Chapter Thirteen
Mariel didn’t realize she was holding her breath. She exhaled slowly, her heartbeat so loud in her ears it sounded as if it roared. She pulled her bow off her shoulder, her palms sweaty. Had she known that she would awaken to a raid on Nottingham, she might have had more time to prepare herself. True, she had perfected the art of being elusive, could shoot targets, and dodge animals. But never had she blatantly attacked anyone.
You are not attacking anyone now, either, she reminded herself. But Robert might. He swore no one would be hurt intentionally. But he also reminded her that, like any scheme as such, things could go wrong.
She took in a steadying lungful of air, then released it, and withdrew two arrows, lodging them between her knuckles. One for the initial shot, one ready to nock should the first fail. She could lob them in quick succession. In her haste to leave, she hadn’t worn her gauntlets, and now she was thankful. They would have creaked miserably.
“Too bad about the woman,” Wendenal said, knocking on the cottage door to hurry his other men along. They filed out. “She was a fetching little thing, even if she was carrying. I’m certain we could have entertained ourselves well with her.”
“Who knows where they ran off to? No one was in the shed this morn,” his guardsman said.
“Just as well,” Nottingham said. He secured his belts around his waist, an unmistakable purse jingling at his hip. “The beggars are probably behind on their taxes. Serves them right, scattering as they did. They probably ran off to Robert of Huntington, and like the tenderhearted fool that he is, he took them in.”
Another guardsman snorted, but didn’t speak as he, too, released his piss from the night before. Mariel looked away. Finally, the men congregated before the cottage and mounted their horses. As they readied to depart, they took formation, with two guardsmen side by side in front, Nottingham in the middle, and two side by side in the rear.
“Let’s away to Nottingham, men. Harold Crawford is visiting,” Wendenal said, and the party nudged their beasts into a trot.
Mariel’s heart jumped just knowing her sire was nearby.
An arrow whistled and lodged beside her head. She snapped out of her horror, dragged back her bowstring, and released her arrow. It cut clean through the knot Robert had indicated, just as three other arrows did the same to the other knots. A wide net fell down upon the traveling party.
“Damnation!” exclaimed Nottingham.
His men twisted in the netting. Confusion upset the horses. They whinnied and stomped, tossing their heads. Mariel watched, fascinated. The guardsmen tried to push away the rope and reach for their daggers at their hips, further ensnaring themselves. Mariel clung to the tree trunk.
Robert jumped down from a tree limb in front of them, both feet thudding solidly to the earth. She would know his slender waist and tall height anywhere, having wrapped her arms around it more than once already. He marched to Nottingham, dragged the man off his horse, reached his pouch through the netting, and sliced a dagger through his belts.
“A good day for taking from others by force, is it not?” Robert quipped, sliding free the purse strings and giving the velvet pouch a jingle. He tossed it up and down then slid it into his coat, gesturing to the cottage. “I see you beat me to the sentiment.”
“You!” Nottingham erupted, still tangled in the netting on the ground. “You’re committing a crime by stealing from me!”
“Was it not a crime, you stealing from the fine fellow who inhabits this cottage?”
“I can demand quarters when I require it.” Nottingham fumed.
“Hmm,” Robert said. “Does the church authorize you to demand rights to another man’s wife?”
Nottingham scoffed, attempting to stagger to his feet. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, you coward. So cowardly that you must hide behind that hood of green to bedevil me and steal my coin!”
“I shall donate it to a charity of your choice,” Robert said, shoving the sheriff to the ground beneath his boot, “since you seem incapable of remembering the lesson I try to teach you: no harming innocents.”
A horse, stomping, tried to bolt, sending the other horses into a frenzy. Will appeared from the trees, as did Alan, who both took hold of a bridle to steady the beasts and keep them from noosing the soldiers in their attempts to flee. One by one, John dragged a floundering soldier down, lashing their wrists behind their backs with the ropes intended for their “boar hunt.”
Once each man was dealt with, Robert laughed his cheerful laugh. “Ah, no charity to suggest? Might it be that you know not even one name?”
“One of these days, I’ll learn who you are, and you will rue that day.” Nottingham growled as John tossed Robert a section of rope to bind the sheriff.
“I sincerely doubt it.” Robert laughed. “Disarm them!” he called to the others. With the horses settled, Will and Alan made rounds, pulling free daggers and sword belts, tossing them into the underbrush. “And now, my good men, it’s been a pleasure.” Robert bowed. “And please, do pass along our regards to the Sheriff of Ayr. I hear he’s in residence at Nottingham. Good day, and my thanks for your generosity!”
Robert gave the purse one more jingle in front of Wendenal’s face, earning a scowl. Nottingham spit on his boots, though Robert ignored it. David also emerged from the trees and took the flat of a sword blade to the now-disentangled horses, sending them scattering into the trees.
“Generous pouches of meat at their flanks indeed. A good quality in a pig I should say,” John said, garnering a round of chuckles from Robert’s men. Even Mariel couldn’t resist a smile as she watched. “I should say the beggars at the almshouse will eat heartily soon enough with such an abundance of fat!”
She remained frozen, watching the men squirming face-down on the ground. So focused was she on not moving, she jumped when she felt a hand upon her shoulder.
Robert was behind her, a finger across his lips. He grabbed her arm and pulled her toward the hidden supplies on the other side of the rising terrain. Arrow and bow still in hand, she jogged after him, trying to keep up and yet, pad quietly. They descended over the rise back to the tall tree with the vine. The other men were nowhere to be seen. Robert ripped off his hood, dragging hers over her head, too, and jammed them back under the camouflaged mesh of twigs.
He grabbed her hand again and whipped her around to continue jogging through the trees. He didn’t stop and didn’t let go of her. They ran onward. Mariel’s lungs burned. She was sweating. Finally, they reached the horses. And no sooner were they untethering their reins, did John, Will, and Alan emerge through the trees from other directions.
“Where’s David?” Mariel whispered, swinging into the saddle and turning her mount to follow Goliath through the dense trunks.
As soon as they all hit the main path, Robert kicked his mount. “Remaining behind to ensure we’re not followed. And so now,” he said, an exhilarated smile capturing his face, “what’s this I hear about a boar hunt?”
“What?” Mariel exclaimed. He flashed her a wink.
“You did well, Elmer, back there,” Robert complimented, giving her elbow a squeeze.
“Yes, she did,” John also complimented, riding up alongside her. “Fairly decent, for a woman.”
She rounded on him, her frown piercing him.
“I only jest,” John said, chuckling.
“Well then, I thank thee for the compliment, Little John,” she replied.
John groaned and tipped his eyes heavenward, his voice darkening. “Bollocks to you, Robert, for ever saying such.”
“What?” She shrugged, her lips curling up as laughter rolled from the others’ throats. “I only jest.”
He scowled at her, then at Robert.
“She fits in well, Robert.” Will grinned, and Robert also laughed.
“You two,” Robert directed Alan and Will. “Return to Huntington and tell the kitchens to prepare for a massive pig to be delivered this afternoon for supper, then find us in the thickets south of Huntington proper with a cart.”
“Now you jest.” Mariel rolled her eyes. “We’ve spent half the day in the saddle as it is and you already used your rope. And, as you well know, they’re rare. You could spend a fortnight in the saddle and not find one.”
“I assure you, my dear Elmer,” Robert said. “I am not a liar. If I told my people I was going on a hunt, then a-hunting I will go.”
“You can’t just promise something like that. You don’t even know if you’ll find such a boar.”
He grinned. “I keep a wild herd in my woods, imported from France. I assure you, I know where to find a mean one.”
…
She had no idea how Robert did it. How he spoke with such confidence, even in the face of uncertainty or impending raids, and then made the results he was looking for happen. But they rode that afternoon for Huntington, a fattened boar with tusks as deadly as daggers in the cart Will had delivered, and Mariel smiled.
Robert rode high in the saddle, a boyish smile on his lips the entire time. Not once did he mention their attack on Nottingham, even though she sensed his satisfaction. He was proud of his accomplishments and his proven prowess. He’d made the final kill to the boar’s neck. The day’s successes provided not only for his people, but also for the downtrodden, and she felt her heart widen to him further. That, and she sensed the man had shown off just for her, if she were to judge the look of pride he flashed her when the hunt was done. Such a smile was endearing.
He felt her scrutiny and cast his hazel gaze toward her, his brow furrowing slightly in question. Mariel looked forward again, rocking in the saddle with her mount’s lumbering gait. She remembered Charlotte’s words, He isn’t how you describe. No doubt, being unable to do a thing about his mother’s death was rooted in Robert’s benevolence now. The vulnerable were safe and provided for in his care, a way to make amends for a time when he was once powerless.
And now, his coat removed and his tunic sleeves rolled up to the elbows, blood staining the billowing fabric from the minor injuries the pig had managed to inflict, he looked at home. His hair, loose from its tie, hung in tangled waves over his ears and cheeks, his jaw unshaved, and his sword belt cinched about his waist with his bow slung over his shoulder, accentuated his physique. The hunt had been terrifying. Mariel had hunted before, yes, but she had never been on a hunt like this one. Such animals were practically nonexistent in Scotland. She had only heard tales. Not to mention, boar hunting was a male endeavor requiring several people to safely manage. It meant something that Robert had wanted her to participate.
“You know, Robert, you could never have taken that beast down without Elmer’s arrows,” John said. “She is skilled in the saddle.”
Robert glanced sidelong at John’s goading. Mariel smiled. She had quickly gathered that this sort of hunt was a test of a man’s mettle, and both men had been determined, since the poor pig’s death, to claim responsibility for the victory.
“Indeed,” Robert replied. “Without her precision, you wouldn’t have gotten as close as you did, my friend. In fact, I remember seeing you run away at the beast’s first charge.”
“Boast all you like, Robert, but it wasn’t even that big. I’ve taken down larger ones. It should embarrass you that you had to fight so hard.”
John glanced her way, sending her a wink. Robert noticed the wink and he glanced at her, seeming to gauge her reaction. She looked forward, toward the grand castle coming into view. As if I wish to see them posturing over me.
Robert recovered and laughed. “You’ve nary a scratch, Little John. I’d hardly say you got close enough to get your hands dirty. I practically killed it myself.”
John shook his head. “It’s not quite rutting season yet. That beast was as docile as a spring maiden. Hardly a test of skill—”
“For goodness sake.” Mariel rolled her eyes, smiling. “Both of you would have made a sloppy approach and kill if it weren’t for me taking shots and keeping it distracted. Honestly, one, if not both of you, would have been gored. ’Twas an effort on all our behalves. We can all claim the victory.”
Both men grinned at her, chuckling.
“Yes, indeed, Elmer, it was our win together,” Robert said. “John just so happened to throw his knife into the fray and Will gets a cut of flank for showing up with the cart. A vital apparatus for which he must be rewarded.”
Will feigned a courtly bow as he steered the reins from the cart’s bench. “Glad I could be of assistance.”
Mariel rolled her eyes. “You men.”
“For all your male expertise, it’s clear you’re not a man, Elmer,” John scoffed, inducing laughter from Robert and Will. “You cannot have several winners, woman. Only one.”
“That’s the only way you can tell she’s not a man?” Will said. “You must be blind, then.”
She shook her head as the men exchanged more good-natured insults. But she had arrow-shot the beast while maneuvering her horse in a wide berth around it with only her knees. She had shied away from the actual killing. Successful boar hunts were bragging rights, obviously. Which was fine, because although Robert teased mercilessly, he had insisted in all seriousness that she stay in the saddle and remain vigilant in the event the beast overpowered them and they needed to flee.
Robert and John had used their blades to take the beast down, rather than swords or arrows. Their pursuit had been fascinating to watch, almost like a dance. They’d known each other’s moves, taking turns distracting the animal so the other could lob an attack, until Robert had administered the final cut. Clearly, the two men had a friendship that ran deep, and Mariel hated that she seemed to be in the middle of it.
Dinner was a boisterous affair. It always seemed to be at Huntington, for there was always abundance and all were welcome to partake in the great hall. And she was seated beside Robert. On the dais. In her trousers and old tunic and stockings that she could feel were thread-worn. Among Anna and Charlotte in their finery, beads, and jewels. Not once did Robert seem to care, as he boasted further with John and Will, and looked out over his people satisfying themselves on venison and today’s boar.
He seemed to suddenly perk up. She followed his gaze across the hall. The peasant man from the woods and his pregnant wife, whom they had ridden that early morn to vindicate, had entered uncertainly. Robert stood, and the hall hushed a degree.
“Come forth, man!” Robert hailed, motioning them forward and wiping his face with his napery.
The man did so, his wife gripping his arm. Both looked unsure. Robert dropped the napkin onto his trencher and finished chewing his bite, withdrawing a small purse from his pocket.
“My lord,” the man said, bowing beneath them. “You wish to speak to me?”
“I do,” Robert replied. “Rise up and accept this pouch for your grievance brought to me yestereve. You’ll find your cottage vacant again, though I bid you remain the night and return on the morrow when your wife is rested. A guardsman will be ready with a cart in the morn, to spare her poor legs the burden.”
The man gaped at the purse being held out to him, and his wife covered her mouth. “Husband…we’ve never held so much coin.”
The man shook his head. “My lord, I cannot accept such a—”
“You’ll accept it, or you’ll offend me.”
Such mention of offense obliged the man to take it, and he bowed humbly, backing away.
“Please, find room at a board and eat. All are welcome,” Robert added, then sat and dismissed them, casting a glance at Mariel as he tucked back into the board.
“As I said,” he whispered, leaning to her ear. “Not thieves. Good Samaritans.”
A few moments later, Mariel excused herself to her chamber, opting to walk on the rooftops to get away from the torches, the fanfare, the ladies’ scrutiny, and the realization she didn’t want to accept but that was becoming impossible to ignore—that Robert wasn’t the philandering, spoiled earl who amassed wealth at the expense of those beneath him. Could she truly trust him? Could she truly remain here and rest easy that he would protect her, as he had protected the woodsman and his wife who were now sitting at a table, staring at the abundance before them? Could she let down her guard?
…
Robert stood at Charlotte’s door, resting an arm over his head on the door frame. Mariel had practically flown from the great hall earlier that night, and he sensed the reason why. An idea had begun to swirl in his thoughts. He tapped his knuckles on the wood. After a moment, the door pulled open.
“Robert?” Charlotte questioned, staring up at him, her needlepoint in hand. “To what do I owe this private visit?”
“May I enter?” he asked, righting his vest with a quick tug of the bottom hem.
“Certainly.”
She stepped back and gave a sweeping gesture to welcome him in.
Ah, Charlotte. He stepped into the familiar bedchamber. He had visited here many a time to romp between the linens with the beauty before him. Yet to look at her now did nothing to whet his lust. Her supple body, the delicate combs laid out upon her dressing table, and her ever-industrious fingers pulling a needle, no longer sparked his interest. More than five long months had passed since he had liaised with Charlotte, or with anyone else. Five months of only his hand keeping him company. Had Mariel any idea?
Probably not.
Despite sensing Mariel warming to him, despite feeling her admiration on him that eve when he had bestowed Nottingham’s coin on the peasant man and his pregnant wife, despite their perfectly executed raid that morning and the boar his people had feasted upon, the lass probably still thought him a rake who tangled his naked legs with any willing female, including Charlotte, if the way she had sat quietly through the whole of dinner meant anything.
“I have a request to make, though it might seem presumptuous considering our previous status,” he said.
He saw a flicker of hope cross Charlotte’s brow and wanted to slap himself. Hope for a tryst between them was not what he wanted her presuming.
“’Tis not that type of request, Charlotte. I apologize if I led you astray just now.”
Disappointment slumped her brow but was quickly replaced by resolve. “You are a dear friend of mine, Robbie. I would see to your happiness, even if that happiness is not with me.”
He nodded and smiled at her. “My thanks. In fact, I was hoping you could befriend the Scottish girl.”
“Whatever for?” Charlotte gasped. “She has no desire to share friendship with a woman who has known you intimately. That much was clear the other night. She isn’t like other women, and I sense she has no interest in playing the wily games of women, either.”
“That much is certain,” Robert agreed.
“But I could tell, as she stormed out of the castle bent on leaving, that she longed for you, in spite of being adamant to leave,” Charlotte said. Robert crinkled his brow. “Oh yes. I’m a woman, and I can spot pining on another woman’s brow, for I, too, have pined. Seeing you and me together at supper hurt her, for it made her think the worst of you, and I must say, I could tell she felt inadequate. She was about to retreat above stairs when I happened upon her and escorted her in with me.
“And whilst most noblewomen would be willing to play at intrigue for a man such as you, who is one of the most eligible in England,” Charlotte said, “her reaction was the opposite. I think it’s safe to say she’s fond of you, but she’s willing to refuse you. It must be her way of protecting herself. Chances are she’s had little reason to trust anyone and therefore is better off passing on love rather than risking heartache.”
He nodded, flopping into one of the upholstered chairs by the fire. Perhaps Mariel questioned her lack of trust in him now, which was why she’d excused herself. He could only hope she was warming to him enough, for the camaraderie his men and he had shared with her that day had pleased him immensely, even if he could still sense John’s interest in her.
Charlotte came to sit in the chair she had occupied moments ago, bringing the kerchief she was embroidering with her. “She’s a capable woman, rough around the edges, and ’tis clear she’s burdened with an armored heart.” Placing a stitch, Charlotte pulled the needle through the underside of the kerchief, drawing the excess thread through before placing a precise stitch back into the fabric and repeating the ritual. “But if I ever saw one, that woman is terrified and vulnerable, despite her wild ways. Running away from her problems is the only solution she knows. She’ll never remain your lover if she senses you play with her heart.”
“She can’t remain my lover if I’ve never gotten her to bed in the first place,” Robert said. “You’re right.”
Charlotte smiled wistfully. “I never knew you to lack prowess when you wished a woman to submit.”
“I lack it not.” He defended himself, though there was no arrogance in his remark.
“Then why has she refused you?”
“She hasn’t,” he replied. “More than once we could have, well, you know.” She nodded and looked into the flame, pausing in her embroidery. “But I couldn’t make myself follow through.”
Charlotte’s eyes shot to his with shock. “You not follow through? Pray tell, then, why you would seek a woman who doesn’t entice your interest?”
Robert huffed again and shifted to slouch on his other arm. “Believe me, she has my interest. My lack of follow through has nothing to do with not wanting to follow through. I just…I couldn’t. Her father is a tyrant who wishes to—” He caught himself. If he wasn’t careful, he would give away Mariel’s identity, and as far as he knew, Charlotte wasn’t privy to the connection between Mariel and the Sheriff of Ayr, if she even knew who the Sheriff of Ayr was. “I can’t toy with her affections, Charlotte. She deserves a commitment, one that will protect her. And dammit,” he swore, but stopped himself when he noticed Charlotte startle at the coarse language. He might curse with his men, but in the company of a lady, he had always had impeccable manners. “But I’m going to make an offer. Therefore, intercourse seems to me a bit cheap when I’m considering a full claim.”
Charlotte watched him, her eyebrows lifted, her hands still at rest in her lap while her fingers held the needle. Finally, she found her voice.
“Indeed, you’re actually considering marriage? I thought you wanted none of it.”
He folded his fingers together and rested them to his chin while his elbows remained propped on the chair arms. “Marriage would protect her. I’m willing to make such a commitment, if it would see to her safety.”
“I see…” Charlotte said. “You wish to protect her. But do you love her?”
Robert looked into the flame but offered no answer. He could feel Charlotte’s gaze upon him. He rested his chin against his folded hands and rubbed his stubble ever so slightly. He didn’t know how to answer. Did he? How could he, when he had only just met her? But the entire time they had raided Nottingham, he had worried for her, so much so he’d questioned whether her participation was too much of a distraction. And when they’d killed the boar, he had endured the animal’s tusks twice because he was too diverted by her presence, ensuring she remained safely back, for that animal would have shredded her had she fallen into the fray. And yet… But do you love her? refused to stop echoing in his mind.
“Pardon my observation, for I don’t wish to seem rude,” she said. “But have you considered what she would look like as the Lady of Huntington? Elmer, or whatever you continue to call her? She hardly knows what a cake of soap is, judging from her appearance, and I dare say she lacks comportment as a lady, no matter her title. Tonight at supper, she nearly smelled as poorly as you men did and her braid was a tangled mess. I’m surprised you find such a wildling, no matter her physical beauty, to be alluring.”
Robert nodded, though his eyes leveled a glare at her. He then withdrew something from the inside pocket of his coat. Showing it to her, he let it cascade downward to the floor, holding the end of it in his fingers. It was the soiled old silk ribbon.
“She once loved beautiful things,” he said, looking at the ribbon. “But life has lost its beauty for her and is only about survival. I’m certain she lost this, though she knows not that I found it. It was tied to her wrist at my tourney. It must have fallen out of her packs. A keepsake from a bygone time that holds some meaning for her, since she has carried it with her. I wonder what the ribbon represents. Was it a time when she smiled freely? Was it a memento given to her by a special friend or suitor? Did it belong to her mother or her sister?” He shook away the nostalgia for a place in her history he had never been. “Did you know she’s a lady of high breeding, the daughter of a ranking noble, and yet, her stockings are tattered? Tattered.” Of all the things to affect him, seeing for himself the shabby state of her existence had struck him. “I want her to feel worthy of her title again. I want her to see herself as the beauty I see her to be. That’s where you come in.”
He folded up the ribbon, catching himself when he realized he rubbed it gently and that Charlotte was watching him. He hid it back inside his coat.
“You’ve never held something of mine so tenderly,” she said. “Mayhap you do love her, after all.”
Robert shrugged off her remark. He didn’t like his emotions being so obvious. “You were right. She’s fragile,” he continued. “The last thing I want is for her to lose her edge. ’Tis refreshing to meet a woman who holds nothing back. I’m impressed with her skill and strength and honest tongue even if it is forked at times.”
“Skill?” Charlotte inquired. She pasted a pleasant look upon her face.
But there was no mistaking the hurt he saw in her eyes. It was true, Robert thought. Charlotte’s like every other woman. Concerned with her beauty, her femininity, her marriage suits, her wardrobe, and her manners. It was how women were reared—to catch a man’s eye.
“Yes. She’s a master archer. Which is unusual for a woman.”
“Indeed,” Charlotte concurred. “A master archer?”
He nodded.
“The trousers… It all makes sense. How does she compare to you?”
The corner of Robert’s mouth turned up. “She tied me in the tourney.” Charlotte’s mouth dropped in a most unladylike gape. “’Tis true,” he said. “I couldn’t best her, try as I might, nor could she best me. We’re equals.”
Something seemed to shift in Charlotte’s unsure demeanor. She sat quietly as the fire continued to crackle warmly beside them. Just hearing himself say such seemed profound. He was matched in skill with a woman, and certainly matched in stubborn temperament. He watched Charlotte mull over his words. At one point, sitting fireside with Charlotte would have been a welcome respite from his daily goings-on. Right now, oddly, it seemed like a betrayal to Mariel. Her trust was so fragile, so carefully placed.
“What can I do to help?” Charlotte asked, drawing him back from his thoughts.
“Befriend her. Find her a suitable gown so she can sit in the luxury she deserves. I want her to feel fair and noble again. And in doing so, I hope to gentle her heart and make her agreeable to my proposal. I haven’t much time to offer for her, if I am to protect her.”
Charlotte furrowed her brow, but he didn’t elaborate. He’d already said too much. “I’ve no other women here to do such a job. Alice finds her to be vulgar, and her disdain is evident in her frown. She’ll help the girl upon my command but doesn’t want to. And Anna is such a frivolous chit I’d like to include her in nothing. The other maids would help, but they have duties that can’t be shirked.”
Charlotte nodded. “I’m curious, my lord, as to who she really is.”
Robert stood and sighed, straightening the waist of his trousers and his sword belt upon his hip. “I cannot tell. I’ve promised her that I would keep her secrets. But time is of the essence, and I wish her to answer my proposal with ‘yes.’”
“Then I will do my best, Robbie.” Charlotte smiled and stood as well, walking him to her door. She placed a hand on his arm. Robert stopped and looked down at it. “If I cannot have your heart, I would at least have your friendship.”