“Did you find out anything about the baskets of food?” Will asked her.
“Nothing. I didn’t hear any mention of it around the castle,” she answered.
“John’s going to the village tonight to see if he can catch him in the act,” Will said. “If he comes to town again tonight, John will see him.”
Marian spent a bit of time training with the punching dummy, and then Will had her move to kicks. Sure enough, the pants helped. She was improving rapidly.
“A few more sessions like this and you can move on to sparring with a live opponent!” he said.
“Great!” she exclaimed. “I’m ready now!”
“Are you sure?” Will asked.
“I’m ready!” she repeated, holding her fists in front of her. “Let’s go!”
Will threw a weak punch at her, and she easily deflected it with her palm. He kicked at her, and she dodged sideways, easily missing it. Another punch, and she ducked, his punch sailing over her head.
“Come on, Will!” she urged him. “Stop being a...”
The punch landed square across her nose, and she staggered backward, landing on her bottom in the damp leaves. She felt liquid dribbling down her upper lip, and she put up her hand as she watched her palm fill with thick red blood.
“Sorry!” Will said, stooping down to check her nose.
Will’s feet suddenly flew out from under him, and he landed on the ground with his limbs splayed at odd angles. Marian had literally swept him off his feet with her leg.
“I bet you were going to tell me to keep up my guard!” she laughed, blood spraying onto the leaves in front of her.
“I was, indeed!” he chuckled. “But I see you’re not the only one who needs to learn that lesson!”
The two of them dissolved into a fit of hysterical laughter as blood streamed down her nose, soaking into her thin cloth tunic. Will finally ripped a strip of cloth away from his own tunic and handed it to her, and she covered her nose with it, pinching it tightly to stem the flow.
“I think that’s enough for today,” Will said.
“Agreed,” she said. “Let’s get back to camp and see if John’s back.”
Once back at camp, they discovered John and the others sitting around and talking. John eyed her nose, which she was still pinching, but said nothing.
“John!” Will shouted. “What did you find, my friend?”
“Well, I nearly caught ‘im,” John said.
“Nearly?” Will asked.
“The little bugger slipped away,” John said. “But I caught a glimpse of him. Had a long cloak on, but I saw his hair peeking out from under it. It’s long and dark, kind ‘o wavy-like.”
“That’s all?” Will asked incredulously.
“He’s fast, I tell ya! Soon as he saw me he up and ran right off,” John said.
“Well, at least it’s a start,” Will said.
“So what happened to you?” John finally asked Marian.
She snorted with suppressed laughter and said, “I let my guard down.”
Will covered his mouth and snickered behind it, and John glared at him disapprovingly.
“You told Robin she’d be safe,” John growled.
“She is!” Will said. “And now she’s learned not to let her guard down, so she’ll be even safer! Isn’t that right, Marian.”
Marian winked at Will and nodded.
“Robin’s not gonna like this,” John groaned.
“He doesn’t have to know,” Marian said, shooting a warning glance at John.
“Don’t you worry, I won’t be tellin’ ‘im,” John said. “Don’t even want to be around if anyone else tells him, neither!”
They all had a good laugh, and Will suggested it might be time to take Marian home. She agreed, and Will escorted her safely back to the edge of the forest.
“Will?” she said, glancing back at him over her shoulder.
“Yeah?”
“Thank you,” she said with a smile.
“For what? Breaking your nose?”
“Exactly. Robin would have been too gentle with me, and I wouldn’t have learned anything. So I’m glad you’re teaching me. Thank you.”
Will’s face turned as scarlet as his namesake, and he dropped his eyes to the leaves below him.
“See you tomorrow,” he said.
“Tomorrow,” she nodded, and she jogged down the hill toward the cottage.
CHAPTER NINE
The courtyard was abuzz when Marian entered the gates the next morning well before the sun rose. The gallows had been erected, and most of the staff had gathered along with most of the village residents.
“What’s going on?” Marian asked as she approached Mirabelle.
“Some bloke was caught pilfering food in town late last night,” Mirabelle answered. “They’re hanging him before dawn.”
“I can’t watch,” Marian groaned.
“I wouldn’t miss this if I were you,” Mirabelle warned her sternly. “This is compulsory.”
Gisborne emerged from the castle with his iron grip wrapped around the bicep of one of the villagers. Marian gasped, recognizing him as the father of three small children, the husband of a friend of hers.
“Mirabelle!” she whispered. “That’s Robert! I know his wife!”
“Well, there’s nothing you can do, so just hush up,” Mirabelle hissed.
Gisborne jerked the struggling man up the steps. Gisborne himself pushed him into place at the top of the gallows, and a burly man covered Robert’s head with a burlap hood.
Lord Blackstock swept into the courtyard in his royal finery. He stood just outside the door with a scroll in his hand.
“Robert of Darrowshire,” Blackstock called coldly, reading from the scroll. “You have been found guilty of theft. The sentence is death by hanging. Do you have any final words?”
Robert thrust his head proudly into the air and remained silent.
“Then I decree that the punishment be carried out at once!” Blackstock shouted. “Proceed!”
“Robert!” shrieked a voice from somewhere in the crowd. Her voice cracked with pain and desperation as she called his name again, “Robert!”
Arms reached out, holding the soon-to-be-widow at bay. She struggled, desperate to reach him for one final goodbye, but the crowd held her fast.
Gisborne stepped back, clasping his hands in front of him and standing stonily as he watched. His face appeared completely devoid of emotion.
The hangman stepped forward, slipping the noose around Robert’s neck. He still held his head proudly aloft as the noose was tightened. Marian clenched her hands into fists and scrunched her eyes tightly. The screech of the trapdoor in the floor pierced the air, followed by the sound of the wooden door thumping against the gallows. A sickening crack followed, and then the cry of agony from his wife.
“Noooooo!” she shrieked shrilly.
Marian could feel her fingernails digging painfully into her palms. Her jaw was clenched to tightly it began to ache. She opened her eyes and watched as Gisborne swept coolly down the steps of the gallows and disappeared into the castle.
Pig, she thought as she glared after him. Inside her head, she spat at him, clawed his wretched eyes out, pushed him into the dirt and kicked him while he was down.
She pushed her way through the crowd and took Robert’s wife into her arms. His wife dissolved into sobs, her entire body trembling and her face purple with grief.
“Why?” she wailed. “Why, why, why?”
“Shh,” Marian whispered into her ear. “Don’t give Blackstock the satisfaction.”
The wife’s teeth chattered as she sucked in her grief. She sniffled loudly, wiping her nose on the sleeve of her dress, and then she brushed away her tears with her hands. She nodded an acknowledgement, and she pulled herself to her feet, holding onto Marian to steady herself. She thrust her head high into the air, just as her husband had.
“Let this be a warning to you all,” Blackstock bellowed. “Thi
eves are not tolerated in this kingdom! Good day.”
Blackstock cast a glance toward the horizon. The sun was slowly starting to creep upward, turning the sky a rich, deep blue. He swirled around and entered the castle, followed by two guards who closed the doors behind him.
“Thank you,” Robert’s wife whispered to Marian, clutching her hands, her voice hollow and breaking.
“Go home,” Marian told her. “Be with your children. They need you now more than ever.”
Marian watched helplessly as Robert’s wife, newly widowed, glanced back, watching her husband’s limp body being dragged from the gallows. The muscles in her jaw quivered, and her lips scrunched up. Tears welled in her eyes and slipped down her cheeks, but she held her head proudly high just as Robert had done. Then she turned and walked away as the crowd began to thin.
“Let’s get inside,” Mirabelle said, coming up behind Marian and laying a hand on her shoulder. “There’s work to be done.”
Marian nodded. The sooner she was finished, the sooner she could get back to training with Will. She needed something to keep her mind off what she’d just seen.
Marian approached Gisborne’s door. She said a silent prayer that the room would be unoccupied, and then she knocked gingerly upon it. No answer. She breathed a sigh of relief and opened it.
Immediately she regretted her action. Gisborne stood before her with beads of water trickling down his bare torso, his muscles rippling as he toweled his dark, wet hair. She thought she caught a glimpse of a tattoo of some sort on his right bicep, but he turned quickly and the tattoo was out of sight before it could fully register.
There was a bath drawn by the fireplace, and he wore nothing but a cloth around his waist. She flushed at the sight of his bare body, and her eyes widened involuntarily.
“I’m sorry!” she whispered, quickly turning around and slamming the door behind her.
She leaned back against the door and took a deep breath, willing her rapid heart to calm itself. Never had she seen a man in such a state, and her reaction both surprised and disgusted her. Her mind flashed to that tattoo. She’d barely seen it, but it looked so familiar. Where had she…
The door opened, and she quickly jumped away from it.
“My apologies, Marian,” he said behind her. “Did you knock?”
“Yes, my Lord, I did,” she answered, refusing to look at him.
“I didn’t hear you,” he said. “Give me a moment and I will be out of your way.”
“Yes, my Lord,” she said.
The door closed, and she waited patiently. Soon, he emerged fully clothed, his damp hair hanging in waves around his unshaven face. She gave him a cursory glance and quickly looked down at the floor.
“All yours,” he said.
“Thank you, my Lord,” she responded, slipping past him without a second glance.
She set about cleaning the room as quickly as possible. The thought of being in his room made her skin crawl. He’d been so cold, so unfeeling at the hanging. He stood there looking smug and emotionless, and he disappeared after the hanging without so much as a second glance. She was fuming.
She spent the rest of the day deliberately avoiding him. The few times she saw him coming in the hallway, she quickly turned and fled in the other direction, ducking into rooms to put as much distance between him and her as she could manage.
So many pictures floated through her mind—his fangs glinting in the moonlight, sinking into Lord Winston’s neck, Winston’s limp body falling into his arms, the emotionless look on his face at the gallows... it was too much to bear.
Oh, when was Robin coming home? Robin would surely have found a way to kill them, and then she wouldn’t have to be so frightened, anymore. Then again, with Lord Blackstock gone, she’d be out of a job. How would she feed her family?
It was all too much to bear. She finished her duties quickly and rushed to find Mirabelle, anxious to get home and off to train with Will.
“Oh, no, you can’t go home, yet,” Mirabelle said. “You’ve got to clean Lord Blackstock’s study. I haven’t had the time to do it.”
“Can’t Rebecca do it?” Marian asked. “I... I have somewhere I much be.”
“Rebecca’s on kitchen duty tonight,” Mirabelle said. “So get to it. The sooner you get it done, the sooner you can leave.”
Marian trudged unhappily toward Blackstock’s study, her head hanging. Each step was excruciating, and the closer she got to the study, the more anxious she grew. She paused outside the door to knock, but she heard voices within the room and she stopped to listen.
“Gisborne, I don’t want to hear another word about it,” Blackstock snarled. “I told you, we had to make an example of him!”
“Yes, my Lord, but perhaps this wasn’t the best time to do it,” Gisborne said. “Perhaps you could have kept him in the dungeon until the first wave of taxes had arrived. If word gets back to the other Lords that you’ve hanged a man for trying to feed his family...”
“That man was a thug and a thief,” Blackstock interrupted. “And if any of the Lords try to back out of our arrangement, you will handle it.”
“Yes, my Lord, I only meant...”
“Enough!” Blackstock shouted. “You bore me. Go bother someone else.”
“Yes, my Lord,” Gisborne submitted.
Hearing his boots crossing the floor, Marian quickly dashed down the hallway, turned around, and upon hearing the door creaking open, she began to walk toward him.
“Lord Gisborne,” she said with a polite nod.
“Marian,” he responded in kind.
His boots clacked down the hallway, and she gently knocked on the study door.
“Go away,” Blackstock called through the door.
“I beg your pardon, my Lord, but I’ve been sent to clean your study,” Marian called meekly.
“Fine, fine, come in,” Blackstock growled.
She entered the room and closed the door behind her, setting the bucket down on the floor near the door. Pieces of parchment littered the floor as if someone had thrown a tantrum, and she began to pick them up.
“Come here,” Blackstock said rather suddenly.
Marian’s eyes scanned the room. Seeing no one else, she slowly straightened up and walked over to his desk. His eyes traveled down to the bodice of her dress, lingering there for several moments before rising back up to her face.
“Yes, you’ll do just fine,” Blackstock said. “Come here.”
“I am here, my Lord,” she pointed out.
“I mean come here,” he clarified, motioning for her to come closer to him.
She placed the parchment on his desk and slowly edged around it, standing beside him. Her stomach twisted into tight knots, and she could scarcely breathe.
“Yes, my Lord?”
His hands shot up, grabbing her bodice and pulling downward sharply. The flimsy fabric ripped, her supple breasts spilling out. She froze, her face burning hot with rage. Her instinct was to slap him, but she was too terrified to move.
Blackstock grabbed her wrists and pulled her into his lap. She struggled against him, but his lips fastened tightly against hers. She tried to scream, but the sound was muffled by his persistent kiss.
“Stop!” she shrieked just as the door opened.
“My Lord, I’ve just thought of...” Gisborne was saying, then he quickly said, “Apologies, my Lord, I didn’t know... Marian?”
Gisborne’s gray-blue eyes lit up with recognition. His lips were parted, and his eyes darted from Marian’s face to Blackstock’s and back again. Marian twisted her wrists, wrenching herself from Blackstock’s claws and clutching her torn bodice against her chest.
“Get out!” Blackstock shouted at Marian, his eyes bulging and his face red, spittle launching from his mouth in every direction.
Marian dashed past Gisborne and fled down the hallway. She could hear his boots echoing rapidly behind her.
No, please don’t let him catch me and drag me back! she plead
ed in her mind.
“Marian!” his voice called out after her, but she kept running. “Marian, stop!”
Her feet moved faster as she ran. Down the corridor, out the door into the crisp evening air. The chill hit her hard, her shawl still hanging on its hook in the servants closet. She tripped over a stone, spilling onto the damp grass.
The Secret of Gisborne: A BBW Shifter Paranormal Romance (House of Gisborne Book 1) Page 9
