He removed his hands from Marian, forcing them to his sides, and watched the prince from the corner of his eye while avoiding looking at the bed. Either John would be sated, and fall into slumber, or he would merely have his appetite whetted and would expect more forms of entertainment.
Will had done his best to keep the prince’s goblet filled with wine during dinner, and he was hoping for the former. For the moment, he focused on the stone wall beyond the bed, keeping his eyes from the tapestry-which portrayed a scene more lascivious than the one in front of him-and counted the stones. He couldn’t block out the sounds, and now the scent of woman’s musk filtered through the air, teasing his attention back toward the bed.
And then, he heard the sound of a snore. The faintest little tease of a rumble.
Relief washing over him, Will turned to look.
John was asleep.
The first night of torture had ended.
CHAPTER 4
Where had they gone?
Robin had been slinking through the shadows of the keep for more than an hour, dodging behind tapestries and into dark alcoves-alone, unfortunately-but he’d seen not a sign of the sheriff and Marian.
’Twas possible Nottingham had escorted her to her chamber and Robin had missed seeing them pass by as they made their way to the stairs on the opposite site of the keep. He had, after all, been considering which of the other lovely women would be an appropriate distraction.
But just as he considered giving up his search, he heard the unmistakable sound of a skirt swishing through the rushes. Robin eased once more into the shadows.
He always found it surprisingly easy to move about within the keep, in the midst of the very people who sought him. Of course, the rough and mean clothing he wore was fit more for a serf than a lord turned outlaw, and he took care to keep his face averted. He’d been gone from court long enough that the people who gathered here-most of them John’s cohorts anyway-wouldn’t necessarily recognize him, particularly with his beard. Other than Nottingham, of course.
Despite his disreputable clothing, Robin wore his own good boots, carried his own dagger, and always kept a swatch of forest green ribbon on his person to leave with a lady who accommodated him with a kiss. . or more.
Ahh. Robin’s mouth twitched in a very pleased smile as he peered around the corner. The swish of silk skirts announced the approach of Lady Joanna Wardhamshire, with the huge blue eyes and small, rosebud mouth. Her nose might be a bit large, but one could forgive that. And best of all, she was a young widow.
“And a good evening to you, Lord Burle,” she was saying. “Thank you for the turn about the bailey. Shall I see you at the hunt on the morrow?”
Hmmm. A hunt? An activity that would draw the richly dressed gentry and jewel-clad women out into the wood? Robin nodded to himself in delight.
“I shall indeed hunt, my lady,” replied the man. Robin had noticed Burle before and knew him to be a serious-minded sort of person with a tedious sort of earnestness. Never would an exaggeration nor a falsehood pass his lips, nor even, Robin wagered, the slip of a tongue during a passionate kiss.
Even better. Lady Joanna must be bored to tears after walking with such a monotonous person. Hadn’t the man a better sense of romance than to propose a walk around the stinking, crowded bailey, among the pigs and hounds and stables? Why not on the high parapets, overlooking the yard and out beyond the walls of Ludlow, where the dark forest and rich fields lay?
Robin shook his head, smiling to himself. One man’s missed opportunity was another’s delight. He listened and heard a gentle, moist smack that sounded decidedly like a kiss on the back of a hand. Definitely not lip to lip.
And then the swish of skirts came closer, and the faint sound of Burle’s metal belt clinking faded into silence. Along with the swish came a gentle scent of rose and then Lady Joanna paced on past Robin’s hiding place.
He waited until she’d gone a few steps farther, then stepped out into the empty corridor. “My lady, have you dropped something?”
Joanna turned. “Oh,” she said when she saw him standing there. Her voice held a hint of wariness.
“Does this belong to you?” Robin asked, taking one step-only one, and no more until he determined how skittish she was-and offering the scrap of green ribbon.
“Why”-she stepped closer to him, her eyes roving over his belted burlap tunic and tight but holey hose-“I don’t know.” Then she looked at his feet, clad in well-tooled leather boots, and raised her gaze.
“ ’ Tis a green ribbon,” Robin said, letting his eyes glint warmly, knowingly at her. “Do you know of anyone who might miss a green ribbon?”
“Oh.” Joanna’s voice held a different note now. . one of curiosity and fascination. “A green ribbon?” Ah. At last a multi-syllabic word from her lips, albeit an echo of his own speech.
“Would you like to have it?” he asked meaningfully.
“Are you. .?” Her voice trailed off, but she looked neither frightened nor skittish. Rather, delight seemed to have sparked to life in her eyes. And taken control of her tongue.
Robin was certain he could remedy that.
He moved toward her, the ribbon dangling from his fingers, and eased her back into a little notch in the brick wall. Her breathing came faster, and her hands clasped his shoulders.
“You’re. .,” she began, but he covered her mouth with his.
Ah. Nothing like the feel of warm, slick lips, and the press of womanly curves. Robin molded himself to her as she kissed him back-her tongue was working perfectly now-and allowed his hands to curve over the swell of her hips. She tasted a bit like smoke from the great hall, and rose, and woman, and he nibbled on her ear. The soft mewling noises she made had his eyes closing and his hands moving more boldly.
Not to mention his cock lifting in salute.
He pressed closer, feeling for the juncture of her thighs through the layers of undergown and tunic. His palms held her breasts, found the thrusting nipples, and rubbed over them as she moved against him in pleasurable little circles. ’Twould be no problem to lift her skirts and slide right home, here against the damp stone wall. She was more than willing.
He’d just begun to gather up the woolen fabric between them when he stopped, pulling away to listen intently.
’Sblood, that was Marian’s voice.
Joanna opened her mouth to protest his retreat, and he covered her lips with two fingers. “We cannot be seen,” he murmured, fainter than a whisper, and brushed his fingertips over her soft mouth to seal it closed. “I vow, I’ll come to you again. Take you this,” he added, pressing the green ribbon into her hand, curling her fingers over it. He gently but firmly pulled her out of the corner. “Go, quickly, before you are seen.”
“But. .” She looked at him with full lips and shining eyes, and Robin smiled back.
“You’ll keep my secret, will you not?”
“Aye,” she breathed, clutching the ribbon that dangled from her fist.
“Now go,” he said, half-listening behind him. He heard nothing. Had he been wrong? Still, he’d nearly forgotten his resolve to find Marian in the heat of this moment of pleasure.
If it had been so delightful to pull Joanna of Wardhamshire into the shadows, it would be that much more so to have his hands full of the lovely Marian. All that fiery red hair and those snapping green eyes and lush curves.
“I’m well able to find my own chamber,” she was saying. And she sounded displeased.
There. It was Marian, and her voice was closer.
“I will escort you,” came Nottingham’s deep voice, equally flat and hard.
“Have you not escorted me enough this night?”
“I will see you to your chamber,” the sheriff said again, and they were nearly upon Robin’s hiding
