The Secret of Gisborne: A BBW Shifter Paranormal Romance (House of Gisborne Book 1)

by Alanis Knight

  “Blackstock’s men,” he answered.

  “Not again,” Marian moaned, pulling the injured man’s hand away to examine his wound.

  The man groaned as Marian poked and prodded him, assessing the damage.

  “They came to collect the taxes, but I told ‘em I didn’t have anything,” the man said. “So they did this.”

  “We’ve got to stop them, Marian,” Robin whispered. “This is the third time this week! How many more villagers does this have to happen to before we make a stand?”

  “Robin, I told you, I can’t be involved in this,” Marian hissed, glancing at her father. “They’ll kill him!”

  “They never have to know, Marian,” Robin said. “All we need is...”

  “I know what you need!” she snapped. “And you can forget it! This job is all I have. And Father... he’s lost everything. You know the sacrifices he made.”

  “I know, and I would never ask this of you if there were any other way,” Robin pointed out.

  “I said no, Robin. And I meant it.”

  “Fine. I understand,” Robin said, sighing heavily.

  “It looks like his ribs are bruised, but not broken,” Marian said. “He’ll have to rest for a few days, but he’ll be all right.”

  “Rest? How? I have to feed my family? I have to...” the man began to panic, his eyes darting to and fro as he searched desperately for answers to painful questions.

  “Hey, hey,” Robin said calmly. “Don’t worry. We’ll take care of your family until you’re well. You have my word.”

  The man nodded reluctantly, and Robin helped him to his feet. He groaned loudly as Robin hoisted him up, wrapping his arm around Robin’s shoulders.

  “Thank you, ma’am,” the man said to Marian, nodding politely. Then he muttered, “That bastard, Gisborne. He’s gonna pay for his. I ain’t in the habit of accepting charity, and now…”

  Robin shot her a frustrated look over the man’s shoulder as he headed for the door, and Marian’s forehead wrinkled with pity. This kind of thing was a regular occurrence, but she felt powerless to help.

  Robin disappeared into the darkness with his charge in tow, and Marian quickly closed the door behind him. She leaned her forehead against the cold wooden door and closed her eyes. No, there was nothing she could do. Any attempt to help Robin with his plan could mean death for her father... her dear, sweet father who had risked everything, and lost everything, to try to save her mother and her from the wrath of Lord Blackstock.

  She turned her head slowly toward him. He was still sleeping peacefully in his chair, the worn blankets tucked tightly around him. Her heart swelled with pride for the man who’d been destroyed for his defiance of Lord Blackstock.

  She pulled a wooden bowl from the mantle and filled it with stew, which was bubbling away on the hearth. In it, she placed a wooden spoon, and she carried it over and placed it on the table beside her father.

  “Father,” she said gently, rousing him with a careful shake of his shoulder. “Father, wake up, it’s time to eat.”

  His eyelashes fluttered, and his eyelids slowly opened. He squinted at her.

  “Elizabeth?” he muttered, his eyes widening with recognition and a slight smile curling on his lips.

  Marian’s eyes glistened and her vision hazed. Her lower lip quivered as she remembered her dear mother, Elizabeth.

  “No, Father, it’s Marian,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “It’s time to eat.”

  His smile faded, and he glanced toward the table. His trembling hands strained to reach toward the bowl, and Marian took the bowl and placed it solidly in them. The spoon clattered against the side of the bowl as his hand fumbled with it.

  “Here, let me,” she said, taking the spoon from him.

  She lifted the steaming broth to her own lips and blew to cool it, and then she pushed it through his lips. He made a face.

  “No salt?” he asked in his raspy voice.

  “No, Father, we cannot afford it. The price of bay salt has risen so much lately that only the rich can afford such luxury.”

  The creases on his face deepened, and Marian knew exactly what he was thinking but would not say. Under Lord Blackstock’s rule, the poor were suffering. Higher taxes, a ban on hunting game, and strict rationing on all but the most basic ingredients were making life for the poorest citizens miserable. There was a rising fear that a great famine could be on its way. But her father was too terrified to speak ill of Lord Blackstock after all that had happened.

  And King Richard could do nothing, for he was away in the Holy Land leading his troops into battle in the Crusades. As such, his own people were suffering greatly, as the Lords had usurped much of his power while he was away. His own brother, Prince John, cared little for the people. All he cared about was filling is coffers with more gold. As long as the gold kept flowing from the parishes, he looked the other way as the Lords and men like the Sheriff robbed the citizens blind through illegal taxes.

  She continued to spoon the flavorless stew into his mouth, and he choked it down without another word. When he’d eaten all his vegetables and the two eggs she carefully peeled for him, he sipped the broth until the bowl was empty. Then, his eyelids growing ever heavier, he drifted back to sleep.

  Marian looked into the bubbling pot, and her stomach lurched. She felt blessed to have this food when so many were surviving on so much less, but she could not bear to eat. Robin’s words were still echoing in her mind.

  I would never ask this of you if there were any other way...

  “I’m sorry, Robin,” she whispered as his words gnawed at her soul. “I cannot help you.”

  Her own eyelids drooping more by the minute, she quickly cleaned up the remains of their dinner and fell onto the narrow bed in the corner of the room. Exhausted, she fell asleep within seconds.

  CHAPTER TWO

  The crowing of the rooster heralded daybreak, jerking Marian from her sleep in a panic, as it did every morning. She was ever fearful of being late and losing her job, and there was little hope of finding another one in such trying times. Not many people would even hire women, and those who would could ill afford to do so under current conditions.

  She rushed about to make a bland porridge for her father’s breakfast, feed the chickens, and attend to the morning chores. She made sure there was fresh water in the bucket for her father and logs by the fireplace for him to feed the fire. Then she dressed quickly and headed out into the dewy morning.

  “Marian,” a voice hissed from behind the house.

  She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, and then she glanced down the lane in both directions. She quickly disappeared behind the cottage.

  “Robin, what do you want?” she whispered, her eyes flitting about, watchful and aware.

  “I thought you should know, we’re moving on with the plan this afternoon.”

  “What?” she hissed. “Are you insane? Tomorrow’s the banquet! They’ll have every guard on high alert all week!”

  “And what better time to strike than a time when they’d least expect it?”

  “Robin, please,” he begged him. “You must reconsider this! You’ll all be in grave danger if you do this now.”

  “We’re all in grave danger now, Marian,” he pointed out. “Besides, our plan is solid.”

  “Well, don’t expect my help,” Marian said flatly. “I told you, I can’t help you. I can’t risk anything happening to Father.”

  “Fair enough. I just wanted to warn you so you know what to expect. We’re moving in at two o’clock.”

  “Fine, just leave me out of it,” Marian snapped, whirling around. Then she stopped and whispered more gently over her shoulder, “And be careful.”

  Marian located Mirabelle in the kitchen as she supervised the making of breakfast. Her thick body flew about the room as she shouted orders, tasting each and every item and barking instructions for seasoning. Lord Blackstock demanded perfection in everything, including his food, though no on
e ever recalling having seen him eat any of it.

  “Excuse me, Miss,” she said politely.

  “Thank Heavens you’re here!” Mirabelle nearly shouted. “We have a lot to do today with the banquet coming tomorrow. We have to get the whole guest wing cleaned for the visitors, and the banquet hall must be perfect! I need you to start preparing chambers for the guests at once. Every one will be full by dusk!”

  “Yes, Miss,” Marian said.

  “Move!” Mirabelle shouted, and Marian jumped, rushing to gather her bucket and scrub brush.

  She dashed through the castle toward the guest wing. Rounding the corner, she slammed into a solid object. Her eyes quickly turned upward, and her face blanched. Her stomach lurched as the pale eyes of Gisborne glared down at her.

  “My apologizes, my Lord,” she gushed. “Please, I...”

  “Do watch where you’re going in the future,” he snarled harshly as he breezed down the hall.

  “Yes, my Lord. Thank you,” she said weakly, bowing low.

  She froze in place, her eyes turned demurely toward the floor as the clomp of his boots and the jingle of the buckles on his armor faded away. As soon as he was gone, she snapped back into reality and hurried up the stairs and toward the guest wing to prepare the rooms.

  Lord Blackstock rarely entertained guests. He didn’t particularly care for people, but in this case, he was hosting a grand banquet for the Lords of several nearby towns. It was crucial for him to win the approval of the other Lords, he’d told Gisborne, in order for his plan to succeed. What that plan was, Marian did not know, but it chilled her just the same. Anything Blackstock would concoct could not be good.

  As a consequence of his general disdain for human company, the guest rooms were in sore need of attention. The curtains were thick with dust, the beds were musty and needed to be changed, and the rooms were blanketed in cobwebs and mold.

  “I’ll never finish this by dusk,” she muttered, staring at the first room in disbelief.

  As the two o’clock hour neared, her stomach began to churn. She tried to forget about her conversation with Robin, to push it into the back of her mind and concentrate on the task at hand, but it kept gnawing at her, eating away at her soul.

  Marian’s body jerked involuntarily, overturning her bucket and spilling water onto the floor as the heavy wooden door slammed against the wall. Mirabelle, eyes wide, bust into the room and stood heaving in the doorway.

  “Marian, you are needed in the Banquet Hall immediately!” Mirabelle panted. “They’re arriving early, and we must get the Hall ready to receive them!”

  Marian snatched up her bucket and slid through the spilled water, struggling to regain her footing. She followed Mirabelle down the hallway, struggling to keep up with her long strides.

  “Yes, I’m certain, my Lord,” Gisborne’s voice echoed quietly down the hallway as they passed Lord Blackstock’s study. “My source says their attempt will be made at two o’clock.”

  “And I assume your source is reliable?” Blackstock growled.

  “Absolutely, my Lord.”

  “Then take care of it,” Blackstock ordered.

  “As you wish,” Gisborne said.

  Marian’s heart leaped into her throat, forming a solid knot that she couldn’t swallow away. They knew! Robin was walking into a trap!

  They were silent as they edged along the outer wall of the castle, hidden within the shadows. A guard patrolled above them, his armor clanging loudly as he marched back and forth atop the wall.

  Robin motioned with his hand for the group to move forward as soon as the guard turned to march in the other direction, and they all moved as one fluid unit toward the gate.

  “What time is the changing of the guard?” whispered young Will Scarlet, one of Robin’s most trusted allies. He was barely sixteen and sharp as a blade.

  “Five ‘til two,” Robin whispered back. “Should be any moment, now.”

  Robin peeked around the solid wall and through the slats in the giant gate. The guard had his back turned, walking away. He waited as the guard walked away, disappearing around a corner.

  “Now,” Robin whispered, and Will launched a silent arrow through the slats, pushing a lever to its opposite side.

  The portcullis began to rise rapidly, but it lurched as though it might fall. John Little, the hulking brute with rippling muscles and a jolly stomach, launched himself underneath it. The massive gate fell onto his shoulders, and he grunted heavily as the weight crushed down upon him. His face turned red, and veins bulged in his temples.

  “Go!” he snarled, gritting his teeth together as he struggled to remain upright.

  Robin and the others scrambled underneath the portcullis as quickly as possible. John strained to keep the gate aloft upon his back. Sweat erupted on his forehead, trickling down and getting lost in his bushy beard. When the last of the group had made it through the gate, John heaved it upward and slipped outside to wait for them.

  Robin flattened himself against the wall, sliding along it, away from the sight of the guards. The others followed him, keeping to the shadows. They watched as the second guard made his way across the courtyard, nodding his head to the first guard. The group disappeared inside the northeast guard tower just before the guard turned his head toward them.

  “Right,” Robin breathed with relief. “Will, you know what to do. Alan, with me.”

  “Robin!” a voice hissed, and he turned his head to see Marian running toward them, her face drawn with fright.

  “Marian!” he said with a smile. “I thought you weren’t going to...”

  “They know!” she whispered, and Robin’s smile disappeared.

  “What?” he asked.

  “They know you’re coming! I overheard Gisborne and Blackstock. Someone informed Gisborne, and they’re looking for you!”

  “How did...” he started to ask.

  “I don’t know, but we have to get you out of here!” she said. “Follow me.”

  Marian turned to dash away, but Robin grabbed her elbow and clutched it tightly, whirling her around.

  “We’re not running,” Robin said.

  “What? But they know you’re here!” Marian gasped. “They’ll...”

  “Marian!” Robin snapped. “This is our only chance. If we don’t do this today, we won’t get another shot.”

  “Robin...”

  “We’re not running,” Robin repeated. “Think of all the people we can help.”

  Marian pursed her lips together and sighed heavily.

  “Fine, what’s your plan, and make it fast. Mirabelle’s expecting me in the Banquet Hall right now.”

  Robin quickly laid out the details of their plan as Marian listened intently, her ears alert for movement.

  “Do you have an extra bow?” Marian asked.

  A sly grin curled up at the edge of Robin’s lips, and with a twinkle in his eye, he produced a bow and quiver from beneath his cloak. She snatched it away from him.

  “I knew you’d help,” he grinned.

  She shot him a furtive glance and turned away from him without a word. Slinging the quiver over her shoulder and withdrawing an arrow, she slid it against the bowstring and headed down the hallway. Peeking around the corner, she waved the group on, watching in the other direction.

  They disappeared down the hall just as she heard footsteps echoing from the other direction. A cursory glance revealed Gisborne heading in her direction. With trembling hands, she quickly stashed the bow and quiver behind a curtain. As she straightened up, she nearly ran into him as he rounded the corner.

  “Marian,” he uttered, surprised to see her. “What are you doing down here?”

  “I... um... was just dusting the curtains down this hallway,” she said quickly.

  “I see,” he said, seemingly accepting her excuse. “Well, you should get to the Banquet Hall immediately. I’ve word that the castle may be under attack. It’s not safe out here, especially for a young woman.”

 
“Yes, my Lord,” she said, bowing with feigned respect.

  Gisborne turned on his heel and marched down the hall toward the guard tower. She exhaled with relief, and as soon as he disappeared beyond the door, she retrieved her bow and quiver, stashing it underneath her skirt, and made her way to the Banquet Hall.

  “Marian!” Mirabelle shouted as soon as she stepped through the door. “Where have you been, girl?”

  “I’m so sorry, Miss,” Marian explained. “I was detained by Gisborne.”