her hip-length hair curled boldly out, nearly brushing against his tunic just above the belt.
“Inept?” Robin said, feeling his mouth twitch into a smile again. “I do not think many consider me inept. . in any fashion.” He stepped forward and felt the titillating whisk of another curl against his hand, which remained at his side. Looking down at her, he could see each of her thick lashes. “The only ransom I wish to collect from you, Lady Alys, is one kiss. Given willingly.” His voice was rich and low even to his ears.
“And then you will take me back to Ludlow?” she asked. She sounded a little out of breath. Not quite as strident as before.
“And then I will take you back to Ludlow. If you still wish to go.”
She raised her face, lifting those gorgeous lips, and Robin bent to meet them. Softly, he pressed against her mouth, so softly. He barely touched her lips, brushing them with his, opening his mouth to close around her upper lip, licking its underside slowly. . gently. He felt his breath gathering again, his eyes closing, his knees weakening.
And then it was over. She stepped away.
He opened his eyes.
She was looking up at him, speechless.
And then the mood broke when she said, “There. Now you shall return me. And I hope that the sheriff catches you when you do.”
There it was. . the sheriff again. Robin frowned, then tamped back his annoyance. “I’m certain you shall tell him everything you know,” he said, matching her cool tone.
“I should warn you,” Alys said, crossing her arms again, and this time, he didn’t allow himself to be distracted, “I will keep no secrets from the sheriff. If you should approach me again-especially in the halls of the keep as you’ve foolishly done to Lady Joanna-I shall raise such a hue and cry that you will never see these trees again.”
“Then I shall make certain if I do approach you that I shall keep that lovely mouth of yours otherwise engaged.”
And with that, he dropped down the rope ladder.
“After you, Lady Alys.”
Marian did not venture into the great hall for the midday meal. Instead, she sent Ethelberga to procure some cheese and bread for her repast while she sat in her chamber. Positioning a small table directly beneath the peephole, where she could not be seen by anyone looking through the hole, she took a piece of parchment from deep within her trunk. A bottle of ink and three quills followed, and she settled at the table to write to the queen. The foolscap had been scraped clean many times, but with care, so there was only a single hole near the bottom. As she wrote, Marian avoided the few thin spots on the parchment so that the ink wouldn’t bleed.
Although Ethelberga was aware that her mistress could read and write-an unusual feat for a woman, and, indeed, for most men who weren’t priests-Marian didn’t wish for her to know that she was doing so at this time. A simple mention of her mistress writing a letter could lead to questions or curiosity from others.
It was one thing for a woman to send and receive letters that, in most cases, would need to be dictated to, or read to her by, a priest or other learned man, but Eleanor preferred that her ladies be able to do such tasks on their own. Fewer eyes and ears to notice them. She’d come to trust Marian after noting that the younger woman could hold her tongue after assisting the queen in scribing personal messages. At first they’d been simple, unimportant ones, but as her confidence in Marian grew, Eleanor had used her for more-sensitive communications.
Marian had little to report to the queen other than her safe arrival at Ludlow, so her missive took little time to finish. She’d sprinkled sand over it to dry the ink, then folded and sealed it long before Ethelberga returned.
After eating her cheese and bread, Marian left her chamber in search of one of the messengers Eleanor had told her to use when communicating. Just as she preferred her ladies to compose their own missives, she also trained them well on the trustworthiness of messengers, teaching them which ones to use. And which ones to avoid.
Down in the hall, which had emptied of most diners after the meal, Marian managed to catch the attention of one of the messengers she sought. She’d murmured for him to meet her privately in the bailey when she felt something stir in the room behind her. Without looking, she knew Will had entered the hall, and tension crept over her shoulders, along with an uncomfortable tingling in her belly.
She avoided looking at him and walked purposely out of the hall through one of the side entrances, planning to take a circuitous route to her meeting place with Twilly, the messenger.
Out in the warm sunshine, Marian moved quickly to the apple tree at the edge of the herb garden. It had long since bloomed, and now boasted a myriad of small green apples.
Twilly was already waiting, fortunately, and she quickly gave him the missive, along with her quiet, terse instruction to deliver it into the queen’s hands only. There wasn’t much of substance to report yet, but Marian wouldn’t risk the security of future missives through carelessness. Satisfied that he understood the importance of discretion, she pressed a coin into his palm and turned to start back into the keep.
Her heart leapt into her throat when she saw Will standing there.
Praise God, he wasn’t close enough to have heard anything she’d said, and he wasn’t even looking in her direction. . until now. As if her sighting him had been an invisible string that pulled at him, he turned and their eyes met.
Marian kept her face blank as she continued on her path and hoped that Twilly had gone on his way in a different direction before Will noticed that they’d been in the same vicinity. He would likely recognize one of the queen’s messengers, and was smart enough to wonder at her conversing with him.
She nodded to Will and would have walked past if he had not moved into her path.
“Marian,” he said. He looked at her, then glanced in the direction of the apple tree. . where Twilly had been standing.
“Yes?” She couldn’t look directly up at him, for he was too tall and the sun too bright.
“Have you seen Alys of Wentworth since we returned this morning?” As he spoke, he moved slightly toward her into the shadow of the small herbary.
This allowed her to step out of the sun and look up at him, her fingers brushing against the rough wooden wall. “Nay,” she answered, recognizing something like concern in his face. “I’ve not seen her since we were separated during the hunt.”
“Her mount has returned, limping, and without a shoe,” Will told her grimly. “It appears she herself has not been seen by anyone since the hunt. I’m off to search the wood.”
He turned away, but Marian grabbed at his sleeve. Will’s muscles tensed beneath her fingers, and he turned back. “What is it?”
“Did you find those other bandits?” Marian asked, alarmed to hear that Alys might have been taken by the very men who’d nearly attacked her.
“Some. They’re belowstairs in the dungeon until I can deal with them. The hands of one of them were a bloody mess.”
Marian’s eyes widened in understanding. “Oh, aye. . my arrow. I stabbed at him when he dared try and lift me off my saddle.”
“So he said. I do not think they’ll heal, and ’tis almost punishment enough for him, I trow. His fingers will be crippled forever, if they do not need to be cut off.”
Marian felt a momentary stab of conscience, but then pushed it away. The man had meant to do far worse to her.
“I’ve left three of my men to watch their camp for when the others return,” Will replied. “But if you will release me, I’ll be off to begin the search anew.” He looked down at her hand on his arm as if it were a particularly ugly spider.
Just as she released him, a shout from the bailey entrance drew her attention. Will pulled away, heading toward the sound of the turmoil. Marian followed, watching his tall figure navigate quickly through the crush of hounds, rushing men-at-arms, busy serfs, and playing children.
By the time she reached the cluster of people, she understood that Alys had returned, presumably
