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

by Alanis Knight

  “I’m fine, Marian,” he said, stepping forward and taking her into his arms.

  His sandy hair rippled across his forehead in the evening breeze, and his emerald eyes sparkled in the moonlight. His face was boyish, playful, yet his eyes were serious. His muscles twitched as she slid her hands up his arms.

  “Robin...”

  She couldn’t find words, but it didn’t matter. His hand brushed a stray lock of hair away from her face, and he covered her mouth with his. Her eyes closed, and her body pressed against his. His lips were firm, insistent. Hers were soft, accepting. Robin’s fingers wrapped in her long chestnut tresses and held firmly.

  “You couldn’t get rid of me if you tried, Marian,” he said softly.

  “Promise me,” she demanded.

  “You have my word as a gentleman,” he said, bowing politely.

  “Oh, you!” she giggled, slapping his chest playfully. “See you tomorrow.”

  “Tomorrow,” he agreed.

  Marian jogged down the hill and approached the front door of the cottage. Her eyes swept briefly over the dusty ground, noticing what appeared to be fresh hoof prints. Her brow furrowed, her eyes scanning for a sign of someone nearby. Then she shrugged.

  “Must have been from another time,” she muttered, and she entered the cabin and closed the door behind her.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  It was Friday. The festival was tomorrow, and she was already behind on her preparations. She was up well before the cock crowed, baking honey cakes studded with raisins and sewing her dress for the dance.

  Normally, the festival was a joyous occasion, but this year, Marian’s heart was heavy. She hated Gisborne. Despised him. Yet, she couldn’t help but feel that luring an unsuspecting man—or monster—to his death was somehow wrong.

  The sun was still hours away from rising when Marian entered the castle courtyard. With so much left to do before the festival, Marian wanted to get home as early as she could. She found Mirabelle who told her to clean the chambers and report back to her when she finished.

  Marian knocked on Gisborne’s door.

  “Enter,” came the gruff response.

  The door whined as she pushed it open. Gisborne was standing with is back to her, his arms crossed, studying a painting on the wall beside the window.

  “I’ve come to clean, my Lord,” she said.

  “Marian, we must talk,” he said, his voice rougher than ever.

  “My Lord?”

  “I saw you with him,” Gisborne said calmly, his eyes still glued to the painting in front of him—a couple embracing.

  “I don’t know what you mean,” Marian said coolly.

  “I saw you... with Robin... Hood...” he snarled, whirling to face her, nostrils flaring.

  “Robin Hood is dead,” she shot back. “You said so yourself just yesterday.”

  “Don’t lie to me,” he warned her, suddenly inches from her face. “Don’t you dare lie to me!”

  “I’m not! How could I have been with him if he’s dead?” she asked defiantly.

  “I saw you!” he yelled, his face red with fury. “I saw you kiss him on the hill by the forest!”

  Gisborne’s face was taut, drawn with rage and a mix of other emotions Marian found difficult to decipher.

  “And what if I did?” she hurled at him, but she was suddenly regretful and afraid.

  “You belong to me!” Gisborne shouted, grasping her elbow tightly, his pulse throbbing in his temples and his lips curling ferociously over his pearly white teeth.

  “I belong to no one!” Marian shouted, her palm slicing across Gisborne’s face sharply.

  She wrenched her elbow from his grasp and fled. Her heart was filled with dread. She’d done it, now. His wrath would be swift, and her father would most likely be the primary target, given Gisborne’s knowledge of her deep love for him. She raced down the lane toward home with tears streaming down her flushed cheeks.

  “Marian!” his voice called after her, loud and angry. “Marian!”

  His voice carried down the road after her, rolling across the hills and echoing over the water of Lake Heron. Marian flew as fast as her feet would carry her, the thin soles of her shoes snagging painfully on every rock and root. She was certain Gisborne would be behind her on his white stallion, capturing her and whisking her off to the castle where she’d be locked away forever for her defiance. Or worse, her father would be jailed... or even executed.

  “No!” she snarled, her eyes stinging with tears. “I won’t let you!”

  Her ears strained to hear the hoof beats behind her. The further she ran, the more certain she was that she heard them behind her. But they never came. She burst through the front door of her cottage with sweat sticking her thick hair to her neck and staining her pink cheeks with white streaks.

  “Father!” she panted. “We... have to... go...”

  “Go? Go where?”

  “We have to leave... get out of here, quickly! It’s Gisborne!”

  “What? What about Gisborne? What happened?”

  “He asked me today... if it was true that I’d been seen with Robin,” she wailed. “I tried to lie, but... he could see it on my face! He told me I belong to him, and I slapped him and told him I belong to no one, and then I just ran. I ran all the way home! Oh, Father, we have to go!”

  All the while she’d been throwing clothing into a bag. Hers, her fathers... anything within reach the tossed into the bag in clumps.

  “How are we going to...” her father started to ask.

  “I’m going to hire a carriage in town,” she said.

  “How? We have no money,” her father reminded her.

  “I’ll figure something out.”

  “Marian!” a voice from outside the cottage was shrill and full of rage.

  Marian gasped, frozen in horror with her hand inside the bag. Her eyes flitted quickly to her father, whose face was filled with confusion.

  “Marian!” he shouted, his fist pounding the door so hard the walls vibrated and things clattered to the floor.

  “You’d better answer it,” her father warned her.

  “But... what do I say? What do I do?” she wailed.

  There was a great crash and the splintering of wood as Gisborne kicked down the door. Shards of wood flew about the room, scattering across the floor. Marian sat back onto the bed grasping her bag.

  Gisborne stood in the doorway panting, his eyes bulging, his dark hair whipping viciously around his face. His hands were clenched into white-knuckled fists as his chest heaved.

  “Where are you going, Marian?” he growled. “Running away with Robin Hood?”

  “It is no concern of yours!” she shouted, though she sorely wished she could shut her mouth.

  “Is most certainly is my concern! You are to be my wife, not his!”

  “Don’t you mean I am to be your property, my Lord?” she spat at him.

  “I only meant...”

  “I know what you meant!” she yelled. “You think I’m your pawn, your plaything to do as you like. But I’m here to tell you, Lord Gisborne, that I’d rather die than marry a monster like you!”

  The rage on his face was immediately displaced by some other indiscernible emotion. His hands relaxed slightly, and the lines around his eyes softened.

  “Monster,” he said softly, backing slightly away from her. “Is that what you think of me?”

  “What else am I to think?” she snarled with a fearsome sneer. “I saw you, as well! You think I don’t know what you are, but I saw you that night in Lord Winston’s chamber. I saw what you are!”

  Gisborne looked deeply wounded. He staggered backward, bumping into the doorframe where the remains of the door flapped in the breeze. Marian saw him swallow hard.

  “What are you...”

  “Oh, don’t pretend like you don’t know,” she snapped. “I saw you bite him! I saw those fangs. You’re a monster!”

  “Marian, I...”

  “I’m leavi
ng,” she said. “I’m taking my father, and I’m leaving. If you try to stop me, you’ll just have to kill me, because I’ll never, ever marry you!”

  She stuffed another wad of clothing into the bag and stood up.

  “I guess your mind is made up,” he said quietly.

  “It is.”

  “Will you do me one last favor?” he asked.

  “Do you deserve one?”

  “Please, Marian. One last thing.”

  “What is it?”

  “Don’t leave until I return.”

  “What? Oh, so you can bring your guards and have me arrested? Arrest my father? No thank you!”

  “You have my word that no harm will come to either of you. Please just do me this one favor.”

  His gray-blue eyes were glistening. He looked broken, but sincere. She sighed.

  “I don’t know why I’m trusting you, but fine. I’ll stay here until you return as long as you are prompt.”

  He nodded his head and backed out the door.

  Marian heard the familiar cluck of his tongue, and his horse’s hooves began to thunder away. Her father shook his head.

  “You’re really going to trust that monster?” he asked.

  “I’m of the hope that he may let us leave peacefully if I comply,” she said. “Otherwise, he will likely hunt us to the ends of the Earth.”

  Marian sat on the bed picking tiny balls of fabric from the blanket. Time seemed to crawl by. She’s nearly given up hope when she heard the pounding of hooves—multiple horses.

  “I knew it!” her father said. “He’s brought the guards!”

  “No...” she whispered, fear gripping her throat with a choke hold.

  The hooves stopped, and Gisborne appeared at the door.

  “Marian,” he commented, bowing respectfully. “Your carriage awaits.”

  Marian’s forehead wrinkled in confusion. Abandoning the bag on the bed, she rose and stepped toward the door. Gisborne moved aside, and she peered outside at the carriage that stood waiting for her. Two white horses pawed and stamped the ground, waiting impatiently to pull their subjects.

  “I don’t understand,” Marian whispered.

  “I’m not a monster, Marian, despite what you may have seen or heard,” he said quietly. “You father is not well, and if you truly mean to leave, then I wanted to ensure the two of you would be safe on your journey.”

  “I... I don’t know to say.”

  “Will you walk with me?” he asked.

  In his eyes, Marian could only see the depths of sincerity. Her mind kept screaming at her not to trust him, but she nodded.

  “I’ll be right back, Father,” she said over her shoulder.

  Gisborne held his elbow out to her, and she took it. They began to walk down the lane. The early morning breeze was gentle, and the earthy scent of grass and damp leaves wrapped around them.

  “Marian, there are things about me you don’t know. Things you will never know or understand. As many things as you do know about me, or think you do... there are many more that you do not,” he said. “I only ask that you offer me the courtesy of getting to know me before you pass judgment.”

  “My Lord, what you ask is not easy,” she said.

  “Please, let us dispense with formality, Marian,” he begged of her. “Please, call me by my given name, at least in privacy. Call me Guy.”

  “I do not believe that would be appropriate, my Lord.”

  “Please. If only between us.”

  “Alright... Guy.”

  His lip twitched slightly as he heard her speak his name for the first time.

  “I beg of you, do not leave. If you really wish it, I will not stand in your way. I’ve already paid for the carriage to take you anywhere you wish to go, and the driver has been instructed not to tell me, nor anyone else, where that is, under any circumstance. But I beg you to reconsider. Please, Marian.”

  In the morning air, she shivered. Her shoulders quivered, and her teeth chattered. Gisborne pulled his cloak away and wrapped it around her shoulders. She pulled it more tightly around her, aware of the rich, musky scent of him on it. They stopped on the lane.

  “Marian?” he asked.

  “I’ll stay,” she said. “For now.”

  Gisborne’s eyes closed briefly, and he exhaled. A smile played upon his lips, and he bowed his head solemnly.

  “Thank you,” he said sincerely. “You will not regret it. And you’ll still allow me to escort you to the dance on Saturday evening?”

  “Of course,” she replied.

  He glanced at the sky, which was just beginning to lighten. His lips opened to speak, but Marian stopped him.

  “Go,” she said. “Get home before the sun rises.”

  He nodded, and the two of them turned around and headed back to the cottage.

  “Are you working today?” he asked.

  “I must.”

  “Then the carriage will drive you so you won’t be late,” he said as he mounted his horse. “Thank you.”

  She nodded politely, and he turned his horse, clucked his tongue, and rode toward the castle as the sun began to peek slightly above the trees in the distance.

  “Father, I’m going to work,” she said. “I’ll have someone repair the door this evening. Until then, I’ll hang a blanket to keep out the cold.”

  “He got to you, didn’t he?” her father groaned disapprovingly, noticing the cloak dangling from her shoulders.

  She glanced down at it, not having realized she was still wearing it.

  “Oh, dear,” she said. “No, he didn’t get to me, Father. Robin has a plan for him, and in order to make it happen, I need to get Gisborne to the right place at the right time. If I’m not here, Robin will lose his opportunity.”

  “There will be other opportunities, Marian.”

  “Not like this one. And how many more will have to die at Gisborne’s hands in the mean time?”

  “Sun’s almost up,” her father said gruffly. “You’d better go.”

  She hung the blanket over the door and added more wood to the fire. Kissing her father on the forehead, she made her way out to the carriage and told the driver to take her to the castle as quickly as possible.

  Once there, she scurried into the kitchen looking disheveled. Mirabelle eyed her curiously up and down.

  “Another new cloak?” Mirabelle commented.

  “Oh, dear, I forgot about it again,” Marian groaned, removing it and hanging it on a hook in the servants closet.

  “Is that Lord Gisborne’s cloak?” Mirabelle asked.

  “It is.”

  “Well, well,” Mirabelle grinned. “I suppose the wedding’s on, then?”

  “Absolutely not!” Marian countered.

  “You’re not thinking of trying to turn him down, are you?” Mirabelle asked in a warning tone.

  “I most certainly am,” Marian said. “If he thinks I will marry him, he’s crazy.”

  “It’s your funeral,” Mirabelle commented with a shrug.

  “What is my job this morning?” Marian asked, ignoring Mirabelle’s comment.

  “Start with Lord Blackstock’s study.”

  “B-but... can’t someone else...”

  “Move it, girl!” Mirabelle shouted. “I haven’t got all day.”

  “Yes, Miss,” Marian said quickly.

  As she stood outside the study, her fingers trembled. She had hoped she would never have to face that room again, but now she was facing it again already. She lifted her hand to knock, but lowered it again.

  “Marian?”

  She twirled around, her heart racing, nearly dropping her bucket.

  “Oh, Guy!” she breathed, relieved. “I mean... Lord Gisborne.”

  “I thought perhaps you might feel more comfortable with an escort,” he said.

  “I would,” she admitted. “Thank you, my Lord.”

  Gisborne threw open the door and stepped aside, waving his hand toward the entrance. She entered the room, pleased to
see that Blackstock was nowhere to be seen.

  Gisborne closed the door behind them, and Marian immediately went to work, eager to get out of that room as quickly as possible. She dusted the shelves, wiped his desk, and began to scrub the floor.