What A Scoundrel Wants (29 page)

The second angel flew at him across the dells of the Loxley estate. Atop a steed, she could not have been a mortal woman. With the falling sun at her back, her face silhouetted, she rode with reckless skill. Dark hair raced behind her in fat plaits. Animal and angel galloped ever closer, never touching the ground. They dared to fly.

But unlike the sensation of peace he had tasted in Jerusalem, he felt only anticipation at the sight of this unearthly creature. He wondered why he would be blessed with such a vision now. When he arrived at the manor, he would have to ask Marian if all was well—

Marian.

The angel materialized into a woman, his woman. She raced with the impulsive abandon of a girl, one without worries or heavy years. A grin as broad as the valley animated her features.

“Robin!”

Never had a more glorious sound touched the world.

To his second he called, “Ride on, Hargrave. We shall arrive shortly.”

The riders in his entourage continued their steady, tired trek to the manor, passing their mistress with courteous nods. Her eyes never left his, barreling closer. Robin vaulted from his steed. Marian soared into his arms. They collapsed in a commotion of limbs and laughter.

She kissed him. Like a blessing, his angel kissed him. And he could only say her name, a chant, a plea to God to make his dream real.

Victory, hardship, and long, long years melted into the grass. She stretched across him, hands frenzied with the need to touch. Her curves and sighs hardened him with a quickness to leave him gasping. His armor kept her distant. He wanted to pull her to him, tight, flesh to flesh.

“My love,” she said, at once breathy, at once laughing. “My love, you are home.”

Joy trampled him. He dropped his head to the soft earth and sighed. “Our Lord be praised, yes—I am home.”

His joy reflected in her eyes, eyes bright with tears. She petted his face. “I don’t trust what I see.”

“I’m here,” he said, pulling her to his mouth again. Tasting her made her real. In his dreams, he had never been able to taste her, no matter his desperation. “And for wont of a few more trees, I would claim you.”

She grinned, a sinful tease. “You are considerate of my virtue, husband.”

“Until we’re indoors.”

“Then let’s away.”

A horse neighed. Robin glanced at the pair and laughed. “By the way you rode that animal, I would have sworn it was a champion steed to carry the finest warrior into battle.”

She tossed a quick look to the bareback plow horse and shrugged. “Once I saw you from atop the lookout, waiting for my own horse to be saddled seemed a torture. I climbed atop the nearest I could find.”

“You’re not the angel I imagined,” he said. “You’re a wicked fiend.”

“Let me prove it to you.”

She caught his lower lip between her teeth, pushed her hips to his. The groan he heard must have been his, but his conscious mind seemed far removed from the man whose wife straddled him in an open field.

“Marian,” he gasped. “Enough, please.”

Her breasts pushed against the ornate embroidery at her bodice. With a last kiss, a gentle good-bye and a promise for more, she sat up. The cold wind frosted her cheeks to a ruddy pink. She smoothed wayward curls from her face. “Just as well,” she said, calming. “Your armor is a nuisance to lovemaking.”

“You may help me remove it.”

He climbed behind her on his steed and pulled his fur mantle across their bodies. Marian nestled into his arms. The second horse loped behind.

“Robin?”

“Yes, my love?”

She hesitated. “Will has come home.”

Cold invaded the mantle. “Will Scarlet?”

“Yes.”

“He’s come back?”

“Yes,” she said. “Some days thence.”

“I did not expect that.” Emotion thickened his words. Sudden, sharp pain sliced at his contentment. A conflicting sense of disappointment and failure poisoned those tiny cuts.

Will Scarlet. God protect him and damn him.

“Why? What does he need?”

“You’re right to suspect that he would not return without strong motivations.” She straightened but did not meet his eyes. “He is married.”

“What?”

“I was surprised as well,” she said. “Of late, there has been trouble in Nottingham from the newest sheriff. Soldiers attacked them at Meg’s cabin. She was badly injured, and Will came here for aid.”

“You admitted him.”

She fixed him with a prickly stare. “Of course I did.”

“And he offered no explanation for why he left?”

“Do you think I required an explanation before offering care?” Holding her was like holding a tree branch.

“No, but answers from him would be courteous.”

“Robin, his wife lay unconscious in his arms. He came for her sake. I thought nothing of your grudges, nor did I behave to spite you.”

“Where is he now?”

“Probably with Meg.” She hesitated again, the wind teasing strands of hair from her plait. “She is blind.”

“Because of the fire?”

“No. She has been for many years.”

The horse took them nearer to the manor, toward the stables, but Robin held the reins carelessly. He shook his head. “Will returned and married a blind woman. I’ve missed a lifetime.”

She wove cold fingers into his hair, massaging the tight muscles of his neck. “It feels that way.”

“I suppose I’ll have to speak with him tonight.”

“’Tis evening,” she said. “Let them rest. You, come and rest. We’ll have time enough for reunions tomorrow.”

Her optimism offered no relief. The prospect of bridging the gulf separating him from his disloyal nephew held no charm. The distance may as well have spanned Christendom. That Will had abandoned Marian and young Robert—the knowledge twisted in his mind, a betrayal of trust he could not forgive. Enduring anger tempted Robin to burn whatever bridges remained.

But he held his wife in his arms, safe, warm, and right. The evening stretched like a marriage bed before them, replete with promises. Whatever conflict stood between him and Will would wait until the sun returned.

“Yes, in the morning,” he said. “Now where is our son?”

Her deep brown eyes met his. She banished all misgivings and smiled, stealing his heart anew. “He’s sleeping. His room is on the way to ours.”

A small fire burned in a cauldron, shaking the chill from their room. But he shivered. He knew no peace, no rest, because Meg still suffered. And Robin was home.

He had watched from the lookout as Marian tore across the knoll to meet her husband. Her happiness shone like a beacon, a ward against evil. Their reunion, a sweet collision of lovers long separated, covered his eyes with unshed tears. He had wanted to greet his uncle at the gates upon their homecoming. Instead, he slunk into the manor, his cowardice returning in force.

Morning dissipated the cowardice but a little. He would face his uncle like a warrior. But like a boy, he wanted to lean on the man who had taken up the role of his father. He wanted to confess his worries and deeds. The threat of rejection made a laughingstock of his childish wishes, just as pride demanded that his uncle look upon him man to man.

When Alice gently rapped at the door, he permitted her entrance to administer Meg’s morning treatments. “Shall I stay with her, Master Will, while you break your fast?”

“I thank you, Alice.”

“She’s no trouble to me,” she said, kneeling with her tray of remedies and fresh bandages.

He kissed Meg on the forehead. Standing straight, he tugged into place the tunic Marian’s tailor had fashioned for him. A deep breath later, he left Alice to her ministrations and strode down the main staircase. Loxley Manor buzzed with the excitement of its entire household, all smiling and adding an extra zeal to mundane chores. Their master had returned safe and whole. Will envied their pure regard for Robin.

He combed fingers through his hair and made a silent vow. He was a man, not a boy, and he would not back from obligations to his family, to the truth. And he would not give Robin any more cause to despise him than he already possessed.

You are brave. You are good.

A smile touched his mouth. Mad, strange witch that she was, he placed his trust in her regard.

His shadow in the doorway stalled all conversation within the dining hall. A dozen sets of eyes turned in his direction. Robin dropped his gaze and the bread he held, but Marian smiled.

“Good morrow, Will,” she said. “How is Meg?”

“Sleeping, thank you. Alice is tending her.”

A flick of her dark eyes dismissed the servants. She ushered him to the table where Robin took to his feet. They stood as would adversaries, arms stiff. A tension Will had never seen in his uncle warped the slope of Robin’s shoulders. New wrinkles scored his face.

Cold blue eyes met his. “Hello, Will.”

“Robin,” he said with a nod. “I’m glad to see you safely returned.”

“And I was surprised to learn of your homecoming.”

“Marian has been kind in offering her assistance. We shall trouble you no longer than Meg’s care requires.”

“Meg. Your wife, yes?”

“Yes. I await the opportunity to make your introductions.”

Robin caught sight of the bothersome splint binding Will’s thumb. “And you’ve had trouble with the new sheriff, I hear tell.”

His jaw clicked. “Nothing beyond my measure.”

Although he appeared unconvinced, Robin did not contradict. His wife glanced between them and mumbled an excuse to smooth her departure. They settled at the table, alone, and the wall between them thickened.

They ate in silence. The bread dried his mouth and made a chore of swallowing. Every sound echoed in the hall and aggravated the open wound between them. After a long swig of ale, he found words to break their silence. “You were at Châlus with Richard when he died?”

“Yes,” Robin said, his mouth a grim line. “Senseless. All of it.”

“And you wonder why I didn’t volunteer.”

Robin leaned back from the table, arms crossed. “I do, rather. You knew your duty.”

So this will be our field of battle.

“Are you speaking as my uncle or my liege?”

“Both.”

“This has naught to do with my refusal to go to France.” Anxiety tingled the backs of his legs. “This has to do with why I left Loxley Manor.”

Robin drove his fists into the table. Broth sloshed from shallow bowls. “I trusted you! You promised to stay, to look after the manor in my absence. Instead, you disappeared. You left my wife and son vulnerable.”

Will took to his feet, slowly, glaring. “Marian is not my wife. Robert is not my son.”

“I was called upon by the king. I had no choice.”

“You of all people taught me that we always have choices.”

“You were a coward.”

“And I just made another choice.” He jabbed a finger at his uncle’s tunic. “I’ll keep my fists off your face.”

Robin caught his wounded forearm and twisted, pulling them into an awkward dance. “You walked away from your family.”

Will yanked his arm free and backed away. “I walked away from Marian, you fool! And that was one of the noblest things I’ll ever do.”

Blue eyes turned to lead. Robin blinked, mouth ajar. “What does that mean?”

“Ask your wife. Mine needs me.”

Bone weary, he wanted only to rest, to hold Marian in his arms, to undertake the future he had delayed by obeying Richard’s call to arms. But an undeniable restlessness covered his skin, poisoning thoughts of peace and home.

Part of his dissatisfaction stemmed from his return to a life free of warfare and battlefield sacrifices. The other portion began and ended with Will Scarlet. He would not know peace until he ended their long disagreement. But how Marian figured in the dispute, he could not figure.

The worst scenario, that Will and Marian had become lovers, afflicted him like a cankerous sore. But the possibility rang false, even in his darkest imaginings.

Will and Marian? He could not believe it of either. He would not.

“Husband, you are distressed.”

He turned to find Marian standing in the arched doorway.

Lit by that ghostly white light, her skin glowed with the radiance of silver. A wide, embroidered neckband displayed the elegant curve of her collarbone, the slender length of her neck. Silken ribbons twisted around her hair to form four long ropes, but a gentle halo of unruly curls teased him. Beneath the finery was the wild woman he cherished. He yearned to let loose her plaits and glory in his beautiful maiden.

“Robin?”

Will. He wanted to talk about Will.

But Marian…he needed her.

“I am distressed,” he said at last. Striding to the cauldron, he took up a poker and nudged the coals. The small fire could not banish the autumn cold. He shivered, pulling his fur-lined cloak more tightly around his body.

She touched his shoulder. “What troubles you?”

“More like who.”

“Will? What has he done?”

“I am to ask that of you.”

She nodded, regarding him with a look he could not interpret.

As if eternally trapped in the terrifying moments before a battle, his knees weakened. The question pounded against his temples with repetitive strikes. Robin cleared his throat, willing the courage to hear her reply.

“What happened between you both, before he left the manor?”

He silently pleaded for Marian to slap him, to shout and rail over the absurdity of his accusation. Instead, she stepped away. His stomach shrank into a lump of ice.

“He kissed me.”

The ice melted, replaced by molten fury. “I’ll kill him.”

He twirled away from the cauldron, those embers mild and pale compared to the flaring heat of his anger. Keen eyes caught sight of his sword, his bow, his quiver of lethal arrows. He gathered all three before Marian’s pleas reached his fevered brain.

“Robin! Robin, please, stay your ire and talk to me.”

Will Scarlet. His own nephew.

“You did not tell me?” His shout circled the room like a feral wind. He dropped the weapons with a clattering crash, making her flinch. He wanted to see her flinch again, to injure her in return.

A tiny furrow etched between her brows. “I was ashamed, Robin. Ashamed. Please understand. I feared what you would think of me.”

“But he kissed you.” The distinction seemed important, the only thing left for him to grasp before hurtling over a waterfall. “The fault is not yours.”

She shook her head slowly, sending shivers through her wrapped hair. “You blame only Will. In that, you are mistaken.”

“You returned his feelings?”

“No, and nor do I now.” Her body leaned toward his, but she stayed rooted like a tree. “He paid me a lovely compliment, one that I enjoyed too much. Because I valued our future, yours and mine, I asked him to leave. For good.”

He said her name on a rough exhale.

“Robin, I wanted a life with you, and I still do.” Two tentative steps closed the distance between them. “I love you.”

“I thought I knew that.”

Tears leaked from the corners of her eyes, tears she did not seem to notice. “Forgive me, Robin. Please.”

The sight of her crying, the tremor of fear—he could do little to resist her. He drew her into his arms. Her body sagged against his, overwhelmed by sobs. Robin pet damp wisps of hair from her face. “I can do naught but forgive you after all I’ve asked you to bear.”

He cupped her cheeks. “But…Will?”

She pulled from his embrace, shoulders tight. Her voice toughened. “I half wonder if you would have reacted differently had he been anyone else.”

“Nonsense.”

“He is a man, Robin.” Dark eyes still beset by tears shone with a fierce and unexpected fire. “Through your guidance and tutelage, he has become a fine man indeed. One to be proud of, to respect. And the only two people on this earth who cannot see that are Will Scarlet and you.”

She fled, her words stinging like a nest of hornets. He hung his head. An ache of unreleased tension pulled at his neck. No encounter in his life left him as defeated.

An undeniable impulse to release his anguish jerked through his veins, powering his body without thought. Pain and instinct determined his actions as he took up his sword.