Colette Gale - Bound by Honor

He stood in front of her, and suddenly he was pulling at the ivy Robin had used to affix her wrists to the tree. His face was inscrutable, his cheeks hollow as if he was drawing them in tightly. But he was empty-handed. And Robin was gone.

He’d escaped once again.

Will said nothing as he pulled sharply at the bonds that kept her to the tree, and Marian did not know what to say. As the fog of pleasure slipped away, she began to realize what Robin had done, and how his actions had enabled him to flee yet again.

Leaving her in dishabille and tied to a tree had allowed him to escape at the last moment-just as Will approached-for the sheriff would not pursue him and leave Marian in such a state.

“I would ask if you were hurt,” Will said as the vines fell away, “but ’tis quite clear that is not the case.”

Marian swallowed and felt heat rise in her cheeks. His dark eyes glittered as his large hand rested on the tree next to her head. She could see it from the corner of her eye and realized how close he was standing to her. Her breath felt heavy and she found that she couldn’t find a safe place to look.

“Will,” was all she could say, and she knew it sounded woefully weak and breathy.

He turned away, pulling a horn from his belt. Putting it to his lips, he blew a long, low sound . . . once, then twice . . . then replaced the horn.

“To signal that I’ve found you, and that all is well.” His gaze raked over her again, dark and scornful. “If I’d known ’twas merely a lovers’ quarrel, I would not have pushed Cauchemar into a lather to get here.”

“I was set upon by bandits,” Marian told him coolly. “They would have torn me off my horse and taken me away if Robin had not come upon us.”

“Locksley’s men are indeed fearsome,” Will replied, his voice dry.

“Nay, they were no friends of Robin,” she said. “They were desperate and violent. Robin intervened, along with some of his real men, and they had a battle in which many were injured.”

“ ’ Twould not surprise me if Locksley arranged for such an ambush in order to show his outlaw heart in a new and sympathetic light.”

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.

“Then you must have the advantage of me,” Robin said, still smiling.

He glanced at his boon companion John Little, who for all his great size and burliness appeared to be more than a bit cowed by this slip of femininity. Despite her diminutive figure, she was most definitely a woman. A woman with breasts the size of the very large oranges Robin had eaten in Greece, a tiny begirdled waist, and rounded hips. And lush pink lips that, if they deigned to pout, would look like crinkled velvet petals . . . but at this moment were flattened into a line oozing with disgust.

“I demand that you release me, Robin Hood,” she said. “Your men had no right to bring me here.” She crossed her arms under those lovely breasts and, for a moment, Robin found himself distracted as they lifted, adjusted, and jiggled gently.

Then he realized that silence had fallen and all were waiting for him to respond. “But how did you come to be here?” he asked, allowing a sympathetic sparkle to come into his eyes.

“My horse threw a shoe,” she said. Of necessity, her mouth relaxed a bit. Her upper lip was more full and luscious than her lower lip, and right then, Robin knew where he wanted that lovely mouth to be. His cock, which had been raging since he left Marian tied to the tree, lifted yet again, boldly reminding him that it had been much too long since it had been somewhere dark and moist and tight.

Mayhap she would be friendlier if they were alone.

Robin looked at the three men who’d edged away from the woman as soon as their leader arrived: John Little, Allan-a-Dale, and a most uncomfortable-looking Friar Tuck, dressed in his robes. “Is there aught you can attend to below while my lady and I converse?”

They didn’t need to be asked twice, for John leapt out of his seat as quickly as his bulk allowed and tossed the rope ladder down without hesitation. “Aye,” he said, giving no excuse as he disappeared down the ladder, the ropes straining and creaking against the wooden floor.

“A brace of hares would make a nice stew this night,” Allan said, moving just as eagerly toward the opening. “Tuck, would you like to come along with me and carry my extra arrows?”

Moments later, Robin and the blond woman were left alone. She’d done nothing but stand there, arms crossed under her breasts, foot tapping on the floor beneath the overlong hem of her riding gown.

“I do hope you don’t intend to rape me now,” she said. Annoyance-not fear or even apprehension-blazed through every pore of her fine body.

Robin blinked and closed his mouth. Then opened it. “My lady, I should never resort to such an assault.” He smiled comfortingly at her.

“Clearly ’tis because you believe you would never have to. I vow, the size of your head is like to burst the walls of this house.”

He watched her, unable to take his eyes away from her rich honey-colored hair, and the lift of her dainty chin. Let alone able to formulate a response to such a statement. No wonder John Little and the others had fled. He wondered how long they’d been cooped up in here with her.

She turned away and paced across the room, the only sound that of her fine wool bliaud catching on the rough floor and a faint whistle through the trees. He watched the smooth curve of her bottom as it swayed enticingly with each step. Robin felt the urge to clear his throat, for it had suddenly become very dry.

“If you believe that I am one of those foolish ladies who cannot resist the lure of an outlaw, you are dangerously mistaken. I will not be swooning at the prospect of your kisses. I demand to be returned to Ludlow immediately.”

“I will return you, my lady. I vow it. But, if you please, will you not give me your name?”

“Lady Alys of Wentworth,” she said with a great sigh. “Now that your curiosity is assuaged, shall we go?”

“Alys,” he said, savoring the taste of it on his tongue. “A lovely name.”

The fascinating woman he itched to touch, to see if she was as soft and smelled as good as he suspected, gave an indelicate snort. “And the next I know, like every other man, you’ll be waxing rhapsodic over my sea blue eyes, and the velvet of my crushed-petal lips, and my long flowing tresses of golden hair.”

Robin closed his mouth again. Damn.

She made a sharp gesture of dismissal at him. “Do you think I have not heard it all before, O Robin Hood? Do you think I do not know how tongue-tied and cow-eyed men turn when they are near me? ’Tis a curse,” she said, pacing the room in earnest now. “ ’ Tisn’t enough that I must deal with the frog-eyed barons or high-reaching knights greedy not only for my lands but for my person-but now I must be whisked away to a treetop hideaway and suffer the courtship of an outlaw.”