Colette Gale - Bound by Honor

“But even if you do not attend that, at the least you will be pleased to hear about the archery contest. The prize for that is a gold arrow, and ’tis certain that Robin Hood himself will make an attempt to win,” Joanna said in a placating tone. “We shall be able to see the great archer and how he handles his arrow.”

Pauletta and Catherine tittered along with Joanna, looking at Marian over hands covering their mouths.

“My, such a great bit of news this morning,” Marian replied. “What sort of gathering is the prince hosting?”

Pauletta’s feline smile widened. “ ’ Tis a very special night. I have attended in the past, for my lord has given such parties before. He calls it his night of living statues. There is a contest, and he is most generous to the winners.”

Now Marian understood the prickles at the back of her neck. Of certain, anything related to the prince would make her uneasy. But a night of living statues? Yet, mayhap her trepidation was misplaced. After all, Pauletta and Joanna seemed delighted at the prospect.

But then again . . . Pauletta’s smile had a wicked twist to it that reminded her of John’s depraved one.

Marian shrugged and took a piece of bread, examining it for weevils before breaking off a bite. “I do not know if I have been invited,” she replied honestly.

Rest well, my lady, for you will need all your strength on the morrow.

Had that been a warning? Or her invitation? Or both?

“ ’ Twill serve that fool Robin Hood well if he comes to the archery contest,” spoke up Alys suddenly. “He will be well and truly captured if he is so bold-and rightly so.”

“You would not say such a thing if you had met the man,” Joanna said, a dreamy look in her eyes.

“Indeed, you are mistaken, for I have met the arrogant ass.” The ladies all gaped at Alys, not only because her statement was so unexpected . . . but because her tone held such unusual bitterness.

“Did he not kiss you, then?” Joanna asked, a sly look coming into her eyes. “I trow if he had, you would not wish him ill. The man has a fine, sweet mouth.”

Alys merely looked at the other lady and replied, “He would not dare to do so. I find him arrogant and misguided. And I hope that he is caught by the sheriff and imprisoned for his crimes.”

Marian noted that Alys was not bloodthirsty enough to wish for Robin to be hung, and found that a bit interesting when coupled with the fact that Robin had obviously met her . . . but had not recalled her name. Or so he said.

She also noted the wash of pink over the fair-skinned girl’s cheeks.

“You had best hope that the sheriff does not capture him,” Pauletta said, her eyes slanted wickedly, “for he’ll do more than imprison the man. He’s as lief to tear him limb from limb with his bare hands as string him up with a black hood. I pray that he’ll attend the gathering tonight, for he’s one who fascinates me. So dark, so angry . . . I should love to be the woman who brings him to his knees.”

Catherine sniffed. “Not I. Every time I look at him, I vow, my blood runs cold.”

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.

No sooner was she arranged thus at the post than the prince beckoned the woman Marian recognized as Glynna over to them. Glynna, the woman with the whip marks on her belly, was just as naked as Marian. And so were all the other women in the chamber, including Catherine, Pauletta, and Joanna, as well as others Marian had not seen before.

To her mortification, Marian was commanded to remain frozen. The prince arranged Glynna in such a manner that the other woman’s hand cupped Marian’s quim, curving over her mound to slide fingers between Marian’s parted legs. Then he brought Glynna forward so that her warm, wet mouth covered one of Marian’s breasts, centered over her nipple. Marian could hardly breathe and she felt her whole body flush with warmth and awareness. Her nipple hardened beneath the moist lips, and her little pip began to swell at the very brush of pressure.

Then, still impersonal and concentrated, John took Marian’s free hand and settled it in a similar position between Glynna’s legs. Marian gasped and would have jerked her hand away, but he tightened his fingers around her wrist.

“Tsk, tsk, my lady,” he said, leering close to her so that she could smell the vast amount of wine on his breath. “You mustn’t move. You are a living statue.”

And then he carefully arranged one finger so that it slipped between the warm, wet folds of the other woman’s quim, and the others so that they spread over the springy hair of Glynna’s mound. Satisfied, he stepped back to admire his handiwork.

But he wasn’t finished. “Your hair,” he muttered. And then he began to systematically, and none too gently, pull it loose from her braids so that it fell down her back in a long swath. Then he took one wrist-thick lock and arranged it over the breast that was not covered by Glynna’s mouth, draping the bottom part of it over the maidservant’s shoulder.

He stepped back and surveyed his work, then stroked his beard and nodded. “Lovely,” he said, then turned to look about the chamber with satisfaction. “All of you are quite the most beautiful sight I’ve had the pleasure of seeing.”

The other ladies and maidservants had already been arranged in similarly provocative positions throughout the room. They were indeed a garden of living statues.

“Be warned, the first one of you to move, to do other than to blink your eyes or change your breathing, will be punished.” He gestured to an odd-looking item that looked like half a large barrel, rounded side up, in the center of the room. Empty manacles settled at the base of the curve. “But those of you who remain like the statues you are shall be generously rewarded.”

He moved out of Marian’s eyesight for a moment, and she became aware of a low murmur of male voices. She dared not turn her head to look to the other end of the chamber, but she knew that Will was there, along with John’s other companions. Instead, she remained unable to think of little more than the pressure at her breast and the hand at her mound.

Moments later, the prince came back into view, and he was carrying something. When he spread his hands, standing in front of her, she saw that it was a heavy necklet of square gold links, such as a man might wear. In the center of the five largest links garnets the size of walnuts had been inset. He lifted the necklet and placed it around her shoulders, over her loose hair, and settled the garnets just below her throat. Heavy and cold, the jewels seemed to imprint themselves into her bare shoulders and chest.

“Such will be your reward if you are the last to move,” he said, his hands lingering on her hair. “I considered topazes, but the garnets look magnificent with your hair.” He leaned closer, brushing his lips over hers. “I vow, I cannot decide if I wish for you to win, or to lose, Lady Marian.”