John’s laughter slowly waned into a slight chuckle, and then it finally subsided. With the back of his arm, he wiped the tears of laughter away from his cheeks. He took a deep breath.
“Don’t you worry one bit, Marian,” John said. “We’ll get him out of there.”
“How? They’ll have that place locked down tight with the banquet tomorrow.”
“You just let us worry about that,” he said.
“What can I do to help?” she asked.
“I thought you didn’t want to get involved,” John said, a sly twinkle in his eye.
“It’s my fault Robin’s in this mess,” she said. “I have to help.”
“I think it’s best if you just stay out of it for now,” John told her. “You’ve done enough. You shouldn’t risk anything more.”
“But, I...”
“Stop it,” John said, putting his arm around her shoulder. “This isn’t your fault.”
“He’s right, Marian,” her father said weakly from his chair. “Robin knew the risks when he went in there.”
Marian nodded, sniffling.
“We’ll get him out,” John said firmly. “I promise.”
Marian nodded again, and John opened the door. He turned around and bowed lightly, and Marian smiled weakly. He closed the door behind him.
“I know what you’re thinking, Marian,” her father said. “Don’t do it.”
“Father, I have to,” she said.
“Robin wouldn’t want you to. You heard John. This is too risky for you.”
Not wanting to worry her father, she said, “Yes, you’re right, Father. I’ll let John handle it.”
As she hurried about preparing dinner, a plan began to develop inside her head. She knew what she had to do.
CHAPTER THREE
Marian completed her chores well before the cock crowed the next morning, and she made it to the castle right at sunup. The guards were on alert, and dozens of them roamed the halls and stood erect at every corner.
She gathered a basket of food and made her way down to the dungeon. Her hands trembled nervously as she approached the door. She cleared her throat, and the guard, who was sleeping in a chair beside the door, immediately stood at attention.
“I’ve brought food for the prisoners,” she said confidently.
The guard said nothing, rattling the keys in the iron lock. The door clanged open, and she stepped inside, the guard closing it behind her with a bang.
“Robin,” she whispered outside the door of his cell.
“Marian?”
“I’ve come to get you out of here,” she whispered.
“I told you to let John handle this!” he hissed at her.
“Shut up and pretend you’re sick,” she said.
“What?”
“Just do it!”
Robin groaned dramatically, rolling his eyes in jest at his own uproarious overacting.
“Guard!” Marian shouted. “Guard, help!”
The door clanged, and the guard rushed toward her.
“Guard, quick, send for the physician!” she barked.
“What for?” the guard asked.
Robin groaned more loudly from within the cell, and Marian clenched her jaw to suppress laughter.
“The prisoner is sick. Lord Blackstockwill have your head if this prisoner doesn’t make it to hisvery public execution,” Marian snapped. “Now go!”
“I... I can’t,” he said. “I’ve orders not to...”
“Do you want this prisoner to die before Lord Blackstock can make a public example of him?” Marian asked angrily.
“N-no, but...”
“Then go!” she shouted.
“I can’t!” the guard insisted. “My orders...”
Marian shook her head sadly.
“Well, this is unfortunate, then,” she muttered, sticking her hand inside her basket.
She withdrew a heavy iron pan and smashed it across the guard’s head. She heard a sickening crack, and the guard slumped onto the floor, his head tilted at a grotesque angle.
“Oh, no,” she whispered as she noted the state of him.
Blood dripped from his nose and dribbled onto the floor. She gulped heavily and stashed the pan back inside the basket. She dropped the basket beside the guard and snagged his keys, unlocking Robin’s cell. Quickly, they unlocked the other cells, releasing the entire group.
“Follow me,” Marian said, grabbing her basket.
They followed her up the stairs and down a long corridor. She stopped outside a door and said, “Wait here, and when the guard comes, grab my basket and hit him with the pan.”
Robin nodded in acknowledgement, and then she disappeared behind the door. She crossed through the room and exited through a door on the other side. She made her way down the hallway, nodding comfortably to the guard standing at the corner. He nodded back politely.
She rounded the corner and spotted Robin and the others. She winked at them, and then she shouted, “Guard! The prisoners escaped!”
Robin grabbed Marian, holding her in a threatening manner. Her eyes were wide and fearful as the guard rushed down the hallway toward Robin, his sword drawn. Robin snatched the basket away from Marian and pushed her out of harm’s way.
She flattened herself against the wall. The guard slashed at Robin, and he withdrew the pan from the basket. He deflected the sword’s blow with the pan and deftly stepped behind the guard, bashing him in the head with it. He slumped to the ground. Robin grabbed his sword.
“Let’s go!” she whispered. “In case we meet anyone else, act like I’m your hostage.”
Robin wrapped his arms around Marian, holding the sword to her throat. They crept quietly along the hallway, Marian guiding them, until they neared the rear exit. She heard footsteps behind them.
“It’s just out through there,” she whispered. “Hit me.”
“What?” Robin asked, confused.
“Hit me!” she repeated. “It’s the only way they’ll believe you escaped without my help, and you owe me one!”
He hesitated, but as the footsteps grew louder, he clenched his jaw and struck her sharply across the face. She slammed into the wall and slouched to the floor. His face was drawn with remorse, but the group burst out the door. Two guards rushed them, but Robin easily deflected their attacks with the guard’s sword, and they fled toward Lake Heron, disappearing below the surface.
“Marian!” she heard faintly, something tapping against her cheek. “Marian!”
She gasped, her eyes wide as she looked straight into the face of Gisborne.
“Marian, are you hurt?” he asked.
“I... what happened, my Lord?” she asked, shaking her head to clear it.
“You don’t remember?” he asked.
“I...” she gasped. “The prisoners! They’ve escaped!”
She tried to struggle to her feet, but Gisborne held her down.
“They’ve already gone,” he said.
“No!” she moaned. “I tried to stop them, but they overpowered me when I took them their breakfast.”
“You took them breakfast? On whose orders?” Gisborne snarled.
“I don’t know, my Lord,” she said. “I was stopped by a guard. He said I was to take the prisoners their breakfast, and he handed me a basket.”
“One of his men, no doubt,” Gisborne muttered. “We must take you to the physician at once.”
“I’m fine, really,” she said, trying to stand, but slumping back to the floor as her head began to spin. “I have to get to work, my Lord.”
“You are in no condition to work today,” Gisborne said.
“I’ll get her to the physician, my Lord,” said one of the guards.
“No, I’ll take her there myself,” Gisborne snapped.
“Yes, my Lord,” the guard deferred.
“I’m fine, my Lord, please,” she argued weakly, the room spinning.
Gisborne lifted her arm and wrapped it around his shoulder, attempting to pull he
r to her feet. Her knees wobbled, bucking and sending her nearly tumbling to the floor. Gisborne caught her, sweeping her into his arms. She tried to protest, but blackness crept in from the outer edges of her vision, and soon it enveloped her entirely.
“I must ask you to leave the room.”
Marian’s hearing was muffled and throbbing. Where was she? She blinked, but she saw nothing but blurred haze.
“How is she?”
“She’ll be fine. Please, she needs rest!”
Marian tilted her head toward the doorway. She could see the blurry outline of someone trying to push past someone else, but the guardian stood firm.
“Don’t make me call the guards.”
The dark figure growled with exasperation, and then faded away. The lighter figure turned toward her.
“Ah, you’re awake,” the female voice said. “Are you hungry?”
“I... I can’t see,” Marian said hoarsely.
“Don’t worry, the physician says you’ll be back to normal before you know it,” the woman said comfortingly. “You just need some rest. Here, take this.”
The woman grasped Marian’s hands and pressed a warm cup between them. Then she lifted Marian’s hands to her lips. Marian’s lips parted and a rich, flavorful broth flowed over her tongue. She gulped greedily, having not tasted anything so delicious in many months. When the cup was drained, the woman took it from her and set it aside.
“Rest now,” he said, tucking the blankets in around her.
Marian could feel the downy softness of the bed underneath her, so unlike the rough, straw-filled mattress on her bed at home. A fire crackled nearby, the musky scent of smoke and burning wood wafting through the room. Soon, the gentle crackle of the fire lulled her to sleep.
CHAPTER FOUR
The conversation outside the door was taking placed in hushed tones, but she could hear it plainly. Their voices were quiet, but strained.
“You cannot be serious!”
“My Lord, need I remind you this woman prevented the loss of an enormous amount of your gold. At the very least, you owe her this.”
“Why do I owe her anything? It’s my gold! She only stopped the theft of what was mine!”
“And she was gravely injured in the process of attempting to stop the escape of those very same criminals.”
“I fail to see your point.”
“My Lord, if we fail to take action in this case, the other Lords may not want to side with you. Remember, it was you who said their support was imperative. This is a woman who risked her own safety to protect your assets, and with an ailing father to boot. The other Lords would not look kindly on you if you ignore your obligations.”
“Hmm. Alright, I’m listening.”
“If you care for this woman, show her every courtesy, the other Lords will see you as a benevolent leader. You’ll be almost guaranteed to win their support!”
“I see. Yes. Yes, maybe you’re right.”
“Shall I see to it, my Lord?”
“Yes, yes, see to it.” The voice was reluctant and annoyed.
“You should inform the girl yourself, my Lord. She should believe this order came from you.”
“Ah-ha! Yes, you’re quite right. Quite right, indeed.”
Marian closed her eyes quickly as the shadowy figure of Lord Blackstock crept close to the bed. He leaned over her and cleared his throat. She jerked her body as if surprised by his presence.
“Young lady?”
She blinked at him, barely able to see his face in the dark room.
“My Lord?”
“You have done me a great service, young lady,” he said as kindly as he could manage. “Thus I have decided to bring your father to the castle for the duration of your stay here. You will both be well looked after until you are well enough to go home.”
“Thank you, my Lord,” she gushed with all the false appreciation she could manage. “You are too kind.”
“It’s no trouble at all, my dear,” he said. “It is the least I can do for someone who has done such a great service to me. You must rest, now.”
He patted her gently through the blanket and then stood, wiping his hand on his robes as though it had been soiled by touching her, and trying in vain to suppress a grimace of disgust. He closed the door behind him.
As her eyes adjusted to the darkness, she could have sworn she recognized the room she was in. She strained to see her surroundings, and they slowly became clearer and clearer. She finally realized where she was with a gasp.
The sparse furnishings, the massive bed so neatly made save the spot where she laid... it could only be Gisborne’s own chamber.
“What am I doing in here?” she whispered aloud, pulling the covers up to her chin.
The door opened, and a plump woman dressed in ivory strolled in carrying a tray. She placed the tray on the bedside table.
“How are you feeling today?” she asked, and Marian recognized her voice from the previous day.
“I can see better, but my head still hurts,” Marian replied.
“Ah, well that’s something. I brought you something to eat.”
“This is Lord Gisborne’s chamber, isn’t it?” Marian asked.
“It is, yes.”
“Why am I in here?”
“Guest quarters are all full with the visitors. Lord Gisborne graciously offered the use of his chamber, as he rarely uses it anyway.”
“Oh. I see.”
“Here, take this,” the woman said, handing a wooden bowl to Marian.
Marian held the bowl to her nose and breathed deeply. It smelled delicious. She lifted the spoon to her mouth and sipped the thick, hearty broth. The flavor flowed over her tongue, and she felt bumps erupting on her skin as she shivered with delight.
“What is this?” she asked.
“Lamb stew, I believe,” the woman replied. “Or maybe it was venison. I can’t remember.”
It had been so long since Marian had tasted meat. She dipped another spoonful and a chunk of meat dropped onto her tongue. She rolled it around in her mouth, savoring the rich flavor, feeling the meaty texture. It was heavenly.
“Here, you might want this for the gravy,” the woman said, handing her a buttery white roll.
Marian’s fingers clasped around it. It had been months since she’d even touched white bread, and that had been destined for Lord Blackstock’s private meal. She breathed in the sweet, yeasty smell before dipping it into the stew. Her teeth sank into the pillowy softness, and the earthy flavor of the gravy melded with the buttery bread making her shiver with delight once more.
For a moment, her heart was heavy with guilt. She knew so many of her countrymen had little or nothing to eat, and to taste such luxury was a burden she could ill accept. But she was so weak and so hungry that she gulped the rest down quickly, refusing to allow herself to enjoy it.
The woman gave her a cup of water, which she also gulped down hurriedly, and then the tray was whisked away, leaving Marian alone to think.
She thought of the fact that Lord Blackstock and Gisborne were scheming to use her and her father to sway the sentiments of the other Lords. What were they planning? She knew it must be something nefarious if Lord Blackstock was so willing to bend to the advice of his lackey. She had to find out. Whatever they were planning, she knew they needed to be stopped. If only she could get word to Robin.
It was useless. There was no one she could trust to get a message to him, and it would be far too dangerous for Robin to visit her at the castle. No, she’d have to wait until she was better to see him. She only hoped it wouldn’t be too late to stop whenever Blackstock and Gisborne were planning.
She shuddered, and her stomach grumbled as she thought of lying there in Gisborne’s bed. He made her sick. The way he’d belittled her home, the way he was using her for his twisted little plot... it disgusted her. She’d never hated anyone so much. Her head began to throb violently, and she snuggled down under the covers. At least he rarely slept in thi
s bed, she thought.
She was sick of being weak and powerless. Sick of being afraid to do anything to help her neighbors. It was time to stand up to Blackstock and Gisborne.
The Secret of Gisborne: A BBW Shifter Paranormal Romance (House of Gisborne Book 1) Page 4
