Several fairies still gripped the forester, but they ceased their tortures. The wrench of agony faded from the lad's face. Robin balled his fists at his side and fought that compulsion he'd known when he'd rescued the lad previously. To pull this man close, offer comfort, and feel the press of firm male flesh against his.
He let the Elfaene take charge.
"He tried to cut my throat," wailed the freckled fairy.
The boy looked fretfully between the queen and Robin, his terror obvious. "I…I didn't. I could have, but I just wanted to get away. And I'm no loyal forester, believe me."
The Elfaene sneered. "What are you, then?"
"I… I…"
She slapped his face, and he rewarded her with a jaded cringe that reminded Robin of his swift and weary recovery the night before. "Why do you wear a forester's livery and deny being one of them?"
"I… I… Oh God. That hurts."
Robin guessed the freckled fairy behind the boy had renewed her torment. His temper snapping, he lunged forward and hauled her off. "Let him speak."
He sank to his knees, looping his arms about the forester, who sagged against him. Despite his delicate colouring, there was nothing soft about this man. Hard sinew stretched taut over his slim body, not an ounce of fat on him, every muscle wound tight. His warm blood seeped through thick fabrics to Robin's breast. Robin's fury couldn't swamp the pang their intimacy stirred. The forester's hair smelled good, the musk of horses and the road tempered by the sweetness of wood smoke.
Robin steeled himself. "We were supposed to rob. Not take hostages."
The Elfaene lifted a land, keeping her charges at bay. "We have one all the same. Do you wish to take him for yourself, outlaw? After all, you have rushed to this man's aid twice."
"Twice?" The forester looked up.
Loosening his embrace, Robin avoided the lad's questioning gaze. "I have no interest other than he should be shown the same mercies as the rest."
"Hmmm." The Elfaene raised herself onto tiptoes in order to sneer down at the drooping forester. "What do you know of these new forest laws?"
"Only that a charter of the forest is to be drawn up," he replied. "I am little more than a servant, a lowly follower."
The Elfaene drummed her fingers against her lower lip. "If you have no information to give us, you must at least gift our outlaw friend some taxes for the poor."
The lad shuddered. "I have nothing to give."
"We can strip his clothes from him," suggested one of the daughters.
"You've not left much to barter." Robin snorted at the torn, blood-soaked livery, still avoiding the man's eye. The captive had little enough flesh to cover him. If they didn't give back his cloak, he'd freeze when nightfall came. "We can't. It would be a death sentence."
"He's got a ring," said the freckle-faced fairy. "I was trying to get it off just now, but it seems to be wedged. We could sever his finger and take that?"
"No!" Robin and the forester shouted as one. The lad balled the hand of his uninjured arm tight but failed to conceal the metal cutting across one of his digits. Though a plain bronze band, its worth would feed a family through the winter months. The Elfaene closed in, craning to see.
Gently but firmly, Robin took the man's wrist. "Surely you can remove this trinket?"
The forester dropped his voice to a hiss. "It's impossible. Please, you've got to help. They'll kill me."
"I'll see there is no killing, but you must pay." Robin forced his thumb across the forester's palm, spreading thin, grimy fingers to reveal the ring had an insignia. A crudely etched image showed a woman on horseback with flowing hair. The Elfaene twitched her nose like a cat on a fish stall. While the lad strained to close his fist, Robin kept it wide. "Don't fight me. With grease, it won't be hard to slip this off, and—"
His words were drowned by a high-pitched wailing, originating from the Elfaene's preternaturally powerful lungs.
"What the hell?"
The Elfaene's daughters fled for the bushes, falling onto hands that curled into little pink paws and then scuttling like frightened mice. Robin finally met the forester's gaze. Those bright blue eyes struck to his soul, rekindling his yearnings even as suspicion stole through him. Was this wretch the Elfaene's returned protector?
After an agonizing minute of screaming, the Elfaene calmed enough to speak.
"Your name?" she demanded of the forester.
The lad swallowed hard. "Cal."
"There must be more than that. You bear the ring of Queen Aethelbalda, of the bloodline of the protectors of the Greenwood. Did your mother's people have a name?"
"H-her father's name was Brien. I don't even know where the ring came from. She… she hailed from these parts but spoke little of her folk."
"The woman was a traitor indeed," said the Elfaene. "My hope fades for the son—and for the Greenwood."
Robin groaned on Cal's behalf. Last night he'd heard the fairies both sing the returning protector's praises and swear to tear him limb from limb if they found him to be faederswica, a traitor.
"What have you to say for yourself?" The Elfaene snorted like an angered mare.
"I… I…"
"Speak, or I'll rip out your tongue."
"I never wanted to be a forester. It wasn't my choice to leave my Greenwood home, nor was it my mother's. She did all she could to defend our lands from seizure—she even married a Norman. But my father chose a life crusading with King Richard, and our estate was confiscated all the same. Mother fled to court to beg for our lands back. Nothing was done, though it's not like the king's men hunt here anyway."
His words now flowed with ease. Cal had a point about the final matter. Since William the Conqueror's heir, Rufus, had been mysteriously slaughtered within the bounds of the Greenwood, the Normans had sent in foresters to punish the locals but daren't penetrate the woodlands too deeply.
"I love this place," concluded Cal. Robin glared. If anything, Cal sounded too sincere. "It's in my blood."
"Something's in your blood, alright," snapped the Elfaene. "I suspect it is foul, not fair. Did your mother teach you of the responsibilities she eschewed?"
He shook his head.
"Your family defended the borders of the Greenwood since before any invader set foot, from east, south, or north. She deserted the sacred duty of her lineage."
"She spoke of no such obligation." Cal puffed his lank, blond fringe from his eyes. "She told me that if I were to return, there may be folk who demanded answers from me, but honestly, whatever you ask, I'll do. If I'm bound to serve you, then I shall."
His declaration breathless, Cal thudded his right fist to his chest. The Elfaene looked unconvinced.
"You'd best stay with us till the spirits show me the truth of you." She nodded to her daughters. "Bind his hands behind him and lead him to the heortland."
Robin planted himself between the Elfaene and her captive. "It's his wound that needs binding, or the blood will blacken, and he may lose the limb."
The Elfaene laughed. "Robin Hood, you have a tender heart."
"Robin Hood?" Cal inhaled sharply.
"Truly, if you wish to fuck him," said the Elfaene, "I might gift him to you later if the spirits permit, but—"
"I want nothing of the sort."
"'Tis no matter. It is our custom to bind the wrists and cover the eyes of all who travel to our heortland—our friends, let alone our enemies. The same rule applies to you, Robin." She shrugged. "In the light of his injuries, maybe we could bind the two of you together. His good right hand to your left."
Robin frowned. He'd been held captive enough times to dislike being restrained in any way. However, he didn't want to give up the Elfaene's alliance just yet. And damn it, Cal looked up at him and licked a mouth shaped like a perfect yew bow. Robin's throat tightened. "Very well. If you must."
The Elfaene grinned. "You two will make a pretty brace of doves."
Robin's furious protest fell on deaf ears. She turned her back, and
two of her daughters set to work. The one with flowing ginger locks retrieved the pot of ointment, which she dabbed to Cal's wound with her fingertips, making him hiss. Robin avoided looking his way. The healer tied a bandage about Cal's shoulder, then pulled up his tunic and wrapped his cloak around him. Her sister proceeded to wind thick, woody bonds about Robin's wrist, then Cal's. The fairies fixed them with their hands flush back-to-back, then twisted the ends of the tethers till they held fast.
"Thank you," whispered Cal. Robin glanced down to the man at his side. "The gallant archer who saved me last night was Robin Hood?"
"Don't use that name. It means little to me anymore."
"Oh." Cal slid his tongue so it bulged in his cheek, and Robin fought a faint tightening in his groin. "I told the truth. I possess no great riches, but if you help me get out of here alive, I'll reward you in any way I can." Cal lowered those long, golden lashes, casting shadows across his sharp cheekbones. "Any way."
Anger steeled Robin. "I want nothing from you but information, and if you truly have none, I can think of no use for—" He broke off, curiosity getting the better of him. "About last night. Why did you try and rob that knight?"
"The villain tried to throttle me."
He hardened his tone. "You were searching for something. What?"
"Anything of value, really. It was idiotic, yes, but I was frightened and angry. As I told you, I'm very poor. Not worth much to anyone."
Robin shook his head. Cal wasn't stupid enough to rob the knight of jewels or money. He would have had to flee the company or face dire punishment. He was far from an innocent. Robin just couldn't figure out what he actually was—beyond a liar and probable traitor. What the hell had possessed him to protect this snake?
Cal offered him a blistering sidelong glance. Robin sneered, then looked away. The stench of rot rose from a carpet of the leaves that tumbled thick as snow. Cal's cool knuckles touched his. His skin tingled, and wildfire flared through him. Worse, his cock jerked.
Hell, if that was the reason he'd let himself be tethered to this man's side, he'd be better off alone again.
Chapter Five
Robin Hood. It's Robin Hood.
The fairy slid a black cloth over Cal's eyes, shielding him against any renewed scrutiny from the outlaw. It proved almost a relief.
The contemptuous look Robin Hood had shot him before turning away brought a flush of humiliation to his face while fire jousted with ice for ascendancy within. He still shook from his ordeal with the fairies, yet the bandage must have been drenched in medicinal balm, for the pain from his wound had subsided to a faint niggle.
Robin's closeness commanded his senses, quelling his fear, though he knew it ought not. No light seeped through the sleek fabric covering his eyes, and already he longed for the sight denied him.
In appearance, Robin Hood fit his legend. He had strong, even features, smouldering chestnut eyes, and sturdy oaken limbs and torso, though reality inscribed a more interesting tale. A scar blemished his left brow, and his dark curls roamed wild and unruly while stubble dusted a weather-beaten complexion that no razor could revert to smoothness. Robin glowed with an evergreen beauty that had blossomed through many seasons—and that Cal resented even as he admiringly reconstructed Robin in his mind's eye.
"Robin!"
At the black-eyed queen's call, Robin turned, drawing Cal with him. A cold breeze licked though Cal's cloak to his torn and bloodied dress. He gritted his teeth, lest they start chattering, and gathered his nerve.
Last time he'd heard, the reward for capturing Robin Hood had exceeded a hundred gold pieces. The treasure would buy him an estate, the regent's respect, and honour at court. It would be quite a wonder if he succeeded where the strongest men had failed. He could bring in Robin Hood by winning the outlaw's affection and trust.
Then he must betray him.
One of the horses whinnied while Robin negotiated with the Elfaene about how they should proceed. He would be led by one of the fair folk, and the blindfolds would not be removed till they reached the dreaded fairy heortland.
Robin touched Cal's good shoulder. "You think you can make it?"
"I think so." Cal edged into Robin's circle of warmth. "I meant what I said. If you help me, I'll be your servant, your slave."
"Among my people in Sherwood, no man was another's serf. You'd do best to remember that."
Robin tugged Cal forward, and Cal mustered a barrage of contempt. Despite all the rousing stories, Robin was a baseborn thief. Cal ought to hate him, but damn it, he still fancied the bastard.
The journey soon claimed his full attention. Branches slapped and scratched across his face. Cold, wet leaves stuck to his hair, and brambles tore his ankles. Mud clotted his shoes, making his feet heavy as rocks. Robin's warnings about the ridges, roots, and furrows in their path couldn't prevent Cal from losing his balance repeatedly, wrenching both their wrists so the bonds cut in. They echoed each other's curses.
They were ascending a slippery bank when the inevitable happened. Failing to find tenure on mud slick as ice, Cal's feet flew from under him. Robin jerked him forward, caught him, then pressed Cal against chest muscles hard as iron.
"Got you."
"Uh…thanks."
Robin rubbed Cal's back. Cal melted beneath his touch and then mentally shook himself. The hilt of Robin's dagger dug into his belly, though this was no time to snatch it. He leaned all his weight into Robin and mustered a piteous moan.
"How much farther must we labour like this, wood-wives?" called Robin. "This man is ready to drop, and he'll take me with him."
A cheery voice answered. "Not far now. Maybe an hour's walk, but if we choose the spiral paths so we can pick mushrooms in the vale, it will be three."
"Unless we're going to starve without those mushrooms, take the quickest route."
Robin's sigh reverberated through Cal, who pushed his knee between Robin's legs. Nudging upward, he brushed the outline of Robin's cock and allowed himself the glimmer of a smile. While Robin harboured no raging erection, he proved as well-endowed as any of his admirers would expect. Cal rubbed harder, letting his free hand drift down Robin's navel. That thick cock twitched. So he'd not mistaken that glint of attraction in Robin's eyes before the outlaw chose to snub him.
His luck was in. Robin Hood loved men.
With a snort, Robin released him. Before Cal's spirits could plummet too far, Robin muttered, "We'd best keep close, for both our sakes."
He lifted his arm, drawing Cal's with him. Cal heard a grunt of effort, felt the chafe of rough skin against his, and then Robin clasped his hand. To do so, Robin must have twisted his wrist in the bonds and scraped his flesh raw.
"Thank you," said Cal. He meant it. Robin could now lead him in relative comfort, and Robin's warm, calloused palm felt nice. No man had held him like this before, and he found himself in danger of growing hard from the contact alone.
"When we get there," he whispered, "you've got to help me plead my case. I'm not a traitor." Robin guided him on, the steady trudge of his footfalls offering no good answer. Cal tried a different approach. "There is one among the barons who possesses more cunning than the rest put together, and I suspect he is the one behind this charter you oppose. His name is Baron Odo."
The powerful sinews of Robin's hand tightened. Cal bit back a cry, though he'd figured a mention of Robin's erstwhile jailer might capture some interest.
"I know how many poor folk have perished because of Odo, how cruel he can be," he continued. "If you seek vengeance, I could get close, find out anything you need to know."
Still Robin failed to bless him with a response. Cal hitched his lip in a snarl. Then Robin broke his silence. "Tell me, Cal. Who ordered you to join the foresters? Was it Odo? Are you his man?"
"No!" Cal surprised himself with a barrage of truths that omitted only the real purpose of his mission. "I never saw the baron before this week. As I said, I've travelled from the palace of Westminster, from court where I
grew up. I proved no good squire and would never make a knight. I could not ride and hold a staff or sword without falling from the saddle. The other lads mocked me, and the masters beat me. I had no defender, no family or—"
"What about your mother?"
"She died seven winters past. Since then, I've been alone in the world."
Robin exerted softer pressure about Cal's fingers. "I'm sorry."
"So am I."
Cal chewed his lip. He'd not quite been deserted. Marshal had identified his talents, protected him from the worst of the blows, and taught him to think the way he must now.
"Hear me, Robin. I've no loyalty to the foresters or court. I hated my life so much I might have killed myself, had I been a braver man—"
"To take your own life is not many men's idea of bravery."
Cal rolled his eyes beneath the blindfold. Robin would no doubt have made a fantastic knight. A skilled rider and warrior who gained popularity without effort and espoused noble sentiments that made Cal want to vomit.
"Forgive me." Robin's note of tenderness tempered Cal's spleen. "I understand more than you know. Loneliness can be painful."
"What does Robin Hood know of solitude? The balladeers sing of a man with friends of such loyalty they'd risk all for him. So we're told, your band would die for you."
"Trouble with that creed is that there's always a last man standing."
Robin's situation underlined the accuracy of these words. Here strode the legend bonded to a spy and allied with the notoriously deceitful fair folk. Despite his plans, Cal felt a twinge of sadness. "I'll stand by you, if you wish it of me."
Robin offered no reply.
After they'd descended another steep incline, a shrill female shout snatched Cal back to the present. "Guest and prisoner, halt."
The chatter of fairy voices got louder again, blended with the rush and babble of water. From behind, a fairy removed Cal's blindfold, and he blinked up at Robin, impressed anew. Dressed in rustic fabrics of brown and green, Robin stood a few inches taller than Cal, though his shoulders looked broad as a keep and about as solid. The crisscrossed lacing of his tunic revealed the crisp dark hair on his chest.
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