***
What none of them had told her—and Robin discovered shortly after the stream itself came into view—was that Will had went for a wash.
Robin stopped dead in her tracks at the sight of his bare back, the width of his shoulders tapering down to his waist, and the firm roundedness of his arse. The lay of muscle beneath his skin was physical proof of his strength, and despite all her years of archery, he would always be stronger of body than she.
He could carry the weight of them both, if need be. She found the idea oddly comforting.
She shuffled her feet, calling out a low, “Will.”
He looked over his shoulder. “Robin.”
Her eyes strayed down to the backs of his thighs, and her face heated. It was, however, nothing compared to the heat he looked at her with when she met his steady stare again.
“See something you like?” he murmured, barely loud enough for her to hear.
“Quite a bit, actually.” She licked dry lips, pleased when he followed the movement. “Thank you for waiting for me.”
“Of course.” His eyes widened as her words sank in. “Are you sure?”
Robin, her fingers working on the fastenings of her coat, paused. “Sure as the sun rises each day in the east.” She resumed her work. Moments later, she shed her outermost layer of clothing. “Sure as the fletchings on my arrows.” She was aware of his eyes on her, and the way his gaze continued to heat with each piece of cloth she left behind her on the way to the water. “Sure as the Earth beneath us.”
Naked as the day she was born, she stepped into the stream and trailed her fingers along his shoulders, up over the juncture of neck and torso, and then along his collarbone when she was in front of him. She reached up and stroked her thumbs across his cheekbones to coax his eyes open again.
“This might well be one of the only things in this world I’m absolutely sure of,” she whispered.
With trembling fingers, Will worked the tie from her braid and sent her tawny hair cascading over her shoulders and down her back. He pushed it tenderly behind her ears and away from her face, and she smiled contentedly under his touch.
Her skin tingled, and she bit her lip to keep from giggling as he pressed the smallest, most lightest of kisses to her cheeks, nose, and forehead. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders as the backs of fingers ghosted along the top of her thigh.
“My Lady of Sherwood,” he murmured reverently against her skin.
Robin turned her face to the sun’s warmth as it shone between the branches above, focusing on nothing but the feel of his love.
***
If she found it odd there was no one around when they reached the clearings, she didn’t mention it. Nor did she mention her inability to let go of his hand. Will seemed to be feeling something similar, as the song he’d hummed all the way back from the stream grew louder, and he spun her gently, as though they were dancing. She giggled, the ends of her unbound hair lifting slightly as she twirled.
Robin’s giggle turned to full-blown laughter as he literally swept her off her feet. She briefly saw Ginny, Graham, and Tuck peeking out from the doorway of Tuck’s cottage before Will goosed her in the side. She yelped and smacked him on the arm.
She allowed him to carry her all the way to the fire circle, where he deposited her gently on the ground near Maggie, Much, and Lia. She tucked her hair behind her ears, took a deep breath, and looked at the other three as Will wandered back down the path.
“Did you…?” Much trailed off, her face bright red.
The corners of Robin’s mouth twitched. “Did I what?”
Lia looked as though she were ready to explode. Maggie wasn’t far behind her.
She decided to take pity on them, and said, as primly as she could manage, “A lady never kisses and tells.”
The three of them roared with laughter. Robin felt light enough that, should she try it, she might be able to fly, held aloft by the feeling in her chest alone.
Robin rested back against the log behind her, starting slightly when a leg appeared next to her. The boot was Will’s, and she relaxed when he settled on the log, a foot on either side of her. He held a comb over her shoulder for her to see, and then asked, “May I?”
“Of course.”
Jemma and Elena joined them as the evening shadows lengthened. Tuck, Ginny, and Graham—bearing dinner—arrived shortly after. Someone lit the fire, and the last remaining tension left Robin’s shoulders. Will had given up using the comb a while ago, and he was instead running his fingers through her hair.
“Go the other way with that one, that’s it,” Jemma murmured.
She felt a slight pressure on her scalp, and she tipped her head accordingly. While Will had always seen the girls braid each other’s hair, she knew this was the first time he’d done it himself. Warmth pooled in her belly at the knowledge she was his first for such a thing.
“We are blessed,” Tuck said quietly. “Every one of us.”
Yes. Yes, we are. All of us. She looped an arm over Will’s thigh, rested her chin on her wrist, and smiled softly.
That night, when the fire had burned low and they made their way to their beds, Robin gently took Will by the hand and led him to her tiny cottage. She fell asleep with his arm over her waist and his warm breath on the back of her neck.
Robin sat next to the plain white cross that adorned Kitty’s grave, the sunshine warm on her back as she fletched arrows. It was one month to the day since the younger girl had died, and Robin felt the ache in her soul that much more keenly. She glanced up, the light breeze not enough to disturb the petals of the latest flower crown Ginny had carefully draped over the grave marker.
She paused in her work to put one hand flat on the Earth, and had to remind herself to breathe, as though she and the rest of the world were holding their collective breath.
“Something doesn’t feel right today, Kitty,” she murmured. She looked immediately for the others. From the smell, Much baked something in Tuck’s cottage. Ginny was most likely her assistant, as Graham snuck tastes as often as he could. If she listened hard enough, she could faintly hear the clanking of Lia’s pots as she banged them around in one of the other clearings.
Will was with Tuck, learning how to make honey mead and keep bees, in that order.
Jemma, Maggie, and Elena were out and about today, patrolling along the roads in the forest and potentially lying in wait for a purse to lift.
Robin’s guts twisted so sharply for a moment she thought she was going to mess herself. She breathed through it, and then tipped her head back. Clouds rolled in front of the sun, and the forest was still.
“Robin!”
Out of all of them, Much was their rock. Strong and steady as the Earth they stood on, the girl had been calm and collected even in the wake of tragedy. The manor had burned, and she’d gathered the survivors, hiding them away until Robin and Jemma had arrived. She was unflappable, and so even-tempered that Robin sometimes wondered if she had a heartbeat.
Robin’s own heartbeat tripled in that moment as Much ran through the last few trees screaming Robin’s name in pure panic.
She left her unfinished fletching on the ground, grabbing her bow and quiver. Much leaned heavily against the wall of Tuck’s cottage, her shouting having caught the attention of everyone else. Will looked ridiculous but focused in Tuck’s beekeeping outfit.
“They—they’ve—we were ambushed,” Much coughed out, her face red and ruddy. Her eyes were shiny, and Robin watched more tears fall down her cheeks. “They’ve—it’s Gisborne and—he’s got Jemma!”
Time stopped momentarily. Robin’s hearing faded out, and when it came back in, Much was crying and babbling, “Sorry, I’m sorry,” over and over.
“Stop. Stop, Much.” She dropped her bow and quiver to the ground, and then framed Much’s face with both hands. “Stop. Breathe.” Her thumbs wiped away fresh tears. “It will be fine. I’ll get her home, safe and sound. I promise.”
�
��Can you take us there?” Will asked. “They’re still on the road, right?”
“He said he wasn’t going anywhere until he saw and spoke to Robin,” Much said. “Maggie and Alan are hiding nearby. If—if something else happened, one of them was supposed to—to come.”
Gisborne would keep his word if it meant getting her once and for all, Robin was sure of it. Calmly, she picked up her bow and quiver, and gestured for Much to lead the way. She held her hand out to Ginny, who took it without hesitation.
“If one of us tells you to run, you run, okay?” Robin told her quietly. “Run back to the clearings and hide. If one of us isn’t back by the next morning, then you go to Agnes. She’ll look after you.”
“Why wouldn’t you be there?”
She stopped and crouched so she was eye to eye with Ginny. She held both the little girl’s hands between her own. “I might not have a choice. But I am going to keep you safe and make sure you will always have somewhere to call home, be it with us or with Agnes.”
“Sherwood’s our home,” Ginny insisted.
This little girl is braver than the lot of us, she thought with a smile. “Aye. And it always will be.”
Ginny nodded sharply. Robin stood, awed by such a stubborn streak, and they carried on hand in hand once more.
Maggie paced nervously while Alan kept an eye on everything happening on the road.
“Where is she?” Robin asked.
“Down there. Gisborne has her. She’s a little bruised, but I don’t think she’s hurt. And he hasn’t—he hasn’t touched her.”
“I’ll cut his hands off if he does,” Robin muttered as she went to stand by Alan. “My promise to God.”
Alan looked at her, eyebrows raised. Robin glanced at her hands to make sure Alan knew where to watch, and then started to sign. What does he want?
You.
She swallowed thickly, pushing back the fear crawling up her throat. Only me?
He’d like all of us, but he’ll settle for you. Says you’ve got some unfinished business?
Robin refused to meet Alan’s eyes. We do. If he wants to call it that. Jemma’s not going to like what I’m about to do.
Alan snorted. None of us are going to like what you’re going to try to do.
“You promised us no one would get left behind,” Maggie said as Robin and Alan turned to face the others again. “You came back for me. In the tavern.”
“You came back for me at the gallows,” Will said quietly. “And you didn’t know me half as long as you’ve known the rest of this lot.”
“‘But Ruth said: ‘Do not urge me to leave you or to return from following you. For where you go, I will go, and where you lodge, I will lodge.’ Rather appropriate, aye?” Tuck grinned.
“Aye, Friar,” Robin sighed, the corners of her mouth twitching upward. “Tinker?”
“They’re clever girls,” Lia said, Graham balanced on one hip. “With brains in their heads.”
“None of you are to move until I lay down both my bow and quiver.” She looked each of them in the eye until they acquiesced. “Good.”
She took another deep breath before making her way down the short hill to the road below. She held both hands out, palms toward Gisborne and his men, and came to a halt barely out of shooting range.
“At last,” he said. “Robin Hood has come to turn herself in.”
Robin refused to look in Jemma’s direction. She didn’t need to see Jemma to know the other girl was calling her an idiot behind clenched teeth.
“I’ll turn myself in to the law if you give me your word none of us will be harmed in doing so,” she called.
Gisborne threw his head back and laughed. The cruel sound set Robin’s teeth on edge.
“What makes you think I should offer you something like that?”
“You’re not offering anything,” She stroked her thumb over the bowstring stretched across her chest. “I’m telling you my condition, and that condition is none of us will be harmed if we turn ourselves in.”
He glanced at Jemma. “If I don’t agree? You can’t get to her before I can kill her.”
“Harm a hair on her head and you’re as good as dead,” she spat. “I might not be the one to do it, but the outcome will be the same.”
“You think you’re in a position to make threats?” Gisborne snorted. “I should slit her throat to make you watch her bleed.”
“Do that and I’ll continue to make a mockery of you and the Sheriff of Nottingham until the day I die.” She refused to break eye contact with him. “How much money do you think I can take from you? How much do you think your reputation will suffer because of it? One small band of outlaws—most of them women—and you can’t control them. Can’t stop them. Can’t keep anyone who passes through Nottingham safe from them. You’ll be the laughing stock of all of England by the time I’m done with you. Even the king will know your name.
“Now. We’ll turn ourselves in provided we’re not harmed in any way, and we are given a fair trial.” She clenched her fists so tightly her knuckles went white. “Since we all know you’ve no honor to speak of, and your word doesn’t mean shite, swear on the king’s life you’ll abide by these conditions or so help me, I’ll walk back into these woods and make sure you rue the day you were born.”
She knew the moment he realized that was the only way he would have her in custody.
“I do so agree to those conditions.”
Robin had bought them a little more time, then. Gisborne wouldn’t hang her immediately, and if he went back on what he’d agreed to, well… she wouldn’t beg for death no matter what he did to her. That much she promised herself.
Carefully, and with exaggerated slowness, she took off her bow and quiver. When she set them on the ground, there was the sound of branches snapping and rustling, and she knew the others had joined her. She let the man nearest her bind her wrists together in front of her, smiling reassuringly at Jemma with a slight shrug.
Gisborne’s backhand across her face caught her completely off guard.
Her lip split, and she tasted dirt when she landed heavily on the ground.
“Bitches like you have a place,” he snarled, crouched over her. “And I intend to see you put in yours once and for all.”
“That will be enough, Sir Guy of Gisborne.”
Robin couldn’t see who had spoken—all she could see were various dirty boots—but it was the same tone of voice her father had used to gather order in his great hall. She froze, blood dripping from her mouth, and waited.
“As part of the king’s royal guard, this matter is no longer yours to oversee. The King would like to see the outlaw Robin Hood, and see her he shall.”
Someone hauled her to her feet, and she wiped at her face with her bound hands. She had the sinking feeling she’d done nothing more than smear blood and spit across her cheeks, but she couldn’t bring herself to overly care. Jemma’s fingers fluttered nervously about her elbow, and Robin looked upon the member of the king’s royal guard who had most certainly saved her life.
He was a small man, with mousy hair and immaculate clothing. A sword hung at his hip. Behind him stood a small company of footmen bearing the king’s coat of arms. He spared Gisborne a scathing glare before turning his attention primarily to Robin.
“The Lady of Sherwood, I presume?”
Robin squared her shoulders. “Yes. I am the outlaw Robin Hood.”
“And these are your compatriots?” He gestured to the others behind her. “They are outlaws as well?”
“Yes,” Jemma said before Robin could open her mouth. “Yes, we are.”
“We chose to be,” Maggie said, “of our own free will.”
Robin stood silent and watched him look at all of them, his eyes briefly lingering on Will.
“The king shall see you all, then. Come.”
Robin gently pushed Jemma ahead of her. She looked over her shoulder at the others and jerked her chin. She’d see them go before her. She needed to see them
safe from Gisborne and his men.
The royal guardsman waited for her, and then took her by the elbow. Robin looked defiantly at a seething Gisborne.
“The only thing she’s good for is the noose,” he snarled, though he wisely kept his distance. “That’s all that bitch has been useful for.”
“Be assured the king shall hear more of your actions in this matter, Sir Guy of Gisborne. If I were you, I would await your own summons, for it shall surely come.” The royal guardsman guided her forward, and she turned her back to Gisborne for the last time.
Sometimes, in the very dark of night when the ghosts in her head wouldn’t let her sleep, she thought about what it would be like when it all came to an end. News of her arrest—if she could call it that—had to have made its way around Nottingham and the surrounding area by that point, and she hoped things didn’t get worse for those dependent on their help. She thought of Lobb and Agnes, of the Nottingham archers who had so willingly come to her aid on the parade grounds, and later with Will’s rescue. There was also the baker Much had worked for since their arrival, and she thought, briefly, of all the lives they’d touched.
She’d only met a handful of the families, but they had always seemed so very grateful for what she and the others had done for them, and for Nottingham.
Despite not wanting to admit it, Robin had also thought that when everything came to an end, she’d have already been hanged. Jemma would most certainly call her morbid if she knew, but Robin had had the notion that, whenever they were finally caught, she’d be on the gallows next to Jemma.
Instead, she and Jemma rode double on a hackney, bound for London and an audience with the king himself. She’d cleaned the blood from her face, and her hands were unbound—though her weapon, along with everyone else’s, was carried by an armed footman. So far, none of the royal soldiers had threatened them with violence. It was almost as though they were treating her in accordance with her birth status, and not as an outlaw.
It was a startling turnabout to having lived so many months in hiding with the fear of being found.
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