Cal didn't wish to choose anything. He wanted to belong to Robin, and wanted Robin to tell him what to do, but he daren't admit that. Maybe it would be different when he grew stronger.
He closed his eyes and listened to the steady thump of Robin's heart and allowed himself to be content.
Chapter Sixteen
In a week, Cal could keep pace with Robin for a half-day hunting trip. Trailing far from their camp, seeking venison and horned hog, Robin enjoyed having Cal with him, and Cal's energies returned so fast it thrilled him. He'd worried his nerves ragged having to leave Cal alone to seek food, though at least when he'd returned, Cal had been contented and easily cheered with an evening's rutting.
Now as they stalked small game, another of Cal's arrows went awry. Cal cursed like a king who'd lost his crown. He threw down his bow and looked ready to stamp on it.
"'Tis no problem." Robin grinned and picked through the gorse to reach him. "Coneys are flighty little buggers, and look, I already have a brace." He lifted the rabbits but opted not to mention the young hart he'd draped over his shoulder. Cal's glare heated. "It's not a contest, lad."
"Damn good job it's not." Cal sighed. "You'd win every time. I'm hopeless."
"Don't be so hard on yourself. I've been practicing this all my life." Robin slung down the meat, then plucked Cal's bow from the dead ferns and handed it back to him. He pulled an arrow from his quiver and pointed to a slender witchwood tree about ten yards off. "I'll wager you can strike that through."
"I suppose I've a faint chance," grumbled Cal. "As long as it doesn't start walking away." He nocked the arrow and raised his bow, wrinkling his nose as he focused. His stance looked wrong, his toes pointing in. Robin pulled a face too.
"Try standing side-on and plant your feet farther apart." He turned Cal, who scowled, then relented. Glad to feel Cal loosen up, Robin tilted Cal's head so he faced his target. Cal's knuckles were white about the yew shaft. "Don't clasp so tight. Now keep everything but your arm and head still and give it a go."
Cal unleashed, and his shot glanced off the edge of the trunk, then skittered to the dirt.
"Shit." Cal laughed, twisting to face Robin. "Could have been worse?"
"It was excellent, but you swivelled your waist as you released. Let's give it another try." He handed over another arrow, then wrapped his body about Cal's. As Cal pulled back the cord, Robin tried to hold him still. Cal's golden hair tickled his chin, and their bodies moulded together as if created to fit this way. Cal's rounded backside rubbed beneath Robin's groin.
"Concentrate," Robin muttered, as much to himself as to Cal. It did no good. Cal squirmed, shifting his arse, and the contact set Robin's cock jerking. Cal threw down his weapon and snickered.
"I couldn't strike a target the size of a mountain with you grinding your prick against my arse, and I don't care. I'll never be as good as you." He licked claret-red lips and pulled Robin back to him. "How about you fuck me into the forest floor instead?"
Robin mastered temptation that threatened to devour him, then puffed his cheeks and calmed his racing blood. He'd love to indulge Cal, but they both knew it wasn't safe here. Though Brock and Odo's men never ventured far into the forest, he and Cal had wandered too near the verges to let their guard down so recklessly.
"We'd better wait till we get back."
Strain sharpened Cal's features, and then he nodded and wriggled from Robin's embrace. "You're right. Let's go. Oh, and I'm going to prepare our meal tonight. Your mushroom pottage is poisonous, I swear."
They journeyed back in near silence that Robin would've found comfortable save for the knowledge that saddened him. Now that Cal was well, they'd have to act soon. They must give up their paradise.
Robin trusted that John could defend his family and friends as well as any man, but he should go north and warn him of Odo's threat. Then he must continue the battle as he'd planned, forming a new band of outlaws.
He'd no more heart for it than he had for meaningless tumbles in the bracken. Though he looked back on his old friends—besides Daniel—with the same fondness as ever, the casual encounters he'd enjoyed in Sherwood held no appeal. He wanted to stay here, alone with Cal, sharing a one-on-one passion and trust that could never be displaced by another.
And he hated the thought of Cal trekking back to London. Any notion of Cal being in danger sickened him, as it turned his stomach when they returned to camp and Cal suggested traveling alone to one of the forest villages.
"I can barter for bread and wool. We'll need warmer clothes for when the winter sets in." Cal sprinkled seasoning over the venison, then turned the spit. "And don't tell me it's too risky. I'm a royal spy, remember? I can evade a few thick-skulled guards."
"I don't care. It's still too soon." Robin rolled his eyes, attempting to keep the mood light despite the weight on his mind. "And if you dare go running off alone, I'll put you over my knee and spank you."
"Oh yes?" Cal jumped up, leaving the meat sizzling and spitting, the mouth-watering aroma filling the air. "Mayhap I'm off now. What are you going to do about it?"
He darted toward the undergrowth, and Robin leaped to make chase. He dived to catch Cal and wrestled him to the mulch, grappling and playing at fighting. This madness hadn't been his intention, but he forgot everything beyond his lover's careless laughter as he hauled Cal over his lap and yanked up his short tunic.
Cal waggled his pale buttocks. Robin stroked him tenderly, savouring the heat of his skin, the shiver of his flesh. Cal squeezed his muscles, then relaxed, and Robin offered three sharp slaps.
His palm burned against the curves of Cal's arse, which shuddered and glowed. Cal cried out. His gasps sounded pleasure-racked…and a little frightened. "Just one more," he pleaded. "But not too hard. I…I can't help tensing."
"'Tis enough." Robin gathered Cal up so he could press his forehead to Cal's. He couldn't bear to hurt Cal after what he had been through. It was too soon for either of them to mix this kind of play into their pleasures and might be for many seasons.
Reading the sadness in Cal's eyes, Robin held him and kissed him, wishing they'd a lifetime to explore each other's passions. Whether they'd more than another rise and fall of the moon, who knew?
*~*~*
Five days later, Cal hurried back into the Greenwood with his pack stuffed with bread, cheese, and wool, brimming with hopes that Robin would be pleased. At least Robin would be happy once he'd stopped being annoyed with Cal for running off without telling him.
After that, everything would be perfect for a little while more.
He hastened on, tracing paths that had become familiar to him, easy to follow now that the forest had stopped trying to confound and trick. Indeed, Greenwood magic had left him and Robin in peace during his recovery period, though his responsibilities as a protector niggled as much as the knowledge they'd a war to fight. If he wasn't faederswica, if the spirits and Robin had saved him, what the hell was he supposed to do about it?
The hum of voices reached his ears before he could see the camp through the thickets.
Fairies.
He could hear Robin, a masculine rumble amid the female chatter, and another voice, deeper than Robin's. Could it be Herne?
Cal's shoulders sagged, his burden of supplies all of a sudden too heavy. They'd come to demand Robin fight on, and who knew what would be expected of Cal.
It was all over.
He crept into the clearing, keeping his back to the dozen figures gathered about the fire, resentment mounting with every step. He didn't want to apologize and explain himself. He just wanted to be alone with Robin. As he threw down his pack, Robin called his name and hurried over.
Robin took hold of Cal, turning him. "I can't believe you ran off. I was so—"
"I didn't know we were expecting visitors."
Cal scrutinized Robin, who returned the favour. Above all, Robin looked relieved. The loving fashion in which he rubbed Cal's shoulders, melting a little of his tension, belied t
he presence of the visitors at the hearth. All the same, Cal sensed the fairies staring.
"I wasn't expecting them," answered Robin, "but we have their company, so it seems." He drew Cal about and urged him toward the fire. Cal glared at the Elfaene and a bunch of her annoying daughters, but the large man who sat beside them on the log turned out not to be Herne.
Silver smudged the newcomer's black beard and wild hair, and his grey-green eyes twinkled. When he rose, leaning heavily on his staff, he seemed burly as a bear. He stretched a hand out in greeting.
"Cal," said Robin. "I'd like you to meet a very dear friend of mine. This is Little John."
*~*~*
The Elfaene's monologue drifted straight through Robin while they feasted on wild hog and Cal's bread and cheese. He couldn't admit that the fairy's presence pleased him, though her tidings were promising. Her daughters had learned that Odo had been laid low for as long as Cal, and no more action had been taken regarding the charter of the forest. And of course, seeing John thrilled and relieved him. John and his eldest son had fought off an attack by Odo's men a week prior and escaped with their family, Will, and Much into Sherwood.
His ears were pricked by John's low voice.
"We need you back up north. The harvest has been poor this year, the taxes higher than ever, and the people are starving. There are lads fighting back, but they need a leader. My boy Robin sees himself as following in your footsteps, but last summer was but his sixteenth."
"So Little John named his firstborn after Robin," murmured Cal, who sat at his side.
Robin rested a hand on Cal's thigh. The agitation rolling from his lover set his nerves jangling too. But while he hated this shattering of their solitude as much as Cal did, he saw little choice.
"You told me you'd always wanted a son," said Cal.
"Or a daughter." He abhorred fathers who saw less value in their female offspring, though that was hardly the issue now. He shook his head. "I don't know, John. My presence might just bring unwanted attention to you, undermine rather than enhance your campaign. I need time to think."
"We may not have much time." The Elfaene snapped her fingers, doing her best to snatch the men's attention. "We need you here, Robin, and not just to make your stand in the south with Herne." One of her daughters passed her a healthy brown hazel cob, which she popped in her mouth, cracked with her teeth, and chewed. "'Tis delicious, and must be your doing, Robin Hood. The Green Man walks tall and proud, and now the waters whisper that his son is among us."
Though grateful for his father's blessing, Robin didn't appreciate her enthusiasm. "I'm glad to hear the balance between the spirits is returning, but might that not be because of Cal, your protector?"
The Elfaene snorted, and her daughters tittered.
"Fuck you all," muttered Cal. He scrambled up and ran back to the shelter.
Robin's patience snapped too. "These decisions are Cal's as much as mine, and he's yet to make a poor call when the pressure is on. It's time the fair folk of the Greenwood showed respect where it's due." He rose, forcing a smile for John. "Come join us when you've finished your feast, old friend. Elfaene." He shot her a sharp look. "Fare ye well."
*~*~*
The furs smelled of passion, sweat, and fucking, drenched with memories of the best weeks of Cal's life. Kneeling amid their bedding on the floor, he thumped his fist down and snarled back tears of frustration.
Robin should go with John, and he must make haste for Westminster. He'd felt as strong as in his life for a good ten days now. He'd put this off too long.
When Robin pressed his chin to Cal's shoulder and wrapped his arms about him, Cal gritted his jaw.
"You're going, then?" snapped Cal.
"No." Robin's placid voice felt like a balm, and Cal realized he'd been holding his breath. "Whatever happens, we decide together. We're equals. Partners."
Cal yearned to turn into Robin's embrace, to bury his face in Robin's chest and hide, but he couldn't let himself. Not anymore.
They weren't equals. They never would be. Robin deserved companions like John and his son, no doubt as solid a fellow as his father.
"You should go back to Sherwood." To find somebody worthy of you. "And I must return to court."
"No." Robin shifted around to look at him. "We can find another way to get the documents to Marshal."
"This is the best way." Cal touched Robin's lips and curved a wry smile. "I can take care of myself. You can trust me."
"I know that, but if anything happened to you—"
He silenced Robin with a lingering kiss that all but gouged his heart out. If they parted, their paths might never cross again. When they broke away from each other, lips swollen and bodies smouldering for more intimate contact, Robin shook his head.
"We'll decide what to do in the morning. When those damned fairies have gone. I need to talk to John about Daniel too. I don't blame him for keeping the truth from me, but I'd like to hear it from him now."
"Very well." Cal lay back on the furs and managed a wistful smile. "So now I've met the famous Little John. He's not very little, is he?"
Robin's laugh sounded as wretched as Cal felt. "That's the point."
"Yes, I know." Cal curled into a tight ball. "I'm sure I once heard a ballad about a maid called Marian, and how Robin Hood adored her with a fervour that exceeded the love of fourscore chivalrous knights. I hope she's not going to turn up next."
"Ah, Marian."
Robin's affectionate tone shot a bolt of disquiet through Cal. "She was real?"
"As you or I am, but don't fret. She's my sister. Not of blood, of course, but the daughter of the folk who raised me. Marian was a year older than I, taught me how to use a bow and many useful things—including how to hold up a fat friar's wagon and snatch his ill-gotten plunder back for the poor."
"Oh," said Cal. Relief didn't lighten his mood. "How does she fare these days?"
"I'm hoping John will give me good tidings. Last time I heard, Marian remained in Inglewood with her husband, a healer who worships her."
"Lucky woman," murmured Cal. "Wouldn't you like to meet her again?"
He read Robin's answer in the memories clouding his eyes. Robin wanted to see Marian. He desired his old life back.
John chose to sleep by the hearth, and Cal blessed him for it. Under the reed-and-wattle awning they'd called home, Cal took Robin's cock in his mouth and sucked him to ecstasy. Then he slicked his shaft with oils and swived into Robin's hard body. He took his lover unhurriedly, sighing and claiming, pumping Robin's cock as he struck to his prostate. Robin arched against him, flexing and rippling the muscles of his back, till Cal grew sweaty and frantic, his thrusts desperate, and his throat dry with his needful grunts.
He waited till Robin slept and listened to the rise and fall of Robin's gentle breaths. Then he wrapped his warmest furs about himself, gathered the evidence of Odo's treason, and stole off into the night.
Chapter Seventeen
One month later
Cal swept along the corridors of the palace of Westminster, his gown, trimmed with Parisian brocade, streaming behind him, his chin tilted in the air. Servants scuttled from his path, one girl whispering behind her wrist. He could imagine what she said.
That knave must be bedding the boy king's mother to garner the rewards being lavished on him.
Wagging tongues didn't scare him; little frightened him anymore. He'd done what he had to. He'd let Robin go. Where life drifted now, it proved difficult to care, though he'd wasted long hours brooding on the windswept mud banks that morning and needed to move faster. He'd an audience with the regent, and Marshal didn't like to be kept waiting.
He was approaching the great hall when Sir Henry Burcy bounded from under an arch and blocked his route. Raised at court with Cal, Henry had provided marginally less irksome company than most of the knights in training. Indeed, he'd pushed Cal into a cesspit only once. From a tall, gawky boy still to grow into his hands and feet, Henry had matured into
a man of brawny build and fine looks, with a generous mouth and noble profile. He and Cal had squandered an evening together a few nights past, imbibing spiced ale and spewing mindless banter.
Henry now slung an arm about Cal's shoulder and led him aside. "Cal, do you remember my sister, Jane?"
Cal blinked. From the recesses of his memory, he dragged a little girl with pigtails, who carried a clay doll wrapped in colourful rags. "I believe I do."
"She's recently turned fifteen and still not wed, though she's quite a prize. Father's placed a good dowry on her—two manors, each over a thousand acres, plus eight hundred marks. Anyway, Father has been talking with the regent, and what with your fortunes rising ever upward…" Henry trailed off, his expression open and earnest, and his purport obvious.
"You want me to marry her." The suggestion stunned him. Jane had probably grown as handsome as her brother, but he'd never envisaged a future as a husband. Then again, he'd not expected any family of good lineage would wish to take him into their fold.
An excuse formulated on the tip of his tongue…right till Henry barrelled him under a flap in one of the wall hangings and into a privy. An icy gale howled up through the open lavatory from the River Thames, which flowed twenty feet below.
Now that they were alone, Henry used his bulk to pin Cal against the wall. "Oh, Cal!" He cupped Cal's shocked face and licked lips that were broad, masculine, and appealing. "You grow more beautiful every day. I know you've lain with men, but I don't suppose you've guessed how long I've watched, admired…and loved you."
Er, no. I'd not the faintest notion, actually.
Cal recalled Henry fishing him out of the cesspit he'd cast him into and mumbling an apology. Before their recent carousing, that had been Henry's only expression of camaraderie, let alone love.
"If you took Jane as yours," gushed Henry, "we would be family. It would be so easy, if I wanted…I mean, if you wanted… If we wanted…"
His hot breaths giddied Cal. The semi-erection the knight ground into his stomach was flattering, if nothing else. To be taken into the House of Burcy would bring Cal family and wealth, not to mention this powerful man fighting on his side, as well as warming his bed on occasion.
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