Chapter Seven
Time stopped as Isobel’s mind reeled from the first sensations of William’s kiss. His lips were warm and gentle as he brushed them across her mouth, lingering a bit at one corner, before sliding back slowly and more firmly. Just as her lips were softening for him, he lifted his mouth, then teased her with feather-light kisses across her temple and closed eyelids. His warm breath tickled her ear as he nipped the lobe, causing her to gasp in surprise. The gasp turned into a moan as William nuzzled her neck, nibbling his way to her collarbone and then tracing the outline of her jaw before finding her mouth again.
This time, the pressure was stronger. His hands cradled her head to angle it better, the kiss becoming demanding as his tongue slid along her lips, seeking entrance. She parted for him and his tongue swept in, filling her and sending strange currents straight to her core. He tasted of spiced cider and smelled of pine, mixed with a bit of bergamot. The scent was a heady combination that made her head swim as his tongue plundered her mouth. An unfamiliar pulsing began between her thighs, and her breasts suddenly felt heavy and full.
As if sensing her need, William’s hands slipped down and he encircled her waist, drawing her up against him. The contact made her nipples peak and she wiggled, pressing against his chest, enjoying the delicious sensation. William brought his hands up to stroke her back, encouraging the rubbing she was doing. The friction was delightful. The pulsation between her legs began to throb and she felt herself grow moist as her legs jellied.
William drew back, breathing heavily. “I must go while I can still leave.”
Isobel looked at him, puzzled. “If you do not want to be caught out here, come inside my chamber.”
“That is the last thing I need to do.” He smiled, but his voice was a bit shaky. “Just be ready to ride at dawn.”
He leaned forward to kiss her forehead and then he was gone, slipping into the shadows of the back stairs.
• ♥ •
Isobel was a bit breathless from hurrying as she took her seat on the dais shortly before the Boar’s Head Banquet was about to begin. Of course, part of her breathlessness was the anticipation of seeing William again. Memory of his kisses and embrace had every nerve ending tingling. She desperately wanted to repeat the episode. She’d felt she was on the brink of something, but she didn’t know exactly what it was. She wanted to find out.
She’d hidden her bow and quiver beneath the straw in an empty stall in the stables and tucked her boy’s clothing behind some bales in anticipation of leaving early the next morning. She’d considered wearing the clothing, but she couldn’t afford being caught leaving the castle proper dressed as a lad. She could change in the empty stall while William saddled his horse. Freedom was less than a day away.
But first, she would have to get through this banquet with Sir Guy seated beside her. She would also have to put in an appearance at the great bonfire that would be held outside the castle walls afterward. At least she would be able to retire before midnight, since it was considered unlucky for a bridegroom to see the bride before the ceremony on the wedding day. The revelry would last well into the wee hours so not many people should be stirring in the castle or village when she made her escape with William.
“I will say de Lacy knows how to put on a feast,” Sir Guy said, looking over the many platters of meat and pies and puddings. “But I do not see why the villagers are partaking. They always get the trenchers later.”
Isobel managed a stiff smile. “My cousin likes to have the bards tell everyone of King Wenceslaus’ journey through the harsh winter snows to give alms to the peasants on the Feast of St. Stephan and killing a boar en route. It is a message of hope to villagers, gypsies, and anyone else who is a guest this evening. Normally, Roger would hold this feast on the day after the Christ’s Mass, but he intends to leave that day for Outremer.”
“Well, it seems a waste of good food,” Guy answered. “I cannot believe he invited the gypsies, too. God only knows how many pieces of silverware will be stolen. I hope the sheriff keeps an eye out for theft tonight.”
Isobel looked down at a near table where the sheriff sat. The man had probably stolen more from the common folk than any traveler or even brigand had. “I daresay my cousin’s silverware will be safe with the Sheriff of Nottingham in attendance.”
“Still, the riff-raff should know their place. It certainly is not in the Great Hall of a baron.”
She wanted to remind her boorish companion that the tables would not be laden with food were it not for what he called “riff-raff”, but she held her tongue on that. “The villagers are needed for the second part of the banquet, my lord. Surely, you remember that later this evening roles will be reversed when the jesters pass out the cakes. Whoever finds the hazelnut of wisdom in his will be chosen to reign as king—or in my cousin’s place, baron—and lead the procession to the bonfire.”
Sir Guy’s eyes glinted. “Ah, yes. The bonfire reminiscent of the Roman Saturnalia festival. A time of devious gaming and bawdy license, if I recall my history.”
That was not the direction Isobel wanted this conversation to go. “If I remember my history correctly, my lord, Saturn was the god of agriculture and gift-giving.”
Guy shrugged. “As much as I hated studying poetry, according to Virgil, Saturn ruled the fauns and nymphs of the forest…creatures known to be given to wanton lecherousness.”
Isobel definitely did not want to discuss lechery with Sir Guy. “I trust such activities will be curtailed, given that a priest is present to give his blessing for prosperity.”
Gisborne leered at her. “A priest cannot be everywhere.”
• ♥ •
William watched the dais from his seat at a trestle near the door. He’d deliberately come late and taken a position where he could observe without drawing attention to himself. He didn’t like the idea of Isobel being anywhere near Gisborne, but as she had said, in their hasty conversation following the best kissing he’d ever done, she did not want anyone to suspect anything was amiss.
That she’d thought to offer her body to him in repayment for helping her still left him with a bitter taste. Not that he didn’t want her body—he definitely did—and hopefully, he would have the honor of introducing her to the world of pleasure between a man and a woman soon. Very soon, if his enthusiastic shaft pressing against his breeches was an indication. But it would depend on whether Isobel agreed to his plan to become his wife. He hoped—prayed—that she would say yes, but first she needed to understand how much her life would change. If she declined, he would see her safely back to Wales and well out of the reaches of Gisborne and the sheriff.
He watched with only half-hearted interest as the seed cakes were passed out and a cheer rose from table across the hall when a villager held the hazelnut high for all to see. William thought it was the fletcher who’d brought the lads to the archery contest. In any case, the crowds were rising now, following the man as he led the way out the entrance and through the castle gates to where he would light the bonfire from the still-burning Yule log.
William saw Isobel rise from the dais as well, Sir Guy intent on escorting her out. William tried to wedge his way closer, but the milling of the crowd made crossing the room nearly impossible. All he could do was follow the flow and he soon lost sight of her, but he would find her again once they were outside.
And, God-willing, by dawn they would be gone.
• ♥ •
“Where are you going?” Isobel asked as Sir Guy abruptly changed once they were in the bailey. “The fire is being lit outside the gates.”
“I thought we’d make our own fire burn.”
She frowned. “What do you mean by that?”
He smirked and continued to walk. “You will find out.”
Isobel attempted to wrench her arm away, but his grip only tightened. “I need to put in an appearance at the lighting of the bonfire,” she said.
“And I said we would light our own fire,” Gisborne answered as he half-dragged her around the corner of the castle toward the stables. “I see no reason to wait until tomorrow to take your maidenhead when this is a night made for debauchery.”
“No…” Isobel tried to dig her heels into the ground, but she was wearing satin slippers instead of leather boots, so all her feet did was slip along. “I…want to wait until I am properly wed.”
He laughed. “It will not make any difference, believe me.”
Isobel pulled back with all her strength. “Please, my lord.”
“Ah, yes. Beg,” he said, “I like my women to beg. It excites me.”
“Let me go!” Isobel screamed, but the sound was drowned out by the noise of the revelry going on.
“Do that again and I will slap you.” He switched his hand hold so he could grab her around the waist and half-carried her, feet and hands dangling as he made his way inside the stable.
Once inside, he set her down, although he kept a tight grip on her arm. “You can scream now. No one will hear.” His free hand yanked at her hair, pulling her head back while he tried to force his mouth on hers.
Instinctively, Isobel bit down on his bottom lip, hard. He yelped and then cursed as she managed to break away. She stumbled, entangling herself in her skirts, then lifted them and scrambled toward the door.
Wiping the blood away, Guy narrowed his eyes as he moved toward her. “You will pay for that, bitch.”
“I do not think so.”
Isobel heard William’s voice at the same time she saw a flurry of movement from the shadows, followed by a loud smack and a heavy thud as Sir Guy slumped to the ground.
• ♥ •
“Is he dead?” Isobel asked, holding on to the barn door frame.
“No,” William answered and clenched his fist again. “Do you want him to be?”
Her eyes widened, nearly black in her chalky face, but she shook her head. “I will not have murder on my hands. Especially not at Yule.”
William was tempted to finish the man off, in spite of the holiday and the fact that he’d never murdered anyone, either. From the little bit of rough treatment William had seen when he slipped inside the door, Gisborne deserved to die. But killing the knight would only complicate matters. Still… In two strides, William reached Isobel and drew her close to him. “Are you hurt?”
She wrapped her arms around his waist and laid her cheek against his chest. He could feel her tremble, shaky as a newborn foal.
“I am fine except for a probable bruise on my arm.” She nestled closer. “Thank God you got here when you did.”
William rained kisses on the top of her head. “You had already broken away.”
“But I tripped. I… Watch out!”
He heard the movement the same instant he heard her warning. William swung Isobel to one side, crouching low to spin around as Gisborne lurched for him. William slammed a fist into Gisborne’s gut and the man doubled over. William’s other fist made contact with Gisborne’s jaw and sent him flying to land on his back and out cold.
William stood over him, rubbing his knuckles, ready to drive another punch. “Will you get me a loose rein from the tack room?” he asked Isobel. “I am going to truss Gisborne up so he causes no more trouble.”
Isobel nodded and ran, returning in less than a minute with two strips of leather. “I thought you’d want to tie his legs, too.”
“Good idea,” William said, taking the reins and making quick work of the binding before dragging him into a darkened corner. Then William looked at Isobel. “I do not want to wait until Gisborne is found. If you truly want to get away, we need to ride tonight. Now.” When she nodded, he hurried to saddle the gelding. “I do not want to take any chances of your getting caught, so you will have to leave whatever you had packed.”
“What I planned to take, I have here,” Isobel said and disappeared into an empty stall. William frowned, but didn’t question her since time was of the essence. He cinched the saddle and was about to ask her to hurry when she emerged, dressed as a lad. He looked at the longbow she held and the quiver of arrows with the distinctive crest and raised a brow. “You were the archer?”
“I was. My father taught me.”
“Thank God,” William said and vaulted onto the horse, then held out his hand to pull her up in front of him. “Where we are going, that will be an asset, but we will talk later.”
“Keep your head down as we go through the gate,” William said a minute later. “I do not want anyone recognizing you and sounding an alarm.”
Isobel nodded, but he needn’t have worried. There were no guards at the gate. Apparently, they had joined the rivalry at the bonfire which was now blazing away. The villagers had linked arms in two circles dancing counter to each other and singing. William didn’t think anyone would even notice a rider on a dark horse, but he stayed well to the other side of the road, away from the light of the flames.
For the first half-mile, he kept his ears attuned for the sound of horses’ hooves pounding behind him. He doubted Gisborne would wake and free himself anytime soon, but there was always the chance that some man would decide to tumble a village lass in the barn and find him. William turned off the road as soon as he could and entered the forest. “We are safe now. Finally safe, my lady.”
• ♥ •
“Are we going to hide here?” Isobel asked. “Would it not be better to get to Barnsdale as quickly as we can?”
“I was not planning to go to Barnsdale.”
Isobel looked up at him, trying to hide her disappointment. “I understand if you do not want to take me to your home. Sir Guy and the sheriff will be sure to go there. Where do you plan to take me, then?”
“I would like to take you home.”
She frowned. “But you just said you were not going to Barnsdale.”
“True, but Barnsdale is not my home.”
“I do not understand. What do you plan to do with me?”
He took a deep breath. “I would like to make you my wife.”
Isobel stared at him and then threw her arms around his neck. “Yes!”
William stopped the horse and gently disengaged her hands. “Before you say yes, there are some things you should know. Remember when I said earlier we would talk?” She nodded and he continued. “First, I have a preference for living off the land and not in a castle.”
Isobel gave him a confused look. “But I thought you were taking care of it while your uncle is away.”
“The castle is in the capable hands of the steward. I take care of my uncle’s business,” William replied.
“Yes, I know. You said you were in Nottingham on business for him.”
William studied her for a moment. “That business can be dangerous.”
She tilted her head. “How so?”
“My uncle suspects the Sheriff of Nottingham—and Gisborne—are plotting to put Prince John on the throne before King Richard can return. And of course, be awarded lands and titles by the prince. Uncle Robert is gathering evidence. I am part of a group that is helping him do that.” William took another deep breath. “We are spies.”
Isobel stared, not quite sure she heard correctly. William finally spoke again.
“I will understand if you do not want to marry me since there will be a price on my head if I am found out. Some would call us outlaws, as well, since we live in the royal forest and poach the king’s deer. Say the word and I will see you safely to Wales.”
Isobel raised her hand to caress his cheek. “I do not want to go to Wales or anywhere else. Spy. Outlaw. Knight. It makes no difference. I want to be with you.”
William leaned down to cover her mouth with his. She tangled her hands in his hair again and pressed her breasts against his chest, loving the friction against her nipples, then slipped her tongue into his mouth. He deepened the kiss for a moment, and then drew back.
“You need to know we probably have an audience.”
She stilled. “You think someone came after us?”
“Doubtful. But we are being watched.”
“Watched? By whom?”
William smiled. “My uncle, probably.”
Isobel wrinkled her brow. “You are not making sense. Your uncle is in Outremer.”
William shook his head. “That is the story he has put out. It is easier for him to spy on the prince if he thinks the Earl of Huntingdon is not here.”
“The earl is here? In Sherwood Forest?” Isobel looked around. “Where?”
“Give me a moment.” William said and then whistled twice, paused, and whistled again.
Suddenly, the forest bustled as men stepped from behind trees and stood up from clumps of bracken. Isobel looked around, feeling her eyes grow huge.
At least a score of men stood there. Apart from a short, rotund man in a friar’s robe, the rest of them wore forest green tunics and brown leggings to blend in with the trees. It was no wonder she hadn’t seen them, although one would have been hard to miss just because he towered head and shoulders above the rest.
“Little John,” William nodded toward the big man and then gestured to the others. “Tuck. Much, Alan a’Dale…” He continued to name several others before another man stepped out from behind them.
The man was tall and dressed like the others, but there was an air of authority about him as he unbraced his bow. Perhaps it was the beginning of silver streaks in his hair or the set of his shoulders, or more likely, the intense gaze of his sharp, blue eyes as he studied her. His eyes reminded her of William.
“I should have known you would bring back a prize,” he said.
The man called Little John laughed. “Trust Will Scarlett to bring back a woman!”
William ignored him. “Lady de Lacy, may I present my Uncle Robert, the Earl of Huntingdon?” He paused. “Otherwise known as Robin Hood.”
If William had not been holding her, Isobel probably would have fallen from the saddle in surprise. Not only was her “Sir William” the Will Scarlett those ladies had giggled about, but his uncle was the famous—or infamous—head of the very band of outlaws that Sir Guy and the sheriff were looking for. The irony was too much, and she felt a hysterical bubble in her throat, but managed to contain it. “You have no idea of what a pleasure it is to meet you, my lord.”
Robin quirked a brow at her and then looked at Will. “I like the lady already.”
“Have ye married her yet?” Friar Tuck asked, rubbing his rosary beads.
“Not yet, but you can have the honors,” Will answered, and looked at Isobel. “That is, if you have not changed your mind.”
She smiled at him. “I have not changed my mind and I never will.” She reached up to kiss Will again. This time, the men applauded—and she didn’t care. She was about to begin a new life with Will Scarlett in the safety of Sherwood Forest. These men, including Robin Hood himself, were going to be her new family. She couldn’t ask for anything more.
Yule was the season for gifts, after all.