Bound by Honor

He gave the cheeky smile that women always seemed to love, but that Will found exceedingly annoying. “Alys believes it would be helpful if I were never identified as Robin Hood, so ’tis best that we do so. We’re to wed,” he added, looking at Marian. “And she claims the queen will allow our union.”

“I would not argue that. Alys appears to know Eleanor even better than I,” Marian said, nodding.

Will looked at her in surprise, but chose not to follow that trail at the moment. “And you are leaving now? What other news?”

“ ’ Tis all. Just that we leave and I came to ask Marian if she wishes to go with us.” Locksley looked at him, and for the first time, the rivalry between them eased. “She would be safer,” he said, meeting his eyes with a sober gaze.

Will suppressed his first inclination-nay!-and tried to think on the suggestion clearly. Which was difficult in light of the sweet-smelling woman next to him, and the fresh memories of these last hours together.

It would be safer if she left. Locksley was right. If the queen did indeed arrive shortly, mayhap she would have word from Richard. And once things were set to right, Marian could return to him, and be protected.

“Nay,” Marian said. “I’ll not leave.” She tightened her fingers around his hand. “And aside of that, I must speak with the queen myself. What harm can the prince do in two or three days that he has not already done?” She looked at Will, her face haughty and firm. “I do not want to leave you.”

His insides warred, but in the end, he was undone by the determination that he could keep her from John for the few days remaining. The prince would not play his games when his mother was present, and if he must do so in order to guarantee her safety, Will would send Marian with the queen when she left.

“So be it,” Will said. “But we must take care to keep you from the prince’s sight until then.”

“Aye.” Marian smiled. “I shall claim illness or my flux.”

“Or I shall pay five women from the village to visit the prince as a gift for recovering from his illness,” Will added, feeling foolishly happy. “That will keep him busy enough for a night.” When was the last time he’d felt this way?

“Very well, then,” Locksley said. “Farewell, sweetling.” He came closer to the bed and, before Will could react, swept down and gathered Marian up for a last kiss boldly on the mouth, with a sidewise glance at Will.

He allowed it to pass. Locksley was leaving, and Marian was staying. With him.

“Alys and I will wed, and if you cannot attend that, at the least you must visit us in Clervillieres . . . far, far from the reach of John,” Locksley explained, stepping back.

“Indeed we shall,” Marian replied, but Will remained silent.

He was still the Sheriff of Nottinghamshire, and he could not leave the county for any extended time. He would be attached to John through the king, and because of John’s own hold over Ludlow, Will could never expect to be free of the younger Angevin.

He must serve John until he died, or unless the king released him from his position as sheriff. But then what? What would he have to offer Marian?

Unlike Robin, who’d been Lord of Locksley until the prince claimed his lands, Will had naught but his honor-which had been severely tried as of late-and many years of service to Richard.

That amounted to little when it came to settling a bride-price.

A crust of discontent settled in his belly. He was not wealthy, nor did he own anything larger than a small manor house, seated in the county. She was Lady of Morlaix and far above him in station. He’d known this all along, and even from his days at Mead’s Vale he’d known she was a baron’s daughter . . . and he’d reminded himself of this when she arrived here at Ludlow. But then the battle of wills with the prince had arisen, and Will had taken the opportunity to have what he believed he’d never touch.

Bitterness soured his happiness, and he felt a wave of self-revulsion. Clearly he’d not spent enough time on his knees in the chapel.

“Will?” Marian was looking at him, and he gave himself a bit of a shake.

“You must go with him,” he said, easing away from her. Chill settled over his skin when they broke apart. “John will have recovered from his sickness, and he will be more determined than ever to entertain you. There is little I can do to stop him, save violence.”

She was shaking her head. “I’ll not leave you, Will,” she said again. “He will not dare to truly harm me. He dares not leave lasting hurts on a noblewoman; he merely wishes to play. And it is not as if I’ve not had to suffer his hands on me before. ’Tis no pleasure, but there could be worse things-such as being called out for treason.”

He realized dimly that Locksley had left the chamber, but it was not too late to send her after him. “Marian, you needn’t take that chance. I’ll not have him put his hands on you again. Do not ask it of me. I could hardly bear it before, but now . . .”