Lady Thief

by A. C. Gaughen

  His face flickered into a grin, and with a quick twist from him I were a step away from the merchant’s shop, held tight against the thief.

  “Can’t you let me have my fun?” he asked, his Irish brogue low in my ear as I aimed my knife to drive in his thigh. “Scarlet?”

  I stopped before I stabbed him, wriggling out of his paws. I turned and looked at him—tall and shift-footed, with too-long hair and too-bright eyes—not a lick of which were known to me. “I don’t know you.”

  He swept into an awful proper bow. “Allan a Dale, my lady thief.”

  Tucking my new knives into their proper places, I frowned at him. “You know me?”

  “I came up in London behind your legend. And still it grows,” he told me, tossing me an apple from a stand. He waved me forward. “Walk with me?”

  “Dangerous prospect,” I said, but I did, and I bit the apple. “I miss London every now and a bit.”

  “Filthy, pest-ridden, hard-scrabble, beautiful city,” he said, grinning.

  “But how did you know me?”

  He looked cut. “A knife-wielding lady who cut off her own hair to fight a thief taker? There aren’t many of you in the world, my lady.”

  I snorted. “Don’t have to call me lady, Allan.”

  “Dressed like that I think I do.” He cast about in the marketplace. “So where is Robin Hood?”

  “Where he ought,” I said. “With his people.” We passed a shanty of a house on the edge of the marketplace, and two children were there, filthy and still, watching all the people go by.

  Frowning, I turned back to the nearest bakers stall and gave the rest of my coin for bread. “You’re paying for things?” Allan said.

  Lifting my shoulders, I went back toward the children. “Not my coin, so that ain’t quite so.”

  He laughed. I gave a loaf to the two children and quick enough others came, and Allan were quick to take bread from my stack and rip it apart to spread round. “I’ve heard this is what you do,” he said. “Stealing to feed people.” His head went to the side. “It’s so … strange.”

  “It’s what nobles do,” I said bitter. “Prince John feasting every night—he’s taking the game and the crops from the people of the shire, putting them to starve in winter. Least I ain’t stealing to feed myself.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” he said. “He’s stealing to feed his ego, not his belly. It hasn’t been so well tended these days.”

  “His ego?”

  Allan kept the last bit of bread for himself, and with the food gone, the children went too. He nodded, chewing. “You didn’t hear?”

  I frowned. “I ain’t much for gossip.”

  He stopped, swallowed, and then did a turn with a tuck of his cap, winking for show. “This is the royal court, fair thief. It lives on gossip, perception, and hearsay.” His hands spread wide. “Let me spin you a tale, then.”

  He bowed and I crossed my arms.

  With a shrug, he stood. “Well, when Richard left for the Holy Crusade, he kicked John to France. Told him to stay out of his country while he was away, and named his wee nephew his heir. Because God knows, Richard knows how to steal a crown—it was taught to him in the womb, so they say. Eleanor of Aquitaine herself incited her sons in rebellion against their father. And if he didn’t learn violence from her, then maybe from the Devil that bore them all.”

  “Devil?” I asked.

  “Oh aye, you haven’t heard that one either? Richard loves to boast of his Devil’s blood, begat when his ancestor wed a serpent.”

  My eyes rolled. “Christ, you’re a fool.”

  “Don’t let a few silly truths muddle up a good story,” he told me sharp.

  I looked Heavenward, but there weren’t no help there. “What’s this about John’s ego?” I reminded.

  He frowned. “Can’t appreciate a decent yarn. Something wrong in your head, Lady Scar. Richard kicked John out of England, and the bishops were bickering as bishops are wont to do, and Eleanor petitioned for John to come back. So Richard allows it, right, and John’s been setting up his own royal court outside of the bishops meant to rule in Richard’s stead. The two courts have been rising, both powerful, and fighting each other in petty ways. So Richard sends in the Archbishop from Rouen to keep the peace—and knock John’s legs out. Prince John makes his stand and he’s expecting everyone to rally to him, but they don’t. They keep Richard’s orders and leave John. So John runs north at Mummy’s command and is trying to win back the people’s hearts.”

  I gawped at him. “So it’s true, then? He wants to change things around here?”

  Allan laughed. “He wants … to make England his very own high-priced whore. He wants to feel loved without ever caring what it takes to earn the real thing. A little coin, a little bread, and watch England do her merry dance.”

  My shoulders lifted. “So long as the whore is paid and eating, what’s the difference?”

  He tossed his apple core onto the street. “Ask the whore.”

  We were near the edge of Nottingham, and I saw the market and the castle beyond in one direction. I saw forest in the other, and my heart ached so fierce I almost set off for it, like wading into the ocean with no hope of swimming for distant shores. Allan were talking—for a thief he yapped an amount I could bare fathom—and I thought how easy it would be to just step over the road and into the forest.

  “Scarlet!” he yelped, grabbing my dress and yanking me back as a carriage thundered past.

  Landing on my backside, I stared up at the blue coach, hung with gold and the royal seal.

  “You don’t want to be crushed by the Queen Mum,” he told me, giving me a hand up.

  “That’s Eleanor of Aquitaine?” I asked.

  He shrugged. “Her carriage, at least.”

  “Scarlet,” said another voice, and this one were farther. The dust from her carriage cleared and Rob were there, looking dark and shadowed and haunted.

  My blood ran fast to beating and my mouth hung open. I fair thought I’d know what to say to him, but I didn’t.

  “Don’t tell me you’re Robin Hood,” Allan said, crossing his arms. “I thought you’d be taller.”

  Robin strode across the road, stepping close to me, so close Allan weren’t even in my world anymore. I blinked and stared at him. Good Lord I couldn’t look at him but for thinking he held everything in my heart. It were a terrible power to keep over me.

  “Who are you?” Robin asked, looking to Allan.

  “Allan a Dale,” he said. “You sure you’re her man, because I’ll tell you, the stories I hear put you at about seven foot tall.” He paused, but I didn’t look to see his face. “And the stories I tell have you much more game for a laugh.”

  “Allan,” I said, breathing in the smell only Rob had, of pine and ash and ocean. “Go now.”

  “My lady,” he said, and that were the last of him.

  Rob’s eyes were fierce and hard and they glittered down at me. “Please explain in some small measure, Scarlet.”

  “Allan? He’s a thief, from London. Kindred soul,” I said.

  “Gisbourne.”

  My eyes shut. “Rob, I had to.”

  “No, you didn’t. You told me you would never go back to him. You told me you understood that he would kill you. And what is wrong with your hand? Is it broken? You went to him with a broken hand?”

  “Rob,” I said low, not daring to open my eyes. “My hand’ll be right again. And as for killing me … well, he hasn’t yet.”

  “Scarlet.” My eyes flew open and his were shut tight, his head bent. Hurting, I pushed my forehead to his. His hands came up and held my face, leaning as if he were ’bout to kiss me. His eyes opened a sliver and met mine, and he let me go, swearing and turning from me.

  “That’s why, Rob,” I told him soft.

  “Why what?” he snapped, turning back round.

  “Why I went to Gisbourne. Because I need to kiss you, to touch you, to hold on to you through your awful dreams. Wit
hout us both wondering if we’re doing a sin.”

  He turned back to me and caught me, one arm round my waist pulling me off my feet and the other in my hair tugging my head back. I caught his eyes, fixed on me in a way that made heat rush over me in a breaking wave, and I couldn’t breathe.

  Our lips touched. His were dry and rasped over me a bit, like it were so chaste it weren’t even there. Then his mouth opened and it weren’t dry anymore. His lips were perfect against mine, more soft than I would have never guessed, and warm like the sun hitting the water.

  My blood ran hot and fast and I felt more than human, like I were powerful beyond every measure. His mouth opened more and his tongue ran against my lips, and my whole body sparked like tinder. I bare had a thought, but I wanted more of him, so much more, and my hands were desperate for it, fingertips running like they could keep whatever they touched.

  My back nudged up against a wall, somewhere shaded from the sun and prying eyes, but I didn’t never remember moving. His head twisted and our lips broke for a bare instant before he touched them back again, twisting his head the other way. His lips pressed my bruise and I jerked.

  His arms went tense and hard around me, and the kiss broke apart. His nose nudged me like a dog giving orders, and I obeyed, moving my face to one side. Hot hands running my sides, his mouth touched impossible gentle to the bruise by my mouth from Gisbourne. Rob’s lips left, then dropped soft small kisses on the bruises that he had laid. He kissed my closed eyes and without wanting it, water dripped out from my eyes. He kissed that away too.

  “I’m sorry, sweet,” he whispered into my ear. “I’m sorry I pushed you to this.”

  My hands twisted to fists in his shirt. “I never should have married him, Rob. I should have found another way.”

  “We’ll get out of this,” he said. “I’ll get better, and you can walk away.”

  I shook my head a tiny bit. “I’m getting that annulment. They call me Marian, Rob, and they act with so little honor it’s a horror to call them nobility.” I pushed my head to his. “They took my name, Rob.”

  His lips touched mine again, more puffed and soft now, burning against mine. When he stopped he didn’t go nowhere, speaking straight into my mouth. “They can have your name. I know who you are, with or without it. And I won’t ever let you lose that. My love. My Scarlet.”

  I pressed a kiss to his mouth. “Say it once more?” I asked.

  He kissed me. “Scarlet,” he breathed. Another kiss. “Scarlet.”

  I didn’t need strength. My heart were so full to bursting that I could have run to London and back without food, drink, or rest. My body were burned over and over with the feel of him, and it were all I needed to stay strong.

  It were an awful sin, and I didn’t care. Kissing Rob made me an adulterer, but wedding Gisbourne when he weren’t the one in my heart made me an adulterer too. I didn’t for a breath believe a kiss would make Robin better, but it were all I needed to hold on to everything I were doing this for.

  Church bells rang out, and I broke the kiss, listening for the hour. “I have to go,” I whispered against his mouth.

  His nose rubbed mine slowly, then his mouth pressed against mine once more. “Do you know how often I’ve imagined kissing you?”

  My breath stopped, and I opened my eyes to search his. “And?”

  “You cannot tell me to stop now and watch you walk away,” he said, his breath running into my breath. Another kiss. “Especially to him.”

  My ring felt heavier then, and I pulled back from Rob. I stroked his cheek slow with my good hand. “I’ll make it right, Rob. I’ll get the annulment and then I can kiss you in public. All day long. Till the village wives wring their hands at us.”

  He smiled, leaning into my hand. “We’ve always been good at causing a bit of chaos.”

  I stepped away from him with a sad smile, but he tugged my good wrist and brought me back for one more kiss. Then he let me go and I walked back to the castle, every step dragging and slow like I were fighting against a tide.

  Chapter Nine

  The servants were laying out a fancy dress and brushing it flat and free of dust and dirt when I came back to the room. The long bit were gold, shimmering and bright, and the shorter bit that fit over it were tufted red velvet, the same color as my old ribbons. It were an awful expensive thing, and it felt like soft moss beneath my hand.

  “You would like to dress now, my lady?”

  “No,” I said quick, pulling my hand back from it. “Where can I bathe?”

  “We’ll fetch the bath for you, my lady.”

  I forgot about this—the silly labor of baths. Fair shamed by it, I stashed my knives by the shutter as they left, then watched as the servants first brought the basin to the chambers, then pail after pail of water warmed in the kitchens and sloshed cold by the time it made it to me. I didn’t mind that much—I were used to bathing in colder waters—but I were meant to sit in the half-empty basin while they poured it over me, slow and waiting for more water.

  Then the lady servant set upon me with soap and cloths, and that part were a far cry better than bathing in the lake.

  Course, Gisbourne walked in half through this ordeal, and I weren’t none too pleased by him seeing all my bits again. And he just folded his arms and watched me. I covered myself in the water as best I could with my knees and such, but it didn’t make me feel much better.

  “Quite a gentleman, aren’t you,” I spat at him.

  “What?” he asked. “A man can’t look upon his wife? From what I’m told it’s the same as looking upon my arm, or my foot. You belong to my body, Marian, and I shall look at you how I choose.”

  Blood were creeping up my neck and cheeks, and I stared at the water as the maid finished, fetching a sheet for me.

  “You were missed at supper last night,” he said.

  “I’m sure.”

  “I realize I wasn’t specific about this before, but court suppers are part of our bargain. Every function you are expected to attend as my wife you shall attend, or our deal is off. Do you understand?”

  The servant shook the sheet open, standing off to the side. I motioned her over, to stand between me and Gisbourne, but she just looked confused.

  Gisbourne laughed, damn him.

  Full of hate and shame, I stood, wrapping the sheet round me as quick as I could. Gisbourne came forward as I stood there, putting his hand on my stomach where the big bruise lay, pulsing and sore under the thin cover of the sheet. My whole skin shivered with the touch of a hand through so little fabric.

  He looked at me, his eyes dark. “Seems you know a lot of gentlemen.”

  It should have shamed me, but that weren’t the way of it. It made me think of Robin, of his mouth and his hands and his body all along mine.

  “Hold on,” he ordered abruptly, and without more word he grasped my middle and pulled me from the bath. Swallowing a gasp, my hand shot out to his shoulder as he lifted me up over the edge and set my feet down.

  He let me go immediately, and I pulled away from him, holding the sheet tight to me.

  He pulled the tunic off over his head. “Send up more water,” he said to Eadric. “No reason to let this waste.”

  I dragged the long, loose dress over my head as more of his clothes came off. He bared his chest, staring at me. I looked away, but I felt his eyes on me as he stripped down completely.

  “And here I thought what’s good for the goose is good for the gander,” he goaded with a laugh. “Don’t want to peek, love?”

  Rob’s kiss burned over me again. “Don’t call me that. You don’t love me. It’s a mock.”

  “Yes,” he said. “It is. Love.”

  I shook my head, keeping turned away from him and letting my maid tug and pull and tie me. I heard the splash of the water and the sounds of washing, and I felt like I were fair pinned in the corner of the room, unable to move.

  The servant sat me on the edge of the bed and brushed what there were of my hair
—long bits in front that fluffed about my face, and the short bunches in back that didn’t lay flat. It behaved a bit more for her, and she did some trick with pins and it stayed back, like it were all gathered about the bun that weren’t there anymore.

  “Thank you,” I murmured to her.

  Gisbourne stood from the bath. “Last chance,” he said before his manservant put the cloth around him. I stayed still, and he laughed at me. I sat on the bed while his manservant dressed him in black velvet, stark and fine against the white of his shirt, his body big and wide and hard with muscle that seemed odd to be dressed in velvet.

  I looked away. He weren’t ugly.

  Not liking the thought, I went to the window, retrieving my knife when he weren’t looking and hiding it in the back of the shorter overdress.

  Finished, he held out his hand and I took it, letting him pull me in front of him. He stared me over, but not the same as when I wasn’t dressed. “Perfect,” he said. “The dress suits you nicely. Now if you just don’t open your mouth, we may be able to pull this off.”

  “What is there to pull?” I asked, taking my hand back. “It ain’t as if we’re fixing to steal something from the prince.” I looked at him. “Are you?”

  “I’m trying to convince him that you’re a well-bred lady instead of a heathen,” he told me. “It’s a little bit harder than stealing bread.”

  “Why should he care?”

  “I care. You should care.”

  “Why?”

  “Christ, you’re little better than a toddler.” Shaking his head, he came toward me till my back hit the wall, and he leaned close to my ear. “You want an annulment, Marian, yes?”

  My hand curled around the knife I had hidden, but I nodded.

  “Do you know what the only thing is that will allow for our marriage to be annulled?”

  My mug went hot and red but I didn’t say nothing to him.

  He leaned even closer so his lips touched my ear. “Lack of consummation.”

  Stepping back a pace, his eyes went over me in a different way, a way that made me hold my breath because breathing made my chest move too much. Though my heart were hammering hard enough that it might have been a fair exchange, the cloth beating with the pulse of what lay beneath.