Marian opened her mouth to retort, but found that she needed to close it. For had she not also suspected the same? “So you do recognize him,” she said instead.
“Aye, how could I not? Locksley has not changed a whit from the rash boy I knew at Mead’s Vale. A skilled longbowman, aye, and a pillow-hearted fool. But also a man with a very large opinion of himself who believes he needn’t pay for his actions.”
“But he is a hero in the eyes of the simple people,” she said, taking a pleading step toward Will. “The villagers are bled dry by this war, and the greed of-” She stopped herself, aware of the accusation she was about to make to a confidant of the accused. “They lose their houses and lands-they haven’t the resources to pay the taxes demanded of them. I saw them today, how they duck and hide. . . .” Her voice trailed off again.
“When I approach,” Will finished flatly. “Aye, ’tis true. But you forget, Lady Marian, that I am bound by duty to King Richard to collect those funds, and to see that justice is served in this shire. If that includes fitting a rope necklet about your lover’s throat, then so be it.” He stepped closer to her. “But may I suggest that you have a care for yourself? For if the prince learns that you are . . . close . . . to Robin Hood, I cannot guarantee your safety.”
Marian stepped back and felt the tree behind her again. “You cannot guarantee my safety anyway,” she returned, conscious that her heart was pounding crazily. He was so large, and dark and tall, and his expression was so forbidding. Yet, she felt herself gather up inside, taut and keenly aware of the man before her. The man who claimed I am no saint. “And if tales are carried to the prince of my friendship with Robin,” she continued, though her mouth had dried, “I will know from whom they’ve come.”
When she stepped back, he did not follow but stood unmoving, looking down at her. “John is watching you . . . and us . . . very closely, Marian. You seem to be unable to comprehend his determination to have whatever he wishes. And he is very interested in having you.”
Her stomach pitched at his stark words, and she could find nothing to say. There was naught in Will’s face or demeanor that suggested softness, or worry.
“Now,” he said, turning away, “I will return you to the hunt. Then I’ll lead a party into the wood to flush out this band of desperate outlaws who attacked you.” He glanced back at her as he approached his monster of a horse. “If indeed they do exist.”
CHAPTER 6
R obin smelled Marian’s musky scent when he raised his fingers to his mouth to make a grackle’s call, announcing his arrival to the man on watch. He made the bird’s cry, then sniffed his fingers again and smiled. A lusty woman, and one who would not soon forget him.
The responding call of a slightly higher-pitched grackle indicated that it was safe for Robin to approach the treetop hideaway he and his men had built. Deep in Sherwood, aloft in a cluster of sky-brushing pine and oak trees, they’d constructed a generous building higher than any man would tend to look. And even if he did so, he’d see little but shadows, branches, and thick pine needles.
A rope ladder dropped down and he clambered up quickly. Someone was nearly always left on guard in the tree house, but in the event that everyone had been called away, the rope ladder was left up inside the hideaway and the first arrival climbed up using the less direct route of branch to branch, tree to tree.
“What ho,” Robin said as his head rose above the floor of the building. “Any news?” He glanced briefly around and saw that three of his men sat or crouched about the room . . . and then he saw her.
“Aye, now.” Robin smiled and climbed the rest of the way into the room, pulling up the ladder automatically behind him. “And who might this be?”
At first he didn’t recognize her, for she’d been sitting in the shadows . . . but at his greeting, she stood and moved into the dappled light that filtered through the leafy trees above and around them. “Release me at once,” she demanded.
It was the woman he’d noticed last eve, in the great hall. The girlish one with the pretty heart-shaped face whose name he didn’t know. She was also the one who’d been riding alongside Marian and Joanna today during the hunt. He’d heard just that part of their conversation as he watched their approach from high in the trees, hoping to catch Marian alone.
As he recalled, this woman had called him foolish, with great disdain dripping from her voice. She’d been jealous, for she was the only one of the ladies who hadn’t had the pleasure of a visit from the outlaw.
Robin could easily rectify that.
“My lady,” he said with a flourishing bow. “You are welcome to our little hideaway in the trees. May I introduce myself?”
“I am well aware of your identity,” the woman replied. She was standing straight and as tall as her petite figure would allow-which was not so very tall at all. Mayhap she would reach to his shoulder. If she stood on her toes.
