But he no longer wished to wait. The soft cry she’d made when Nottingham slammed himself into her could easily be imagined as one of pained passion-one of John’s specialties. Her wild struggles against the large, fully clothed man who strained over her John found arousing and delightful. Who did not want a woman who knew better than to lie there like a dead fish? He had a wife who did that. She could have been a statue made from ice-white porcelain for all she responded to his caresses. The most beautiful of women, true, with long, perfect golden ringlets of her own . . . but Isobell was stone in comparison with Marian’s lush heat.
And yet Marian was, at the moment, unavailable to him.
John didn’t like to admit it, even to himself, but he knew better than to breach his agreement, such as it were, with Nottingham. The man knew too much about him, too many secrets, too much of his cunning plans to ally with Philip Augustus of France and to split Richard’s kingdom between them. Aye, ’twas true that Nottingham was nearly as deep into the plot as John himself, collecting funds and making allies here at Ludlow, even strategizing with him in between bouts of pleasure taking.
But most important, John knew that without William de Wendeval his plans to displace Richard would never be realized. For no traveler through the forest, from any direction to Ludlow, could reach the keep without the Sheriff of Nottinghamshire knowing who he was and from whence he came.
Thus John received no surprises, no messages that he did not wish to receive-for those messengers, oddly enough, often did not make it to the keep. Or if they did, it was after a delay . . . and mayhap even to their physical detriment.
The outlaws were blamed, of course, but it was Nottingham and his control over the area that allowed for that selection. Aye, Robin of the Hood thought that he had full reign over the forest, but some of that freedom was at the pleasure of the sheriff. For if there were no outlaws, they could not be blamed for the ransoming or capturing of the messengers John wished to avoid or otherwise prepare for.
John’s real complaint over Robin Hood was that he stole his money, and those funds collected for taxes, not that he roamed the wood and frightened the travelers. The vassals would pay their fines whether they were robbed or not. John cared little for their hardship.
Thus he did not intend to offend the loyalty of Nottingham, who played such a vital role in this plot. For now, John had no choice but to make his way with care.
And Nottingham had never made any request of him before this. He had a personal grudge against the woman, and John could understand his need to put her in her place.
Nor was he the sort of man to look away, or to accept John’s reasons-whatever ones he might manufacture-for the breach of the agreement. De Wendeval was that rare breed of man who could be convinced to change his loyalty, yet maintain a strong sense of honor to that misplaced loyalty. And he expected it in return.
Thus, ’twas most unfortunate, but John could not afford to insult Nottingham, especially over a woman.
Even a woman such as Marian.
Yet . . . John could not concentrate on the conversation he meant to have with Lord Tenselton, who sat to his left, when he was aware that the man to his right had had the delights he himself so lusted after. And had not even partaken of them as deeply or devoutly as John would.
Thus, during the meal, while Nottingham ate sparingly and spoke even less, the Angevin’s mind wormed about, seeking a way to have what he wanted . . . but without offending the valuable, and dangerous, man next to him.
Aye, the man’s loyalty was worth more than the riding of a woman, but John intended to find a way to have both.
“She does not seem the worse for her experience this Nones,” John commented to Will idly. His eyes fastened on the lady in question, who seemed to be finding that brickhead Lord Burle quite fascinating.
Nottingham drank from his goblet, then settled it precisely on the trestle in front of them. “To the contrary,” he replied. “The lady wishes nothing more than to retire to her chamber after the meal. She claims, to anyone who will listen, of an ache in the head.” He gave a knowing rumble of laughter and drank again.
John chuckled along with him, suddenly full of good humor. His tactic had become clear, and he cast a sharp eye on the amount of wine the man next to him was drinking, with the intent of increasing it generously. “An ache in the head? I should have expected one elsewhere.”
Nottingham settled his goblet once again. “Aye, and mayhap elsewhere as well. I thought to give her a chance to contemplate her . . . options . . . this night. Mayhap after taking her ease, she will be more interested in the lessoning I mean to give her.”
