Colette Gale - Bound by Honor

But the golden arrow would be awarded in the center of the open field, given by Prince John to the winner. And there would be nowhere for Robin to run or hide when he came forward to receive it.

Will moved down past the stands, ignoring the heavy gaze from Pauletta as well as the curious one of Alys of Wentworth. He should thank the little blond woman for the chamomile draught, for it had helped him to sleep well for several hours yester-morrow . . . but he had avoided doing so, for he didn’t want a repeat of their last meeting. The hurt look in her eyes still haunted him, while her kiss did not.

The cloaked archer had stepped forward, still awkward . . . but when he nocked his arrow, he seemed to straighten fully. He was definitely tall enough to be Locksley, and the arrow flew true, slamming into the target just left of center.

Will nodded to himself and eased Cauchemar closer, the damp from the grass having long soaked the destrier’s hocks. The man-at-arms shot next, and missed the center of his target by the width of his own broad thumb. Next was the dark-haired man, who’d remained apart from the other two archers. Will saw that he wore a tunic that was too large for him, and it made him look bulkier from a distance. The real man beneath, Will realized, was too slender to be Locksley at any rate, and mayhap too short.

Having confirmed the identity of his target as the cloaked longbowman, Will watched the remainder of the proceedings idly. He himself was fairly skilled with the bow, and John had at first suggested that he compete as the king’s champion. If he won, then the prize would not have to be awarded, and John would have not only drawn Robin Hood from the forest but also kept his golden arrow. But Will had declined, explaining that he would prefer to be free to trap the outlaw, and so now he merely watched.

The dark-haired man’s arrow flew, arching gracefully across the field, and found its mark, true. It was the only arrow to hit the center of the target.

Will straightened and looked at him again more sharply. Nay, it could not be Locksley. The man was too slender. And not tall enough.

And then he moved, sidling away as the cloaked man stepped up for his second shot. Will froze as he caught a better glimpse of the dark-haired man’s profile.

By the saints, that was no man. That was Marian!

Will blinked and looked again. Was he mistaken?

Nay, indeed. He’d forgotten how enamored she’d been of the bow when he knew her at Mead’s Vale-although he could never have imagined she’d become so skilled as to compete thus with Locksley. But now that he suspected the true identity of the dark-haired “man,” he saw the confirmation in the way she moved, the way she raised her bow, and the fact that she was not tall enough. She stood on a bit of an incline that made her appear to be closer in height to her competitors. That explained why she’d stood at a distance for nearly the whole of the match.

He almost smiled at her cleverness, but caught himself in time. There was naught to smile about. She was here with Locksley-unless it had been a carefully planted lie that she’d gone to him in the wood-and it appeared one of them would win the golden arrow. If he’d thought Locksley was foolish before, now he was furious with him. How dare he bring her and flaunt their relationship in full view of the prince?

The prince, who had demanded to know where she was.

Tension rose within him, and Will realized his fingers had closed into tight fists. By the bloody cross, he did not need this to contend with. ’Twas bad enough trying to keep John from sniffing between Marian’s legs. Now he would seek to punish her for consorting with England’s most wanted outlaw. He could not even fathom what John would inflict upon her. And there would be naught he could do to stop him that would not involve treason.

The second round of arrows flew. Locksley’s hit his target squarely in the center and then the man-at-arms’s bolt lodged closer to the center than his last effort. Will watched as Marian stepped up to let her second arrow go, and he realized he was holding his breath.

He made himself release it, but watched the bolt whiz through the air. It lodged nearly atop the previous one, in the dead center of the target.

By the rood, not only was Marian in the final three; she was winning. Was that Locksley’s plan? Or did he mean only for her to be a distraction?

Will glanced at the outlaw, who seemed to be standing straighter now, and no longer affected an awkward stance. One might imagine that he was annoyed with his lover’s skill. That thought did make Will smile, although the humor faded almost immediately.

If Marian won, John would surely recognize her when he awarded her the golden arrow. Would she then escape, returning to the forest with Robin Hood? That would seal her fate in the eyes of the prince.

But surely she would not be foolish enough to reveal her relationship with Locksley. Will relaxed marginally. He must credit her for her intelligence. She wasn’t that much of a fool.

Marian sensed the moment Will recognized her, for from the corner of her eye she saw him tense completely, drawing himself even taller in his saddle. It appeared he was not terribly pleased with her ruse.

She was surprised he’d seen through her disguise. The large, soft cap that sat on her head covered her bright, bundled hair, and she had affixed black horsehair to its edges to create the appearance of black locks. A bit of dirt on her face to darken her skin, men’s clothing, and taking care not to lift her face too often or too far had helped keep her identity a secret.

Since he had recognized her, she hoped he wouldn’t do anything about it. Or, if he did, he would not do so until she was awarded the arrow.

But Will’s reaction was naught compared with that of Robin’s. Marian had to bite the inside of her lip to keep it from twitching at the annoyance that blasted from his stance. She was fairly certain that he had not yet recognized her, for she had taken care to remain at a distance from him, with her face averted. But whether he had or had not, ’twas clear that he did not enjoy meeting up with a longbowman-or woman-as skilled as he was.

Or more so.

Marian realized with a start that it was her turn for the last shot. She had purposely not looked at the other targets during this round, so she was not aware of how well she was doing against her competitors . . . but Robin’s demeanor suggested that someone, at least, was challenging him.

Stepping up to the archer’s position, she pulled one of Tesh’s arrows from her quiver. She’d warned Robin that the wood-worker from Mead’s Vale made the best, straightest, and fleetest of arrows in England, and she was about to prove yet again that she could hit her target with them.

The bolt felt familiar and steady, and she took her time, aiming through the misty air. The target sat at the tree line, with the dark forest looming behind it, its red painted circle already host to two of her bolts.

Will’s gaze bored into her back, right between her shoulders, but she couldn’t let that bother her. She pretended that the target was John’s raging red cock, then closed her eyes and let the arrow fly.

When she opened them, it was over and the crowd was cheering. Marian looked at her target and saw that her third shot had landed precisely where she intended it-in the center of the target. Her three arrows created a small triangle in the dead middle of the small circle. She glanced over at the other targets for the first time, but found that she didn’t need to-for Lord Beghely, the man who’d led the three judges, had turned toward her, congratulations in his expression.

Delight coursed through her. She’d won! As Lord Beghely approached, she looked over toward Robin and saw that he was staring at her with a shocked expression. Clearly he was only now recognizing her. Marian swallowed a giggle. She’d told him she wished to challenge him-and he’d belittled her chances. Now she’d won the match in full view of all. Although no one else would ever know it was Marian of Morlaix who earned the golden arrow, Robin would. And that was enough for her.

Before Marian could bask any longer in the knowledge that she’d bested Robin Hood, Will’s large black horse pranced into view. After a brief congratulations, Lord Beghely stepped back with the sheriff’s approach. Marian looked up into Will’s face and couldn’t help the twitch of a proud smile as their eyes met.

As usual, he bore only a staid expression-one that could be called forbidding, in this case. Could he not see the humor in the situation just this once? He knew Robin of Locksley as well as she did; he must know that the man’s pride would be bruised. Or perhaps that wasn’t what annoyed him. Maybe Robin’s humbling was nothing compared with what he saw as the outrage of a woman besting a man?

But how absurd! Marian thrust away her moment of glory and realized how foolish she was being. There had been one reason and one reason only for this archery contest-she was smart enough to realize it had been a trap for Robin Hood. And he had indeed attended, and now he was to be captured.

Unless her ruse would sufficiently distract and confuse people from being able to do so successfully.

Yet, before she could speak, the sheriff said, “So you have won the golden arrow. And what might we say is your name, when I present you to His Majesty the prince?” There was no mistaking the emphasis on those last words, and Marian felt a trickle of apprehension run down her spine. Will was telling her that she should continue with her charade and not reveal her true identity. Was there a chance that the prince wouldn’t recognize her? Only a slim one, she was certain.

“I am called Tesh of Thane’s Green,” she replied in a voice deeper than her normal one.

A sudden shout drew her attention, and she spun to see Robin Hood streaking toward the forest. A slew of arrows followed him, and dark shadows emerged from among the trees, converging on him.

“ ’ Tis Robin Hood! Capture him!” cried the prince.

Marian caught herself before she showed any reaction. Revealing her true identity or her allegiance to an outlaw would do no good to anyone and most certainly bring great harm to herself and Robin.

Will’s horse stamped and whuffed next to her as she watched the activity. She realized she had her fingernails curling sharply into her palms. The shadows at the forest’s edge were not clear, and she couldn’t see what was happening as Will and his mount leapt away, pounding toward the wood.

Robin. Please be safe!

Moments later, Will and three of his men rode triumphantly back into the field. Ahead of them, they pushed a figure that stumbled as the three men on horse and two on foot herded him forward. Ropes trailed from his body, causing him to trip and giving him little range of movement for his arms and legs.

The roar of the crowd seemed muted-or mayhap it was Marian who felt dull fear settle over her. They’d caught him at last. She moved closer to the stands, edging along so that she could be near enough to attract Robin’s eye. Let him know that she would do all she could to help him.

As she watched, Will and his men brought the man forward roughly, moving rapidly toward the stand where Prince John awaited them. He looked down, smoothing his sleek beard and mustache eagerly as the prisoner stumbled and fell in front of him.

As he drew nearer, Marian saw that Robin was wrapped up in some sort of netlike covering. It appeared he’d become entangled in it, trapped like a wild animal. The crowd roared and hissed as Will’s man pulled the prisoner to his feet. From where she stood in front of the spectator stands, she caught a glimpse of his face.