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

by Alanis Knight

  “And you’d be all right doing that?” Robin asked.

  “If it means feeding the people of Locksley Village, I’ll do anything,” Marian said.

  “And you don’t think he’ll hurt you?” Robin asked.

  “I don’t think so. He held the guards at bay when I threatened to kill him when I went to see him. if he’d wanted to hurt me, he had plenty of opportunity. But he let me go,” Marian said.

  “Hmm, good point,” Robin said.

  “Let’s not underestimate this, Robin,” warned John. “Remember, this is a castle we’re walking into, not a priory.”

  “Well, it’s not a proper castle, is it?” Will commented with a voice laced heavily with disdain. “Hasn’t even got a real courtyard or anything, just that little spot of grass with a bench. More of a manor, really.”

  “Will!” John snapped, and Will quickly closed his mouth. “The size of the castle means nothing. He has more guards than a manor, I’ll tell you that right now.”

  “Alright, fair point,” Will conceded.

  “Let’s go tomorrow,” Marian said.

  “But you’ve hardly had time to grieve,” Robin argued.

  “I don’t have the luxury of time to grieve,” she said. “The people are starving.”

  “We go tomorrow,” Robin said.

  Marian strode confidently through the darkened castle courtyard and stopped before the great entrance doors. The guards, obviously alert for more of her murderous rages, drew their swords slightly from their sheathes.

  “I wish to see Lord Gisborne,” she told the guards. “Please tell him I am here.”

  The guards leaned together, muttering. Finally, one of them waved his hand across the courtyard to another guard, whose chain armor clinked loudly as he jogged over.

  “Tell Lord Gisborne that she has come,” one of the door guards informed the new arrival.

  “Right away, Sir!” the guard replied, and he veered around the back of the castle.

  It was only moments later that the creak of the doors heralded his arrival. The massive doors spread apart, and Gisborne, looking rather haggard, his face unshaven, his hair unkempt, stood between them leaning forward with one hand propped on each.

  “Marian,” he said coolly.

  “Lord Gisborne, I would like to speak with you in private,” she said politely.

  “No more murder attempts, I take it?” he asked.

  “No, your Lordship, I only wish to speak with you.”

  For one long, painful moment, he was silent as he surveyed her. Then his eyes rolled upward and he sighed, pushing one of the doors aside to allow her entry. She pushed past him, and he closed the doors behind her.

  “What is it, then?” he growled.

  “Not here,” Marian said. “Can we go somewhere private, my Lord.”

  “The chapel is empty at the moment.”

  “That would be fine, my Lord.”

  She followed him slowly down the dim corridors, passing by the flaming torches along the walls, their flickering light casting eerie shadows along the walls. He pushed the chapel door open and waited as she entered the room, then he slipped in behind her and closed the door. Gisborne turned to her, leaning back against the door with his ankles and arms crossed.

  “Now, what have you to say?” he asked.

  “I’ve come to hear you out, my Lord,” Marian said. “I’ve had time to think, and perhaps I was too hasty before. You deserve the chance at least to speak.”

  Gisborne raised one eyebrow with curiosity and asked, “Why the change of heart?”

  She tried to keep the beating of her heart slow and steady, and she took a deep breath. She could not allow her body to betray her deception.

  “As I said, my Lord, I’ve had time to think, that is all. What say you on the matter?”

  “Hmm,” he said, still studying her face intently. He leaned away from the door and began to pace around her, his arms still crossed. “You sincerely wish to hear me out this time?”

  Her body was motionless with her head bowed solemnly, but her eyes followed his feet as he moved smoothly around her.

  “Yes, my Lord. I believe everyone should have the chance to make their point in any matter. Even you.” Marian couldn’t help the note of disgust in the last word, but Gisborne seemed not to notice.

  “Fine. If you truly wish to hear me, then I will speak,” he said, stopping in front of her. “Look at me.” She turned her eyes upward. “Marian, I swear on my honor that I did not kill your father.”

  “Go on.”

  “I wasn’t even here that day, Marian. I left after midnight for Nottingham Castle for a meeting with the Sheriff. I did not return until after dark, just before you arrived to shout at me,” he said.

  “And you’ve proof of this?” she demanded.

  “I most certainly do,” he said. “The guards here will testify that I left just after midnight and did not return until the evening, and there were dozens of guards and citizens who could speak for my presence in Nottingham.”

  “The guards would say anything you asked them to say,” she pointed out.

  “Perhaps, but what of those in Nottingham? You think the Sheriff’s men would be so eager to do my bidding?”

  “If you paid them well,” she said.

  “Marian,” he groaned, rolling his eyes. “Are you so eager to disbelieve me that you would fail to listen to evidence?”

  “Not at all, my Lord, I am only pointing out that your evidence may not be as solid as you would like me to believe. What other evidence have you?”

  “Of evidence, I have none, save the witnesses here and in Nottingham. Had I known I would have need of it, I would have stopped by the chapel in Nottingham so you could have the word of their priest that I was there. Perhaps you would more readily believe the testimony of a man of the cloth?”

  “You’ve stopped bringing food to the village,” she blurted out.

  “What of it?” he demanded.

  “Why? Are you punishing the villagers because you are angry with me?”

  “I have been beside myself with grief!” he shouted, his voice thundering, reverberating through the chapel. Spittle clung to the corners of his lips. “So you’ll excuse me if, in my darkest hour, I managed to forget something!”

  “I... I apologize, my Lord,” she said, cowering behind her hair.

  Contrition tightened his face. “Forgive me, Marian. I did not mean to frighten you.” His fingers reached toward her, but he quickly thought better of it and withdrew them.

  “You did not,” she lied.

  “Marian... I...” she swallowed hard. “I wanted to apologize... for that evening at your home. I was distraught... out of sorts. I treated you horribly, and for that I am truly sorry.”

  “You behaved incorrigibly.”

  “I did. And I accept full responsibility for my actions. I beg of you to allow me to make it up to you—replace what I destroyed. All of it.”

  “My world is lost, my Lord. I’ve no need of possessions. But if you would truly like to make it up to me...”

  “Yes? Marian... anything.”

  “Feed the villagers. They are starving, my Lord. The winter is harsh; they’ve no money. They will die without aid.”

  “It is not my responsibility to save the lazy,” he said icily.

  “Lazy?” Marian snapped. “You call a farmer who toils from sunup to sundown while you sit with your boots propped on your desk and servants wait on your hand and foot—lazy? You call a woman whose workday ends long after many have gone to bed—lazy? If so, you are an arrogant fool!”

  “Lazy is the man who cannot provide for his family,” Gisborne snarled. “Our land is rich with bounty for any man willing to work for it. The soil is dark and fertile. The forest is overflowing with wildlife...”

  “Wildlife your laws will not allow them to hunt!” Marian shouted.

  “They are not... my... laws...” Gisborne growled.

  “But you will do nothing to
get Blackstock to repeal them.”

  “Why should I? The whole village has already condemned me a murderer! You’ve condemned me a murderer!”

  “I came to hear you out.”

  “You did no such thing! You came to ease your conscience. You came to pretend to listen so you can go home and say you’ve been fair and just. But you don’t care to hear anything I have to say. Your mind is made up already!”

  “What did you expect? You fly into a rage, destroy my home, and then somehow believe I am not to be upset?”

  “I never said you could not be upset. I am upset with myself. I detest myself thoroughly and I have been punishing myself internally since it happened. But you believe I also murdered your father, and no evidence will assuage you.”

  “You’ve presented no admissible evidence, my Lord.”

  “I’ve submitted evidence that would stand in a court of law! Witness testimony... multiple alibis. Yet you will hear nothing of it. Why? Because your mind is set. You’ve found me guilty, because it sets you free to go to him!”

  “That’s not true!” she screamed.

  “Then how do you explain your refusal to accept evidence that could prove my innocence?” he demanded.

  She gulped and said, “You have presented no evidence I find acceptable.”

  “Of course not,” he muttered, sliding the back of his sleeve against his wet lips and turning away from her. “Because you’ve already given your heart to him.”

  “Robin has nothing to do with this.”

  “Hood has everything to do with this!” he shouted, shaking his fists. “Because of him, I’ve lost everything! I’ve done nothing... nothing! And yet he so easily waltzes in and steals your heart away.” Gisborne turned his head over his shoulder. “But it was never mine to begin with, was it?”

  “I’ll not give my heart to a monster!” Marian shouted with willful defiance.

  “You already have!” Gisborne shouted back at her, his voice breaking “Why is it you can accept that mongrel, and yet you cower away from me as though I’m the monster?”

  Gisborne spat upon the floor, his eyes flashing, his chest heaving with each ragged breath. His fists were clenched at his sides as though clutching at the throat of some unseen enemy, blanching his knuckles white.

  Marian’s lip quivered, betraying her stolid expression. Her arms were crossed defiantly in front of her.

  “Robin is a kind soul, a gentleman,” Marian snarled. “You’re not fit to lick his boots!”

  The muscles in Gisborne’s jaw clenched and unclenched repeatedly, and his fingers curled and uncurled. His nostrils flared, and sweat dripped in rivulets down his face.

  “That... dog... is pure filth,” he growled. “He’s a mongrel and a thief; he belongs in prison... or a grave!”

  “At least he has within his heart the capacity for compassion, for understanding, for love!”

  Gisborne froze. His expression softened, and his hands unclenched. He dropped to his knees upon the solid floor.

  “Marian,” he whispered, shaking his head weakly. “Is that what you think? You think that I am a monster with no feelings? You think I cannot love?”

  “I believe what I see, Lord Gisborne,” she spat contemptuously.

  “Then see this,” he snarled, unsheathing his dagger and thrusting it into his chest with a sickening slurp. He grunted, clenching his teeth together. “This! This is what you do to me with your words!” He twisted the dagger sharply, groaning as the dagger dug into his flesh. “This is what I feel when you turn to him! But this is not half as painful as what you do to me by giving your heart to him when it is I who loves you!”

  Marian’s lips were parted slightly. The deep furrows in her forehead smoothed, and her eyes began to glisten. She watched blood seep from the wound and drip down his leather tunic, sliding onto the floor and pooling below him. His hand gripped the dagger tightly, keeping it lodged firmly within his chest.

  She sank to her knees beside him, wrapping her hands around his. She looked up at him, and the pain in his eyes was immeasurable. It was so intense it was almost palpable.

  “Lord Gis... Guy... don’t do this,” she said softly. “Please. I see that I have wounded you deeply. There is no need to continue to torture yourself this way.”

  He loosened his grip on the dagger, and she began to slowly pull it from the seething wound. The bloody blade glinted in the flickering torchlight as she dropped it to the floor with a clank beside them, and her hand pushed against the wound.

  “Marian,” he whispered, his voice breaking under the weight of his pain. His body slumped weakly to the ground, his eyes blank and empty.

  “Guy?” she murmured. She shook his shoulder. “Guy? Guy!”

  She shook him again, and he lay there as still as a stone. Blood continued to seep from the wound, spreading out from his body.

  “Somebody help! Help!” she screamed, her voice shrill and piercing the silence like the dagger that wounded him.

  Moments later, a guard pushed through the chapel door.

  “Get the physician, now!” Marian ordered him.

  The guard nearly tripped as he sped away from the chapel. Marian, tears streaking her cheeks, held her hand firmly against the wound. She lowered her head, placing her forehead against Gisborne’s cheek. A sob caught in her throat, nearly choking her.

  “Please, Guy,” she croaked. “Hold on!”

  With her free hand, she brushed his dark hair away from his face. His vacant eyes were unblinking, hollow. She stroked his hair gently, and she pressed her lips gently against his cheek.

  “Guy... I’m sorry,” she wailed, her voice barely above a whisper. “Heavenly Father,” she whispered, her eyes clenched tightly. “I will do anything if only you’ll let him live. Anything. Please, oh, Holy Father. Mother Mary, I beg you. Spare him. Please bring him back to me. Please.”

  Her voice broke off into choking sobs. She gathered him in her arms and rocked him back and forth through those painful moments as she waited for the physician to appear. Her fingers pushed into the wound, covering her fingers with blood as she attempted to stem the flow.

  “What happened?” the physician asked as he rolled up his sleeves upon entering the chapel.

  “Please, there’s no time to explain now. Can you help him?” Marian begged, tears spilling down her pale cheeks.

  “Perhaps,” the physician said. “He’s lost a lot of blood.”

  “Yes, but he’s...” Marian started to say something, but she noticed the guard standing nearby. “Can you excuse us, please?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” he answered, and he departed immediately.

  “You do understand that Lord Gisborne is... different...” Marian said to the physician.

  “I’ve been a physician here for fifteen years,” he answered. “I know a thing or two about Lord Gisborne, yes.”

  “I thought his kind were supposed to be...” Marian began.

  “Immortal?” the physician asked, and she nodded. “Typically they are, but their hearts are rather fragile, and an immense blood loss can be fatal if the heart is damaged.”

  Marian’s heart jumped into her throat, and she could hardly breathe.

  “Is there anything we can do?” Marian asked.

  “He needs blood,” the physician said. “It’s the only thing that might save him, now.”

  “Give me something,” she snapped. “Quickly!”

  The physician was frozen, unable to speak.

  Marian’s eyes fell upon the bloody dagger on the floor at her side. She snatched it up and she sliced it across her wrist, the physician gasping. She held her gushing wrist to Gisborne’s mouth, the blood dripping onto his tongue.

  More and more of her blood rushed down his lifeless throat. The physician twitched, anxious to seal her wound and stop the bleeding as quickly as possible. The longer she watched her blood vanishing down his throat, the weaker she grew. She began to shiver, and the color was slowly draining from her skin.
<
br />   Then he twitched. Gisborne twitched faintly. He stirred. Then he grabbed Marian’s arm and pulled it mindlessly to his mouth. She gasped, and he began to drink from her, aggressively sucking.

  “My Lord,” the physician said, touching Gisborne’s arm. “Lord Gisborne, stop! You’re killing her!”

  Gisborne continued to suckle from her wound. He gulped greedily, as though his hunger could not be satiated.