Lady Thief: A Scarlet Novel (27 page)

“Why did he never make himself known to me?”

“For the same reason I didn’t, my dear. It wasn’t wise.” She waved her hand. “I should like to go to Aquitaine early next year; you shall come with me.”

I pressed my unhurt hand to my heart. Hours ago I would have never thought to leave Nottinghamshire, but if Gisbourne wouldn’t grant me the annulment, I would have to run. There were worse fates than getting to know my grandmother.

Grandmother
.

Her eyes flicked down. “My dear, I may have considerable faith in my son, but I also know his faults very well.”

“I do as well,” I answered overquick, holding up my half hand.

She frowned. “Yes. You do. You must know this was not the way he wanted this tournament to end.”

“He wanted Gisbourne as sheriff.”

“He wanted to control one of the largest and most prosperous counties in England. A key point between the north and south. He has lost that. He isn’t pleased. And when he’s displeased, he can be rather … childish.”

“So why does that mean I must go to France?”

She bristled, opening her mouth as the lady returned with wine. She poured a cup for each of us, and Eleanor waved her out. “Aquitaine is
not
France,” Eleanor said sharp. “Not a bit. Nor is it English. It is Aquitaine. Free from both countries and the richest of all of them. But without you by my side, I don’t know if I can protect you from John’s manipulations, his pettiness. He could hurt you, and I won’t allow it.”

“He’s hurt me,” I said. “But I believe …” I halted, sucking in a breath. “I believe I have more to fear from my husband.”

“Ah,” she said, understanding. She nodded slow. “Well,” she said, “terrible husbands are a difficult problem indeed. But a noble woman must learn her own ways of managing the men that befall her.”

“How?” I asked.

She lifted a shoulder. “It depends on the man, and the crimes he commits against you. But there are ways. If you embrace who you are, my dear, accept the fact that you are, in a fashion, a princess of England—you might find a great many tools at your disposal to soothe his male ego.”

“I won’t soothe any bit of him,” I snapped. “And I won’t leave Nottingham for promise of pain. This is my home.” Were that even true anymore?

“And Aquitaine is mine, yet I had to leave.”

“Hurt is a common thing. Scars, blood, none of it matters in true to me. It’s a pebble beside love, and protecting the people what need it. My place is here, making sure he can’t never hurt the people that can’t protect themselves.” I didn’t have to run, did I? Rob were here. The band were here. I could run from Gisbourne and still do what I were meant—protect the people.

“Marian, you are royal. All of England is yours to protect, especially in your father’s absence.”

I drew myself up straighter. “Then I’ll start with the well-placed, prosperous county between the north and south.”

She drew in a breath and let it out slowly. “Do you love him, my dear?”

I looked at her. Were I meant to deny it?

“Robin,” she said, as if my heart didn’t know just who she meant.

“Yes,” I said. “Yes.”

She nodded. “And he very clearly loves you.”

A thrill burned through my heart. “He does.”

“Love and marriage are not easy bedfellows, my dear. It’s rare that a woman gets to enjoy both with the same man. But I truly hope the future holds that for you.”

Her words slid under my skin and circled around my heart. I held them tight there, like good wishes could shore up my courage and hope.

She patted my hand. “As for Aquitaine, it is not something that needs to be decided tonight. Or ever. You need not choose
between them; perhaps we can still have a few adventures between protecting the people, yes? I should very much like to get to know you, now that I have you back.”

I gripped her hand in return. “I want to know you too, my queen.”

“Eleanor,” she said. “You may call me Eleanor.”

“Eleanor,” I murmured slow, tasting it as it ran over my lips. My grandmother.
Eleanor
.

She loosed her hand from mine gentle. “I’m quite tired, now. I must retire, but promise you’ll meet me in the morning. My carriage will be ready first thing to take me to London with the royal progress.”

“I will,” I vowed.

She stood and collected me into her arms in a tight hug. I drew in a deep breath; she smelt of lavender and snow.

“Go,” she said. “If you happen to dance with a certain sheriff, I’m sure my minstrels will sing songs of it to me later.”

I laughed. “Your minstrels are trouble.”

She shrugged, but smiled. “Good night, Marian.”

Her lady saw me out, and I drifted down the hallway, hanging in the dark, delaying the moment when I would have to tell Rob that there would be no sunset, no marriage, no life.

When I got to the hall, if many nobles were still there, I couldn’t tell them from the common folk, laughing and singing and dancing about. John found me first, catching me up and dancing with me with a broad, drunken grin. I yelped when he hurt my hand and he slowed, dancing more careful.
“She said you were the most kind!” he crowed. “Our mean, grumpy Scarlet—kind!”

“Bess did?” I asked.

He nodded. “I’m going to marry her, Scarlet! Rob’s the sheriff; I’ll marry her and live out the rest of my days as a father and a husband and a happy, foolish, fat, lazy man. A blacksmith! I’m going to open shop.” His grin went wider and looked ready to crack his face.

I laughed at him. “As long as you fix my knives without my having to pay, I’ll be happy for you.”

He threw his head back for laughing. “You’d steal them anyway!”

“Where’s Bess?” I asked.

“Winchester sent her home in his carriage. Good man, that. Much and I figured we’d sack out in the barn—by Christ, I don’t think I’d make it halfway home!”

I laughed, but Rob caught my eye and I danced out of John’s arms. John took up with Much, who frowned and pushed him off.

Rob pulled me to him, smiling with a fair amount of ale and cheer. “We need … I must talk to you before tomorrow morning,” I told him soft.

His grin faded. “What’s wrong?”

My nose touched his. “There’s something to say. Many things.”

The arms about me went loose but didn’t let go. “Did Gisbourne do something to you? Did he touch you?”

I pet his cheek, flushing as a shiver ran through me. “No, no, nothing like that.”

He nodded, kissing my forehead. “Go. I’ll wait a moment and meet you in my chambers, all right?”

Blood pushed harder into my cheeks. My heart beat strange, like a drum played wrong and fast. Meeting him there, when he were whole and hale, under the cover of night—it felt different now. It were supposed to be the start of many nights alone in his chambers, and instead it were the last.

There were no guards now. As soon as the prince left, Rob would move into the large chamber in the center of the residences. And he’d wait for me to be there with him, as his wife.

I shut my eyes. There were no way I could stay here, married to Gisbourne with Rob so close by.

Months ago there were so many places I could think of to run to; now there weren’t any I could fathom.

I slipped quiet into his room and sat on his bed, thinking of the first I saw him. I’d been a girl, playing in the garden with Joanna, and he came out, his back straight, awful formal and awful old to my young eyes. I’d seen a man even then. Joanna blushed but I didn’t have enough shame to, and I wound the chain of flowers I were making into a crown and put it on his head. He bowed to accept it, and when he stood, there were a smile on his mouth.

He stayed for dinner, but he didn’t ever speak to me.
And then he left with his father, and not long after, for the Crusades.

The next time had been in a market in London, and his shadow-dark eyes looked like salvation for me. I knew him, I knew his station, I knew what would happen to the girl he couldn’t recognize who stole his purse. I did it badly and he caught my wrist and stopped me. When he addressed me like a lad I went with it. I hadn’t been trying to look so much like a boy before that, just not a girl, not a pretty thing like Joanna, that a man could hurt and think nothing of.

And then I’d looked on him every day since, each day my eyes a bit more open to his face, his heart, his soul. And then there were something else there, something quite like salvation but different still.

He opened the door, and I looked up. The moon were bright and the skies clear of snow, so I hadn’t lit a candle. I liked the blue of midnight light. I liked it more when he stood in it, making him glow bright, the shadows that had haunted him leaving off for once.

I stood and walked over to him, holding up my palm and shivering as his slid into it, pushing my fingers apart and sliding his own between them, binding our hands together. He leaned his head down and kissed me, the first one cool and light like silver, then again, growing warmer, his mouth opening and his tongue speaking a strange new language into my mouth. His hands fell to my hips, and my body shook. All I wanted were to stop shivering, and I pressed tighter against him.

He made a sound that vibrated into my mouth, pulling my
waist tighter and up so I bent backward, leaning into him like a willow branch. I gripped his neck, not sure if I were on my feet or not, touching the ground or not. My name, my parents, my place—I weren’t sure of a damn thing except his mouth, his kiss, his tongue touching mine and making me feel separate from my whole being. His hand came up and stroked my neck, so warm and hot on my bare skin that I gasped, and he pulled back, breathing hard.

“Good God, Scarlet,” he moaned in my ear, pressing my cheek to his, his fingers on my neck, in my hair—I could feel their touches like he were plucking strings on an instrument, resonating on my skin like music. “We have to stop.”

The shivery feeling changed fast. “I did something wrong.” I pulled away. “Oh, Rob, I’m not very good at all
this
!” I told him.

He laughed and pulled me back against him. “Not the reason we have to stop, my love.”

“Why?” I asked, my voice gone quiet.

His laugh went softer, and he kissed the corner of my mouth, my cheek, right below my ear. “I forget how innocent you are,” he said, and I flushed, frowning. He kissed the hanging bit of my ear and my good hand curled into a fist on his neck, the frown forgotten. “If I kiss you once more, Scar, we certainly won’t be talking for the rest of the night. And you can forget whatever you wanted to tell me before making you my wife, because whether or not the church agreed, you’d be
my
wife.”

My blood ran thick and hot, rushing to my skin, everywhere. “Oh,” I breathed. “But we were just kissing.”

His lips were on my cheek. “Kissing you …,” he said, but he didn’t finish the words. He kissed me again, and his lips and tongue and the wet slide of it all spun me. All I wanted were to touch him more. To touch his skin.

I pulled away with a sharp breath. “
Oh
,” I realized. A dizzy thought slipped through my mind—if I were meant to submit to Gisbourne, what were the harm in Robin’s hands on me, blotting out the ink of Gisbourne’s touch?

“Tomorrow,” he promised, his voice low and rough, slipping into my blood. His eyes glittered. “Many, many kisses tomorrow.”

No—if I were to keep touching Rob, I’d have to tell him, and if I told him, he would kill Gisbourne. He would lose everything for his love of me.

He leaned his head on mine, and my heart felt like a stone.

“What do you need to tell me?” he asked. “You worried me.”

“You don’t seem worried,” I murmured.

“Your kisses are very reassuring,” he told me.

“I tried—yesterday, I wanted to tell you—but you needed sleep. I didn’t want you not to sleep, not because of me,” I started, and the shivering turned darker as I went. What if this changed everything? How could I say these things out loud when they had just bare started feeling true in my chest?

“What is it, Scar?” he asked, rubbing my back.

I shook my good hand out. “I saw my parents. You—you won’t need their permission for anything.”

“No? It didn’t go well?”

The swamping wave of their hate hit me again, and the shaking stopped, covered with dark and shame. “They think I killed Joanna. Their real daughter. Their
only
daughter,” I said, looking up at him.

“Only?” he repeated.

I nodded, feeling water draw up in my eyes. “They just kept saying it were my fault. My fault, and I weren’t theirs.”

“Love,” he murmured, hugging me tight. “From all you’ve told me, Joanna lived for you. She didn’t die because of you.”

It seemed easier—less painful—to remember her when I were inside Rob’s arms. Her smile. The way her long, elegant hands felt touching my face, tending to the scar Gisbourne put there. Rob stroked my hair, my neck, his hands on me melting everything away like butter in the sun.

“So they took you in?” he asked. “Did they tell you who from?”

“They didn’t,” I told him. “But Eleanor did.”

He pulled me off his chest to look at my face. “Eleanor of Aquitaine?”

I nodded.

“Who?” he asked.

“Richard,” I said, trying to find strength in my voice. “I am the daughter of Richard the Lionheart.”

Robin’s hands fell from me, and he staggered back a step. Then he stepped forward and kissed me.

I pushed him off. “What are you
doing
?” I snapped. “I just told you—”

“And I decided we’re just going to have to do this the dishonorable way, because there’s no way in hell I’m asking for
his
permission to marry you,” he told me, stepping forward again with a grin. “I love the man, but he terrifies me.”

I ducked his kiss. “Rob!”

He stopped, but caught me up anyway. “What?”

“This isn’t a joke. Eleanor told me herself.”

“Well, if you want me to, I’ll ask for your hand from him. Maybe I can just ask Eleanor. She seems to like me.”

“She does like you. But Rob! Please be serious.”

“Why?” he asked, losing the grin. “What problem do you see that I’m missing?”