Bound by Honor

John gave a loud groan, followed by the unmistakable gagging and choking sounds of the woman in front of him.

The noise drew Will back to the moment, and had the effect of a splash of cool water. Not ice-cold water, and not a complete submersion . . . but enough that the urgency waned.

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

W here 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?”