Lady Thief: A Scarlet Novel Part 10

"He's not really," said Much. "But I'm trying to figure some sort of arm band to make his aim better."

"Why won't you just stand in for him?" John asked. "You'll be in a coat and scarf and such anyway. We could make you pa.s.s. Dammit, Rob, it's the simplest plan."

"No, it isn't," Rob said quiet. "We all know what's happening to me and I can't be counted on for much. Besides, if they catch me, he's disqualified entirely. And I'll be killed."

I threaded his fingers through mine and squeezed. It weren't like I would ever let that pa.s.s.

"I'll see what I can pick up about the others," I said.

"Gisbourne's a good shot," John said. "We know that."

I nodded. "I think that's why Prince John chose this. Gisbourne claims it were promised to him, and I think the prince is just making a show and giving it to Gisbourne anyway."

"All we've got is Th.o.r.esby," John said with a sigh. "I don't think it will be enough."

Gripping Rob tight, I stepped forward. "It has to be enough. Our people have gone through h.e.l.l and more under the last sheriff. If Gisbourne is sheriff we won't never be free."

"We've gone through h.e.l.l," John growled. "And we have nothing to show for it. I'm beyond weary of all of this."

"We're close, John," I told him. "Things will be different with Th.o.r.esby."

"Things are never different," he said, and stared at the fire.

"You lot go to sleep," Rob said. "Scar, are you going back tonight?"

My pipes ran thick, and I swallowed. I had to, didn't I? "Yes," I said soft.

"I'll walk you back."

He let go of my hand for a moment to pull on a cape and boots, and even that small bit of him I wanted back. It returned swift, and his fingers pressed into mine, gloveless and warm.

He tugged a slight bit and I followed him.

"Bye, Scar," Much said.

"I'll be up at the castle for the tournament tomorrow, Scar," John said. "I'll look in on you."

I wanted to snap that I weren't a baby or some small thing that needed looking after, but it weren't the truth. I missed the band. I missed feeling safe and looked after. I nodded at John and left, tucking Rob's arm closer to me.

We stepped into the cold dark and it felt sweeter with him beside me, like instead of dying the world had made s.p.a.ce for the two of us. Going to the yard I took the reins of the horse, pulling him along with us as we walked.

"What happened tonight, Scarlet?" Rob asked me.

I turned my face into his shoulder against the thought. "Not worth thinking on, Rob. Are you still not sleeping?"

"I've slept a little," he said. "Never for very long at a time. The monks said that might help."

"And it has?"

He nodded. "The nightmares start and I wake up. I don't slip into them."

"But they're still there."

"They've always been there, Scar. I cheated them for as long as I could."

"I had nightmares when I were younger, when my sister died. They went away after a time." After I met you, I knew with a start. I hadn't put that together before. And now he had nightmares, and I couldn't put a balm on his mind the way he had mine.

His arms rubbed along me, warming me like fire. "I'm trying for you, Scar. I'm trying to find a way out of them." His voice were whisper soft and the night ate it up. "I keep thinking about that night, when I hurt you. How much worse it could have been. And if we evera"I mean, in the chance that we ever have a familya"" His voice stopped, and he were swallowing, over and over, like whatever were stuck wouldn't go down.

Family. That meant children, didn't it? Babies. It made shivers and gooseflesh run over my body. For so long I had never thought I were meant for that, but Rob a I could see our family clear as water. Strong sons with Rob's eyes and moppy little girls with my sister's gold hair. Rob with them all bundled up in his arms.

"Rob," I said soft. "You tried your d.a.m.nedest to kill me, but you didn't. You couldn't, and I wouldn't let you. So if this thing is always chasing you, I wouldn't never let you hurt a family. But you will fight this. Can't you tell me what you see, when you dream?"

He shuddered. "Tell me what happened tonight."

"You'll lose your temper," I told him soft.

"And if I tell you the nightmares," he said, pulling me close and tucking his head to mine, "you might lose your love for me."

"Never," I swore.

"It's always the Crusades," he whispered into my ear. Despite being so much like what Gisbourne had done earlier, this made my skin blush warm and my heart beat fast. "There was so much fighting, Scarlet. So much death. And so much of it I was responsible for. And when I dream, I'm fighting still."

I knew that weren't but a bit of it; he would never fear to lose my love over such a thing. I knew he fought. I knew he killed. But it were enough for now.

"Tell me what happened," he said, his lips brushing cold onto my cheek.

"I'm afraid of Gisbourne," I said, my voice twisted and small. "He threatened me, and it were pure awful, Rob. The court made their cruel words, and Gisbourne were more than bothered by it." I shook my head. "People have talked foul about me for so long, Rob, I bare notice it anymore. But he hates it. And he makes me pay for it."

"People who don't know you, Scar. Those that know you wouldn't ever speak badly of you."

"You don't think?" I whispered.

He drew my hand up, kissing my fingers. "No."

I held tight to his hand but pulled away a bit, tugging him to walk. "You didn't lose your temper," I noticed.

"Love," he said soft, his thumb running over the b.u.mps of my knuckles. "If I can keep my temper when you come to me and cry and I want to kill anyone that's ever wronged you, trust me, I can stay calm when you just need someone to tell about it." He pulled me closer again and kissed my temple, my cheek. "Besides," he said, "something tells me you're not explaining the worst of it."

"I just feel lost," I said. "In skirts and trying to talk a way that ain't natural. Trying to be something I'm nota"for him."

He pulled me to him, hands running 'neath the guard's cloak and over my sides, my hips. My body felt different in a dress, in the castle; my legs weren't for running, my arms weren't for climbing, my waist seemed important in a way it ain't never been. In the forest, my middle were the part of me that were most soft without muscle or bone, so it needed to be protected, covered, hidden. In the castle it were on display, but it still felt like a weak spot. Vulnerable, which weren't a thing I much liked.

But Rob's hands on my waist felt like a thrill, like it were close and hidden, a secret place for him to touch. I let the reins drop as he kissed me and my body sparked over with fire like dry kindling. I pushed him back a bit against a tree, my hand desperate to touch a single part of him.

My hand slipped under his cloak, under his tunic and his shirt to bunch them up a bit. My hand were cold as it went, but I pushed it flat over his heart and let the heavy beat push warm into my hand. That was what I wanted from him.

His hands overcame the little pins in my hair, and he ran his fingers through the long bits, through the short fluff in back, over and over again.

I had heard enough girlsa"most yapping about Johna"say that a kiss made them stupid, blind to the world with every sense fair gone. And true, I hadn't kissed enough to well compare, but Rob's kiss made every bit of me thrum with life, with hot and blood. It made me feel brighter and taller and in these dark days, it were like a magic draught to sh.o.r.e up my strength.

I left his lips to press a kiss by his heart. "I love you, Robin," I whispered to him.

His arms pulled tight round me, pressing me to him, forging us like metal. "Don't go," he whispered to me. "I can't do it, Scar, I can't send you back there to him. To more hurt."

Shivers ran over my spine. "I don't want to go," I told him. "But Rob, I want to marry you. And that's more than the rest."

"He'll never give us an annulment," Rob breathed. "We can't trust the likes of him."

"No," I told him, gripping him tighter. "We can't. But G.o.d knows I weren't meant for him, Rob, and we'll get this annulment somehow."

I nudged his face with my nose until he brought his mouth down to mine for another kiss like magic potion. I needed some unholy kind of strength and courage to walk away from him.

He broke it off with a heavy sighing. "I love you, Scarlet. Go on, now, before you steal my sanity too," he said.

"Too?" I questioned.

His grin by the moon were wicked and handsome. "Thief of my heart."

I tugged him close and kissed him once more. "Thinking better of walking me back?" I asked him soft, a little sad.

He sighed 'gainst my mouth. "You'll be faster on the horse, and honestly, I don't think I can watch you walk back into that castle."

"They just let me come and go. It's mad," I said, smiling.

His thumb ran over my cheek. "You're a n.o.blewoman. They can't keep you out. Or in."

I shrugged. "I were a n.o.blewoman before, they kept me out just fine."

He laughed. "Yes, you were very clear about that fact before."

Rob kissed me once more and helped me on the horsea"it weren't half as easy in skirtsa"and stood back 'gainst the tree as he spurred on the horse. I watched Rob as the horse trotted on, his white shirt bright in the moon and standing like a light in the trees.

Soon the forest covered him up, and I went back to Nottingham, alone.

Chapter Eleven.

The morning were bright and cold, fierce and harsh. The castle's deer park to the west had been cleared and made into tourney grounds. The field were clear of snow and tree bits, and horses were all round the grounds, stamping the hard earth and pluming white breath like smoke from their nostrils, their backs steaming with heat in the cold like they were ghost horses.

I were tucked in a great big chair plush with cushions, fur wrapped about me and servants with hot wine at the ready. And yet just across the grounds in fair shaky stands that weren't never cleared of snow there were the people of Nottinghamshire, shivering in their boots and bare coats.

How had I gotten to this side of the ground?

The knights went to their places, and I watched. Their phantom horses wheeled in the back part before the run. The flag dropped and the riders spurred forward. The horses stretched, their legs ma.s.sive and corded round with muscle and power, and the knight rode it, a chipmunk on the back of a dragon. But the knights did have their own kind of grace. It weren't much in the way of valor to play at fighting like it weren't something that the people at their sides had to do every day for their food and life, but the knights were a grand vision. Their armor were fitted in a way that made steel mock the way the body could move, but still, the shining plates twisted and moved together and made the knight a faceless thing, a warrior.

And when they crossed, their heavy lances looked not for each other, like a sword might, but for the blank open s.p.a.ce in front of a man's chest. That were the spot the lance longed to fill, a hard strike dead center. It were a strange game. In a knife fight, I worried first about what my opponent might do with their weapon, but it weren't so in a joust. It were as if you had to forget that the other might strike you; he became nothing more than a place to land your lance, and you had to trust that you would either strike first or your stance would hold you through a blow.

I liked that. You weren't never fighting an opponent. You were made to hit a target, and forget all else.

Sitting back, I thought I'd do fair well in a joust.

The crier, a silly little man that kept yelling t.i.tles and such, rapped his stick on the ground twice but didn't shout. I looked up and n.o.ble ladies ushered the queen mother to sit between myself and Isabel.

I stood double-quick and curtsied, though Isabel just gave a nod to the queen. The queen sat and her ladies tucked furs about her, and then with a wave of her white hand they left and found other seats.

Feeling foolish, I got back into my chair, pulling my legs up beneath me and my fur over me.

"How are the fights?" the queen mother asked.

"Dreadful," Isabel said. "I so wish during these times of war that England's n.o.ble sons would not so mock the practice of it. Why, it is as if they spit upon Richard's Holy Crusade." I saw her cast her eyes slight to the queen.

"Hm," the queen said. "My lady Leaford, what do you think of the practices of tournaments?"

"I think it's foolish and lovely," I said overquick. There were probably a better answer, but it weren't in my head.

"Oh?" she said. "Please explain."

"Fighting like this is beautiful, in a fashion," I said, slow now. "No one is hurt for true, and there is grace and power in it. The horses, the riders, I even like the armor."

"But you said foolish too."

I swallowed. Fool tongue. "Yes, my lady queen. These ain'ta"" I coughed hard, blood rushing my cheeks. "These aren't the men that would ever be called upon to fight. There is a war and they are not part of it. And the men that watch them, shivering from the far side, will fight and die as soon as King Richard has need of them. And yet they do not have the money to practice, and not the money to protect themselves from such fates."

She pulled her fur closer to her neck, and its hairs stood tall like the animal had its hackles up. "Such a difference is not just in the poor and wealthy, Lady Marian. It is strange as a mother to see one son play at war while the other wipes blood from his face each night. But I can see the beauty in a joust as well, and as a mother I wonder if this is what young men see when they dream of war. We women often don't see what the appeal is, but they crave it."

"You know yourself in a fight," I told her. "There's no lying about your skills. About what you can do. It's a good feeling."

"You can't feel if you're dead," Isabel said. "There's nothing good about fighting."

"Then you utterly mistake the role of women, Isabel. We fight for different things, but women are the most natural of fighters." The queen inclined her head to the princess. "Something I have liked about you from the first, Isabel, is that you have defiance and pride within you. That is a form of fight."

Isabel's cheeks went to blush but I weren't so sure she liked the compliment. "In my experience women don't get to fight for what they want," she said, her voice low and careful. "We don't understand war because we are not allowed to."

"You can always fight for what you want," I told her, overfierce, sitting forward. "Always. People try to take that from you no matter your station, but you can always fight."

She gave a snort. "If I were some peasant heathen I'm sure I could," she said.

"I ain't no peasant," I said hot.

"Just a heathen, then," she said, peering past the queen to smile tight at me. "How does Guy put up with you?"