by M. C. Frank
He reached out a long, gloved hand which dwarfed hers and the next minute he was twirling her among the never-ceasing dancers.
“You shouldn’t have come,” she whispered to him as soon as she had got her breath back. He leaned down to listen to her and his mere presence, his very scent was so intoxicating to her that she trembled in his arms.
He caught his breath against her hair.
“I could not stay away another minute,” he replied, his voice unsteady. “Are you surprised to see me dancing so well?” he asked, half-mockingly, trying to lighten the mood, for already time was passing by and they were that much closer to the moment they should part.
She thought of how many times he’d spun her around the jolly fire in the forest, his men dancing gaily about, the night echoing with sparks and laughter. Those nights seemed now to have belonged in another life, before Robin had grown distant and cold, before he’d driven her away. Those carefree dances, impromptu steps devised on the spot to match Alan’s music, hands held tight to keep away the cold, had no resemblance to this vigorous swaying to the beat of an entire orchestra of well-paid musicians, and the mere memory of them hurt her.
She sniffed against his shoulder, and his arms tightened about her in understanding; he was fighting a sudden emotion, too.
“I knew,” she said. “It stands to reason, when you are so good at everything else…”
“Not everything,” he murmured staring into her eyes mournfully. “I have been exceptionally inadequate in loving you. And keeping you from harm.”
“And keeping yourself from harm as well, it would seem,” she rejoined. “What are you doing here? We just found a man from Nottingham only hours ago...”
“I heard all about it,” he said, pressing a quick kiss on her hair. “Julian knows I’m here.” He shut his eyes for a minute, as if pained. “I must find a place to take you where no one will threaten you, I cannot bear this.”
“You are here now,” she said. “I am safe enough.”
“Will you say my name once?” he asked.
“You know your own name,” she replied, hiding her face in the folds of his cloak. “Besides,” she murmured, “you stand out already in this disguise without me proclaiming to the world you are the prince of outlaws.”
“I am not the only one here disguised or wearing a mask,” he said defiantly, looking around to the guests. “But my girl knew me at once, didn’t you, my Rosa?”
“I did, Robin,” she said and felt him shudder against her. “You took such a risk coming here, I am afraid for you, you… you should go,” she went on before she lost her courage.
“Tired of my company already?” he asked, and his voice sounded deceptively amused. It didn’t fool her for a moment.
She felt his uncertainty palpable as he looked down to her, his eyes searching hers with something akin to desperation in their brilliant depths, and she sought to reassure him.
“I was tired indeed, before you appeared out of thin air” she replied, lifting her luminous eyes to his. “But when you are near me I find I cannot feel anything else except-”
“Except loved,” he finished her phrase for her, leaning down to speak into her ear. “Loved, so much loved,” he repeated in a quiet voice. “Adored.”
She trembled against him and he crushed her to him, lifting her with an arm around her waist so that their eyes were at the same level.
“You are afraid?” he asked, leaning back to look into her eyes.
“I am afraid of the moment you will have to leave me.”
He held her to him.
“Not yet,” he said. “Not yet, my love. I cannot…” his voice trailed into silence, his voice tortured. “I find I cannot tear myself away from you. I am entirely under your spell.”
So they danced some more.
It was a completely different feeling now whenever the movement of the dance demanded that he lift her in the air, and she leaned into him, looking down into his upturned eyes filled with passion, as he held her above his head and then she was anchored safely in his strong arms, letting him hold her with complete abandon.
“You looked sad when I first saw you sitting there,” he observed. “And a bit thinner, if I am not mistaken. Are you terribly unhappy?”
“I miss you,” she answered softly.
“Come back to me,” he whispered fiercely, joining his gloved hand with hers, in time with the steps of the dance. “Marry me. Come live with me. Share my poverty, share my danger. I am going mad with wanting you there beside me.”
She took a step back and tried to look into his eyes, but he had suddenly bent his head down and she couldn’t see his face.
“Robin…” she started.
“Forgive me,” he said. “Forgive me for speaking so out of turn. Forgive me, my sweet girl. This is neither the place nor the time, I know. It is your very presence that weakens me.”
Then, suddenly, he bent and pressed his lips to her ear.
“May I kiss you?” he asked.
She lifted her face to his instead of an answer.
His kiss was full of need and desperation, hers salty with tears. They melted into each other, he cupping her head with his large hands, she tugging onto his dark cloak and arching her back to lean into him.
“I am yours,” he sighed against her lips.
Then, exhaling a shuddering breath like a gust of the chilly wind that was blowing outside the window, he was gone.
Rosa was too restless after his visit to go to bed.
Slowly the dancing crowds began to thin and as the sky began to lighten some of the guests drifted outside, in the gardens, braving the cold night.
Julian came and sat next to her, as she was sitting perfectly still, her eyes large and sorrowful. He took her hand.
“You are chilled,” he said.
She didn’t turn to look at him.
“It was a mistake to allow him to see you, wasn’t it?” he asked, anxiously, when she wasn’t responding.
“Of course not,” she replied. “Besides, do you really think you could have stopped him, if he’d made up his mind already?”
“I have only known one person to be able to bend this man to their will, little sister,” Julian said. “And that person is you. Come, I’ll take you to your room.”
Once in her room, however, sleep eluded her.
Dawn was beginning to color the sky a soft damask hue, and Rosa stepped out on the terrace, suffocating inside.
All of the guests, or most of them, were inside, sleeping or finishing off the wine, and she felt no need to wake her brother, as she knew that the place was crawling with Sir Gavin’s guards and the light was becoming stronger by the moment.
Right before the man grabbed her, she was thinking that at least she was safer now than she had been the last time she was attacked, and it had been then right under Julian’s nose. Then everything went black as someone struck her from behind, right there, in the middle of the guards and Sir Gavin’s last guests.
This time the man -he was only one- didn’t speak.
He didn’t blindfold her, although as soon as she regained consciousness he choked her until she almost passed out again, for fear that she would scream. As he dragged her behind the bushes, she saw two of Sir Gavin’s guards lying in a pool of their own blood, arrows sticking out of their throats.
With a move quick like a flash of light, Rosa removed a small sharp blade from the front of her bodice, which she had taken to wear on her person at all times. She knew it was useless, but her hands were already clutching it out of habit. At least this way she might gain a few precious minutes until someone could discover her. She brought the blade quickly and expertly to his throat.
He didn’t even falter in his hurried run as he was dragging her across the parterres. Out of the bushes to her right an arrow shot immediately, lodging in her shoulder and paralyzing her hand, which dropped the knife immediately. Without missing a step the man removed the arrow from her shoulder brutall
y, and the pain must have caused her to lose consciousness for a moment, for the next thing she knew he was pushing her against a tree, her wound screaming in protest, blood splattering her dress.
She kicked at the man as hard as she could, weak as she was from the pain and the blood loss, and she dreaded the moment when he would bind her hands and feet, like they had done the last time.
He didn’t though.
He tied her to the hard, bare trunk of the tree, completely unconcerned that someone would see them, probably because he had gotten rid of any guard that might pass that way.
Then he turned to face her.
That’s when she saw him, and knew what he was, and what he was going to do to her before he killed her. In spite of her panicked state of mind, in that split second before he tore her clothes, she suddenly could see her father’s plan with perfect clarity: he’d assure that Robin Hood had to avenge not only her death, but also her honor.
She screamed an unearthly, white scream with no noise that tore at her lungs and ripped her heart in a thousand pieces. But it was impossible for anyone to hear.
This isn’t really happening to me, she tried to think. It’s a nightmare. But then the man smiled wickedly, baring his teeth with malice, as he thrust his face closer and forced his mouth on hers, choking her. Robin. Oh no. Robin, my own sweet Robin, was her last thought.
…
It was Robin that found her, as though by her thoughts alone she’d summoned him to her aid. It wasn’t long after the man had tied her to the tree. It was, however, long enough.
And this is how it happened.
Robin had been battling with himself all the way from Sir Gavin’s castle. He shouldn’t have asked her to marry him, not in that fashion.
No, he should have stuck with it, he should have insisted on an answer. His horse’s mighty hooves slapped the hard ground in a rapid, soothing rhythm and yet he could find no solace in it.
It was unfair to her, that much he was sure of. Well, no more unfair than living in a stranger’s home, with no friends of her own and facing who knows what perils.
Still there would be far more dangers in the forest for her, especially if she was to live with him there for good. Only yesterday he had nearly gotten killed by a poisoned arrow that he’d managed to duck just in time.
But he would watch her like an eagle.
Even if that left him with time for nothing else. Not that she would allow that, of course.
He fought with himself; he turned the matter over and over in his thoughts, at war with his emotions, and still he couldn’t make up his mind. Ultimately, he found he had to go back to her.
Damn the night that had all but passed and would no longer cover him with darkness. Damn the danger and the imaginary men who were lurking in every shadow. He was a man in love and was made crazy with it, and what’s more he knew it and didn’t care. He was doing this and that was that.
He happened upon them by pure chance, although all his instincts were on fire as soon as he rode through the gates and he saw no guards on the grounds.
First he saw the figure of a man in the distance, leaning next to a sturdy tree, struggling with someone who was most probably lying on the ground before him. He couldn’t discern that that someone was Rosa, but still he urged his horse into a gallop. Then the man lifted startled eyes in his direction and wiped his lips.
Immediately the wretch got up and ran away into the darkness just as Robin stopped his horse abruptly, his heart in his mouth, and flung himself from the saddle even before his horse had stopped moving, for in a split second he’d caught a glimpse of Rosa’s white little face.
Later, he had no recollection of how he got from his horse to where she was lying, tied to the tree. No recollection of how he fell on both knees and tried to cover her nakedness, touching her swollen, bleeding lips helplessly. He then must have examined her to find where all the blood on her dress had come from, all in the haze of the terror that gripped him.
He remembered commanding himself to act, to neither think nor imagine what might have happened to her. And then, because his brain wouldn’t obey him, he buried his head in his hands and weeped in wet, uncontrollable sobs that choked him.
He cried as he untied her. He cried as he rubbed the sore spots on her wrists that were scraped raw from her struggles to free herself. He cried as he took her in his arms and checked to see that she was breathing. He cried as he took off his cloak and wrapped her in it, for her own dress was torn and didn’t cover her.
And he cried as he carried her up the stairs to the castle and screamed at Julian and Sir Gavin to wake up.
Julian just stood there, gawking in shock, seeing nothing.
Sir Gavin ordered a clean, warm bed to be prepared immediately in his own rooms, and closed the door behind Robin and the small, prone figure on the bed, as he went himself to call the healer.
Robin had woken her up and wrapped her in warm covers by the time Julian recovered the use of his brain. Julian dressed her wound as well as he could, although the arrow had not gone as deep as they had feared at first and the bleeding had already stopped.
Rosa blinked unseeing eyes and whispered something undecipherable before blacking out again.
Robin leaned over her.
“What did you say, my Rosa?” he croaked.
Julian turned to him.
“Robin, you’re still here? It’s dawn, you should be gone,” he said, trying to collect his wits. Then he saw Rosa stirring and reached out his hand to take hers.
“Don’t -touch her!” Robin shouted. “How did this happen?” he continued, turning in anger to look at him. “I trusted you,” he pointed to Julian, his eyes shining with fury and accusation, “I told you I trusted you with her life…”
“You can kill me tomorrow, chief,” Julian said, trying to keep his voice as calm as possible, “if I have not obliged you myself, that is, but right now you have to go.”
Robin ignored him and knelt beside the bed, taking her fingers in his hands.
“I was in time, I think,” he whispered. “Although I suppose she still will remember everything up to…”
Rosa turned and woke again.
“Oh,” Robin breathed, in horror, as soon as he saw the fresh blood on her shoulder. He pressed his palm to the wound.
“Ju,” Rosa said, speaking through bruised lips. “I want Julian.” Her breath came labored.
“I’m not leaving you with her,” Robin spat at Julian, without taking his eyes off Rosa. “You have done enough already. Go.”
“I will stay with her, chief,” Julian replied, as he stroked her long tresses on the pillow. Then he stepped in front of Robin and tore his sister’s dress further down in order to clean the wound. “I am here,” he said softly to Rosa. “Chief, you should go,” he repeated, without turning to look at him. His tone was respectful, but firm. Robin’s head snapped up in surprise.
“What did you say?” he asked, incredulous.
Not one of his men had ever dared defy his direct orders, which, although given rarely and in urgent circumstances, were always to be obeyed.
“I’m not leaving her, chief,” Julian repeated calmly. “Besides, it is you who are in danger and more so every second that you linger.”
Robin watched him for a moment as he worked deftly, tenderly, with his blacksmith’s hands. Rosa leaned against his arm, her eyes drifting closed.
“Ju, he didn’t ruin me, I swear,” she whispered in another fit of lucidity. “I dreamt of Robin, I think…” she was interrupted by a fierce cough, for her throat was fragile with bruises both outward and internal after the man had tried to strangle her into submission. “The knife you gave me, I tried…” she started saying, but she couldn’t catch her breath.
Robin leapt to his feet and lifted her gently, cradling her neck carefully, trying to ease her pain. He felt his heart breaking within him with her every word, and he knew that he was crying again, but he didn’t care.
“Hush, l
ittle one,” Julian told her in a strangled voice and motioned to Robin to step away from her bed.
Robin stared at him, shocked, a monster of jealousy rising within him. And then a revelation hit him, and he almost stumbled from the shock.
“Good God,” he said tenderly, looking from Rosa to Julian and then back to her, as though he couldn’t believe it. “You are Julian’s red-headed lost little sister.”
She opened her eyes at this moment and saw him with clarity. One of her sudden smiles lit up her face and he felt like a king. His own eyes stung with tears, his arms aching to lift her to his chest.
“How could I have been so stupid?” he murmured. “My sweet girl, you have the same brow as that scoundrel of mine. Your eyes have the same shape. And I had thought he was seeking to serve me well all this time he remained here. And I had thought I was his chief. It seems I was mistaken, and this small hand now holds his fate in its little hollow.” He stopped and cleared his throat, his voice dropping to a husky whisper. He lifted a finger and ran it along her forehead. “How fortunate he is to have found you. To have in you his family.”
He gently let go of her hand.
“How infinitely more fortunate than any other man on green England,” he said.
Julian looked at him and smiled a tight, cryptic smile that was more of a grimace. “I’ve bound the wound,” he said simply. “Now go, the Sheriff’s man could wake up any minute.”
“How…” Robin began but he had to stop and clear his throat. He got up and turned at the door to address Julian in a low voice. “How came you to care so for her?” he asked finally, and his voice sounded strange to his own ears.
“There is nothing to envy here, chief.” Julian answered him as though he had read his thoughts. “Her heart is more yours now than it will ever be mine.”
Robin would have scoffed if he had had the energy for it. Now he sank, cross-legged to the floor, his back sliding down the door frame.
