Pauletta merely smiled in a manner that Marian found both interesting and annoying. “Our dear Alys doesn’t find the sheriff frightening at all. Have you managed to stoke the man’s fires yet, my dear?” Her deprecating laugh indicated that she believed she already knew the answer.
Alys forbore to respond, but Marian noticed that the girl’s fair skin tinged pink again.
But before the conversation could go any further, the man himself entered the hall. He strode quickly to the front where a duo of barons stood next to one of the great fireplaces. He barely glanced at the ladies.
Marian stood, stuffing a last bit of bread into her mouth and selecting an apple to munch on as well. Not only did she have news to report to Robin via the oak tree-a warning that the archery contest was likely a trap meant to draw him out-but she was also revolted by the way Pauletta’s catlike eyes had narrowed, homing in on Will as he walked across the room.
How could she not find the man as repulsive as she?
Although Marian did her best to avoid Will for the rest of the day, hoping to evade any invitation the prince might wish to extend to her, she knew she was fighting a losing battle. If the prince required her to attend his revelry anight, hiding from Will would make no difference. And despite the fact that she didn’t wish to be in Will’s company, she also knew that if she had to attend, she would much rather do so with his escort than without it. It was simply a question of the lesser of two evils.
Thus, when she came down to dinner and saw that the high table was empty yet again, her relief was short-lived. The ladies buzzed with gossip that John had spent the day holed up in his chambers with his companions preparing for the night’s festivities. And no sooner had she finished her meal and attempted to slip unnoticed back to her chamber than Will appeared as if from the shadows.
His face was as haggard as the previous night, but when he bowed and offered his arm, his countenance remained expressionless.
“What, no reprieve anight?” Marian asked, then, without thinking, added, “I trow, Will, you look as though you’ve not slept in days.”
“Ah, the lady’s tongue speaks ever the truth,” he said.
“Why have you not slept?” she persisted. “Have you been up all the night plotting ways to destroy the village? Or how to squeeze more from the villeins? I should not sleep either if I had those sins on my conscience.”
“I’ve those and more,” he said, his words flat like the slap of a hand. “The wicked find no ease, do they?”
He turned and tugged her with him, but not before she caught a glimpse of his eyes. And she saw something there that did not match his harsh words. Something that looked like anguish.
Then it was gone. Or mayhap it was a trick of the shadows, for she’d never before seen anything soften his gaze. At least, not since she’d arrived at Ludlow. There’d been times when they were younger that a less rigid Will might smile or relax over a jest. As she recalled, once when they’d come upon a nest of newborn hares in the field, he’d been almost reverent as they examined the tiny creatures.
But she’d seen nothing like that of late.
Marian remained silent as they walked the now-familiar route to the Court of Pleasure. It was not lost on her that Will hadn’t specifically indicated that they were attending something unusual this evening. Either he wished not to scare her, or he assumed that the ladies had gossiped about it enough that she knew.
But tonight, she thought, with what she expected would be more occupants in the chamber than usual, she might have the chance to search for letters or documents that would give credence to the rumors Queen Eleanor had sent her to investigate. And mayhap she’d find enough that the queen would release her from her task and allow her to return to her lands-at least until a husband was found for her.
By focusing on that purpose, Marian was able to quell the nervousness spiraling in her belly as they climbed the stairs to the third level.
After all, how terrible could the gathering be if the other ladies were invited as well?
But immediately upon their arrival, Marian learned the terrible answer to that question. The meaning of “living statues” became horribly clear to her the moment she entered the chamber.
Now, stripped of her clothing, she stood near a post of the massive bed as one of her arms was lifted, her fingers curled around the column above her head. The prince, his eyes gleaming wickedly, posed her himself, taking his time to arrange the angle of her arm just the way he wanted it. Surprisingly impersonal in his touch, he seemed to have aesthetics in mind as opposed to carnality . . . or mayhap the two were inextricably entwined.
