Everything I Do: a Robin Hood romance (Rosa Fitzwalter Book 1) (46 page)

“I feel as though staying will somehow atone for the sins I did against my father,” she murmured, her green eyes large and sad and luminous. “I cannot bring myself to marry you when I know the danger it will entail for you and the merry men. I cannot… forgive myself enough to indulge in this forbidden happiness with you.”

“No,” he said, his own eyes red. He knelt before her, never letting go of her hands. “What you’re saying is so wrong, I cannot even begin to…” he swallowed, his Adam’s apple working. “I love you more than my own life! How will you live with… with him?”

She didn’t reply, but only turned her head away.

“Teach me how to persuade you,” he whispered fiercely amid the clatter that was going on around them. “I will not leave you with him. I’d sooner die.”

“Don’t say that,” she cried. “Do you not see? He kept his promise, he let you go, now I have to keep mine. It cannot be otherwise.”

He got up and paced in front of the fire, scowling.

“You do not seriously trust him to have kept his word, do you?” he asked.

“What do you mean?” she asked quickly.

“Ask him,” he said harshly, but then she sat back, her head hanging low, looking so pale, that his heart constricted within him, and with an oath he threw himself at her feet and looked imploringly into her eyes, lifting her chin with his finger so that their gazes met. “My beautiful mermaid,” he whispered, smoothing away a few wet curls from her temple, “I fear you have had your heart broken too many times this past day already.”

“Tell me,” she pleaded through white lips.

“Alan is in the dungeon,” he said softly, watching her face carefully. “I’m so sorry, my rose. I’m so… no, don’t cry so, I can’t bear it.”

She tried to stand, but she stumbled, her knees giving way beneath her. Immediately Robin was there, catching her against him, and holding her safe.

“Do not leave me,” he cried, sounding tormented, but she untangled herself from him, and stepped towards the door, leaning a hand to the wall to steady herself as she walked. He caught up with her in a moment, his long legs swallowing the distance between them in a heartbeat, and took her arm, pressing his lips to her ear as she stood, crying, from behind.

“I will be here tomorrow,” he whispered fiercely. “I’ll be at the church where he plans to marry you, come rain or shine. One gesture, one look of distress from you and I’m at your side.”

She turned her head sideways, not quite meeting his eyes.

“How will I live with myself if I allow your weakness for me to affect your safety… your work…?” she began, but he interrupted her fiercely.

“Hang my work,” he spat. “You are my work, my life, my whole world. Don’t you know that to continue as I was is pointless without you? You… you have consumed me entirely. My darling girl, my little wife, please…”

Suddenly the doors were flung open and a figure stood in the opening. Robin felt Rosa stiffen beneath his touch, and he took in a sharp breath. He made his decision swiftly, sending a prayer to the skies.

“I do not breathe until you are mine,” he told her and the next minute he was gone.

Rosa swallowed hard, trying to steady her heartbeat, and turned to face Sir Hugh across the room, for it was he who stood at the doorway.

“My gentle bride,” he pronounced grandly, and all noise stopped around him, servants quickly running out of the way to let him pass. “I hear you are in danger of contracting a dangerous illness this night by traipsing into the rain when you should be in bed.”

He strode towards her and stopped right before her, fixing her with a challenging look in his eye.

“I had no sleep, my lord,” she said, feeling so bone tired she couldn’t take a step.

Sir Hugh reached out a hand to her, and she, averting her gaze, took it. “Come, my errant little fiancé,” he smiled. “You must regain your strength for the morrow.”

He led her ceremoniously from the room, but as soon as they were in the hallway alone, his face hardened. He took her in his arms suddenly and pressed his lips to her in a demanding, possessive manner. She fought against the disgust and faintness that threatened to overwhelm her, and stayed still in his embrace until his passion would pass.

His mood suddenly changing, he let her go and flung her from him with such violence that she crumbled on the floor.

“This was the last time you shamed me with your outlaw, do you understand?” he asked her calmly. “As we speak he is being trailed by my personal guard, whom I do not harbor much hope that he will escape. You seem to have squandered your advantage most foolishly, my dear. No matter. At least you will learn henceforth to not play me like you have men all your life.”

She did not speak, only concentrated on taking her next breath, and the one after that. She coughed as the tears caught in her throat, and her bridegroom seemed only then to realize the state she was in, and he bent down to take her hand.

“Come,” he said a bit more gently. “You must get out of your wet clothes.”

He left her to the care of two female servants, newly hired from the neighboring village so that there would be no chance of her knowing them. She however was in no mood for talk, but waited patiently until their ministrations were over, and then fell on her bed to spend a sleepless night full of tears and anguish.

And it was thus how the next morning, the morning of her wedding day, found her.

…

Robin Hood stood at the very back of the church, his simple peasant attire ordinary and invisible among the colorful crowd that had gathered to watch their new Sheriff marry the outlawed daughter of the previous one. He chose his place with care, so that he would be in the darkest corner possible, as well as enjoy a strategic view of the bride at all times.

He had to wait for more than half an hour among the crowd for the roads to open enough so that the bride and groom would arrive safely with their retinue, but he hid his anxiousness behind an indifferent smile and pretended to be a simple man of few interests and intelligence in order to avoid conversation. Finally the trumpets sounded, interrupting the steady flow of flutes that filled the air with festive music, and pink and red roses began floating from the ceiling to coat the ground where the bride would walk.

The bridegroom was already in attendance, his attire festive and light-colored, his white-blond hair swept back sleekly, a thin, ornamental sword at his side, and his faithful guards all around him. Sir Hugh was far too clever to take his victory for granted, and he had taken every precaution, from placing a double guard on every Nottingham gate, to having his personal guard at the altar behind him.

The mere fact that he had clearly seen Robin last night, and recognized him, still had only sent a guard to pursue him, not bothering to give chase himself, sent chills down Robin’s spine. For it meant that this Sheriff, much shrewder than the last, had a priority in goals, and that the first among them was making Rosa Fitzwalter his bride. The elation in his eyes right now bespoke of his determination to have her, and Robin, not for the first time, clenched his fists in order to stop himself from flying to the front of the chapel and strangling the man.

He turned his gaze to the door, for the music was changing, becoming sweeter and grander with every pluck of the chords.

The bride was walking down the aisle now, and all eyes were on her, soft exclamations meeting the first sightings of her beauty and grace.

Robin pursed his lips tight, biting his tongue so he wouldn’t call out her name. Her face, he saw at a glance, was white and drawn, and soft bruises were forming beneath her eyes as though she was depraved of sleep. Her back was straight and proud as befit a true princess, but he could discern her sadness in the tightness of her shoulders and the sway of her neck. He would keep his word, however, no matter how much she was suffering; he wouldn’t interfere unless she indicated that she wanted him to.

How had things come to this?

How was it possible that he had lost her, lost everything they had together, within split seconds?

Everyone’s eyes were glued to her lovely figure or her exquisite dress made of shimmering blue silk with a cream overdress matching her veil; but his eyes, searching her frantically for any sign of distress, saw the well-concealed truth. He saw that her step faltered slightly once and that she looked about to faint, leaning on the arm of her escort -a man whom he was seeing for the first time, and whom he was almost certain she was barely acquainted with, being neither a relative nor a friend. Robin was sure she would rather have been escorted by anyone of her faithful servants, instead of this cold, indifferent stranger, at a time like this. He could hardly imagine what was going through her mind, having lost her father and him and everything that made her happy, all in one swoop fell.

Her cheeks remained dry, however, and her chin was lifted defiantly, and he thought with a wry smile how proud he was of her, and how blessed he had been to have her his, no matter how briefly.

He turned heavenwards, with his heart if not his eyes, and thanked the Almighty for the mere existence of this girl who had turned his life upside down.

“Help her,” he thought. He prayed it fervently, and then at the front, Sir Hugh was taking Rosa’s hands in his and looking down at her tenderly, a hint of long-awaited triumph in his eye.

The priest began the liturgy.

Neither by look or by a motion had Rosa indicated that she would search for him among the crowd, her eyes trained in front of her at all times, not even lifting to look up at her almost husband. But right then, as the abbot opened his large, gilded book to read the words of the ceremony, she turned her head in his direction, her eyes finding him exactly in the immense crowd, and her eyelashes fluttered once, an almost imperceptible frown marring her alabaster forehead. It wasn’t even a look, it was less than that. Her gaze didn’t linger on him, and she returned her attention to the bridegroom immediately.

The motion was so swift he wouldn’t have perceived if his entire attention wasn’t focused on her. But it was, and he did.

His heart leapt within him, and the next moment he was moving towards the window, without wasting a single precious minute. His entire being was radiant, his soul soaring to the heavens with joy, and there was no danger, no other people present. Only she, and her beautiful emerald eyes cutting him through, seeing into his very core.

Rosa swayed heavily, and Sir Hugh, blanching himself, reached out a hand to steady her. He asked her quietly if she was well, and the abbot ceased to speak for a moment. Rosa nodded with visible effort, and the groom gripped her arm more securely, his façade slipping for once into an expression of worry and fear.

Robin gritted his teeth and passed his hand along the cold stone wall of the chapel until his fingers found what he was looking for. He gently pulled at a tile he himself had loosened a few hours ago, and the end of a rope, concealed behind it, dropped onto his hand.

He’d come back with a few of his men the previous night to make preparations for a mad scheme, should Rosa signal that she needed his help, and right now this was his only option: that it would succeed in spite of the odds.

The plan was simple. A long cord connected to the ceiling would somehow support him as he flung himself out of the window, and then he would run alongside the castle and jump into the moat.

An ambitious plan to say the least, but he had succeeded in more daring ventures. The difference now was that he was alone, none of his trusted friends with him, and that Rosa’s fate depended upon him entirely. And it was this fact that for the first time made his hands shake and his brow sweat as he threw the rope out the window and then exited the church in a gingerly fashion, shouldering his way through the crowds of children gathered in the yard, clamoring for a glimpse of the bride.

He walked to the back door of the vestuary and climbed atop the steeple from there, knowing as he did that it was a matter of time before someone noticed his strange behavior and alerted the guards.

Still, quick as a cat, he climbed up and then dropped onto a sturdy rafter inside  the chapel’s ceiling below, his boots echoing to his ears, but barely audible to the crowd below him, where the wedding was taking place. He looked down, and silently moved on the ceiling’s wooden beams until he was standing directly above the bride and groom.

In his left hand he had grasped the bell-rope and now he twisted it around his right wrist, freeing his fingers, while his eyes were glued on the thin veil that covered Rosa’s red hair, glowing like fire in the dim candlelight. A few lone rose petals had floated down to rest next to her long train, on one of the few clear spaces inside the entire building, and that’s where he planned to land, albeit briefly.

A choir boy looked up, bored, and caught his eye, mid-yawn. The boy froze, his mouth a perfect circle, and started to take a deep breath, meaning to sound the alarm. Not wasting one breath of a second more, Robin jumped.

Rosa was having difficulty concentrating on the Latin chanting of the wedding ceremony, her mind wandering to pleasant memories of the forest and Robin’s arms. She had promised herself that she would not cry, which seemed now an easy promise to keep, her eyes dry and burning, her legs trembling and refusing to support her after two sleepless nights and endless pacing in the rain.