as that?”

She lifted one shoulder.

“Sometimes,” she said, still facing away from him.

“And you have been feeling like this for days?” he pressed on.

“No, only today.”

He laid a tentative hand on her shoulder. She did not move.

“Do not… do not be embarrassed, my lady, I beg you, the fault is entirely mine,” he said slowly. “And if there was any shame in this moment, it would have to be mine as well, for not understanding what was right before my eyes. I have… I have not had much chance to live among women, or I would not be so insensitive to your needs. Will you… will you forgive me?”

She moaned.

He was immediately alert.

“My lady,” he whispered, swallowing hard. “You are in much pain?” he asked quietly.

She nodded, a heartbeat later.

“You have been all day?”

“No, not all day,” her voice came muffled, choked.

He pressed his palm against her back and stood up.

“I’ll be back in a minute,” he said. “Is there anything else you need, besides cloths and warm water?”

At that she slowly turned his way. He saw she had both hands pressed against her stomach and his heart constricted. He wanted to place his own hands there, to comfort her as much as he could, to help her, to heal her. To take the pain away; to take it on himself, if possible.

She didn’t raise her eyes to his.

“How will you bring it all the way up here?” she asked.

“I will,” he said simply. “What else?”

“Nothing,” she replied. “Only… one thing, perhaps.”

“Anything.”

“I…” she stopped, hesitating.

“You are unwell again?” he asked quickly, leaning down.

“No… I just don’t wish anyone to know of… of my weakness, I fear that…”

“There is not even a need to mention it,” he interrupted her.

He was back a few moments later, with a cup of honeyed wine, a bucket of hot water and an armful of cloths. He laid them down next to her, as softly as he could, and stayed there, watching her back helplessly.

“Thank you,” she tried to say, but it came out as a whimper.

He fell on his knees beside her.

“Rosa. My dear girl. What can I do?” he asked, his voice hoarse. “Tell me what to do to bring you some comfort.”

“Please get out,” she said.

“What?”

“I need you to get out right now,” she repeated, her voice growing faint.

He left immediately, but he spent the entire night at the root of the tree, regardless of the rain, listening for sounds of distress, for any sign that she needed him.

His men knew better than to ask him, the following morning, where he had spent the night, and he climbed up the tree to look in on her. She was sleeping then, but a few hours later, when he peeked in at her door again, her large eyes were looking for him, as though she had been listening for his footsteps.

As soon as he came into view, she averted her gaze.

He was beside her in two strides. Gently but firmly he took her chin in his rough fingers and turned her face towards him.

“Let’s have none of that, my Rosa,” he said, “or I will assume you are reproaching me for last night.”

“I am reproaching myself,” she replied, “and my folly in showing my weakness to you.”

“There is no folly, no weakness, but in what you just said. Now, look at me.”