The Secret of Gisborne: A BBW Shifter Paranormal Romance (House of Gisborne Book 1)

by Alanis Knight

  With that, she hastily turned on her heel, swept herself up onto the horse, and galloped away, leaving Gisborne standing in the door.

  “Marian!” he called after her, his voice thick with distress. “MARIAN!”

  Marian kicked the sides of the horse harder and harder, urging it forward. On it raced until it reached the lane, where she turned it up the hill beyond the lake. She jumped off its back while it was still moving and grabbed the reins, tying them to a tree.

  She tripped and stumbled blindly through the nearly pitch-black forest. Somehow, the snow even managed to penetrate the thick tree canopy, and she could scarcely feel her feet. Gritting her teeth, she waded across the creek, sucking in a sharp breath as the frigid water felt as though thousands of needles were stabbing into her flesh.

  “Robin!” she screamed shrilly. “Robin!”

  His head poked out from his tent, and he eyed her with concern as she stood before him dripping and pale.

  “Marian, what’s happened?” he asked, pulling her against him and leading her into the warmth of his tent.

  “G-Gisb-borne,” she chattered. “H-he’s k-killed my f-father!”

  “What?” Robin gasped, pushing her carefully onto his mattress and wrapping her thickly with furs and skins.

  Her teeth clacked together so violently her head began to ache, and she closed her eyes and rocked back and forth, her arms wrapped around her knees. Robin sat beside her and took her into his strong arms.

  “Tell me what happened,” Robin said.

  “W-when I g-got home from w-work...” she stammered. “I found F-Father. Someone c-cut his throat!”

  “How do you know it was Gisborne?” Robin asked.

  “A-Annie... sh-she saw him l-leaving this m-morning... He was l-leaving the c-cottage…”

  “Marian, I’m so sorry,” Robin whispered into her hair.

  The warmth of Robin’s embrace began to calm her, warming her body and soothing her mind. She began to relax against him, her head drooping to his shoulder.

  “What am I to do?” he wailed. “I’ve nowhere to go, and I can’t go back to the castle. I can’t!”

  “Shh,” Robin whispered. “Shh, it’s all right. You can stay here.”

  “With you?”

  “We’ll set you up with your own tent,” Robin said quickly. “You can join us.”

  “Gisborne will come for me,” she said. “You’ll all be in danger.”

  “You let us worry about that,” Robin said. “You’re among friends.”

  Marian nodded weakly, her hands grasping Robin’s tunic as she sobbed into his shoulder.

  “Marian, why would Gisborne kill your father, anyway?” Robin asked. “It doesn’t make any sense.”

  “Because he came to me this morning and formally asked me to marry him on bended knee. I said no, and the flew into a rage and trashed the cottage.”

  “I see.”

  “He’s angry, Robin. I was so frightened. I didn’t even want to go to work today, but I had no choice. But now that’s Father’s gone, I’ve little reason to go back. Gisborne must have gone in right after I left.”

  “We won’t let him get away with this, Marian. I swear to you... you will have vengeance.”

  “No,” Marian said flatly. “I’m not going to do it. I won’t sink to his level.”

  “Marian, because of him, you’ve lost everything! You’ve lost your father, your freedom... you’ll have to hide like an outlaw!”

  “I thought I could do it, Robin,” she said. “I went to the castle. I confronted him. I was ready to tear him apart with my bare hands! But I couldn’t. I just couldn’t allow myself to become a monster like him.”

  “Then I’ll do it,” Robin declared.

  “Oh, no you won’t!” Marian insisted. “I’ll not have you in more trouble because of me. If you murder Gisborne, you’ll be the most hunted man in England!”

  “I don’t care! This cannot go unpunished!”

  “We’ll find a way to make him pay for this, Robin, but not with bloodshed. There’s been enough of that already.”

  “He’s a vampire, Marian! He kills for sport! He and his kind need to be eradicated!”

  “That may be, but you aren’t going to be the one to do it,” she warned him. The she raised her voice through the walls of the tent to shout, “Nor any of you!”

  She heard the scuffling of feet in the leaves and the clearing of throats as the others moved away from Robin’s tent where they’d been silently listening.

  “Are you certain this what you want?” Robin asked.

  “Yes. We will not be monsters like him,” Marian said adamantly.

  “Very well,” said Robin. “If that is what you wish, then we will find another way to make Gisborne pay.”

  “Too right,” muttered John from outside the tent.

  “I need to get Annie’s horse back,” Marian said. “And... we need to get my father a proper burial.”

  “I’ll see to the horse, Marian,” Robin said. “You lie down and get some rest. We’ll take care of your father on the morrow.”

  “Where will you sleep?” Marian asked.

  “I’ll sleep in the cave,” Robin said. “Don’t worry, it’s quite cozy.”

  Marian nodded, and Robin stood up and allowed her to lie down. Then he turned to leave the tent, but she grabbed his arm. He turned to look at her.

  “Robin... thank you.”

  He smiled and nodded. “My pleasure.”

  He disappeared through the tent flap, and Marian wrapped the hides more tightly around her to keep out the freezing air. But she could not sleep. Softly, quietly, she began to cry. Losing her father was hard enough, but to know that she’d been duped by someone she’d very nearly grown to trust was too much to bear.

  Gisborne would pay.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Marian awoke to the scent of warm bread and cooked meat. She opened her eyes, and Robin was peering down at her and smiling. In his hand, he held a plate of food.

  “Good morn, milady,” he said, and she managed a weak smile in response.

  “Thank you, Robin, but I’m not very hungry.”

  “Come on, Marian, you need to keep up your strength. I’ve made arrangements for a funeral for your father in Locksley.”

  “Father Michaels is out of town,” Marian said.

  “Don’t worry, there’s a Friar visiting town who’s agreed to officiate. Now here, eat.”

  Marian took the plate that Robin thrust at her. She picked up the chunk of bread still warm from the pan and she nibbled it to satisfy Robin.

  “The funeral is in an hour, so we must hurry,” Robin said.

  Marian choked down as much of her meal as she could, and then Robin called the horses and they charged in from the forest. Robin mounted and held his hand to her, and she climbed up behind him and wrapped her arms around his waist. The group galloped through the forest and down the hill past the cottage toward the village.

  The Friar was waiting for them at the graveyard in Locksley Village. The ground had already been prepared, and her father’s body was already inside the coffin.

  “Robin,” Marian whispered, leaning close to him. “I cannot afford a coffin!”

  “It has been taken care of,” the Friar explained.

  “By whom?” Marian asked.

  “The benefactor wishes to remain anonymous,” said the Friar.

  “A group from the village, perhaps?” Robin shrugged to Marian.

  “That must be it,” Marian said. “Though I wish they hadn’t. Most of them can ill afford such a thing.”

  “Yes, but they all had tremendous respect for your father,” Robin said. “Allow them this.”

  “Of course,” Marian agreed.

  “Shall we begin?” asked the Friar.

  “Please,” Marian said.

  Robin’s men stood at a respectful attention behind them. As the Friar began the funeral, Marian couldn’t help but notice movement in the tree line behind
the church. She squinted, her eyes focusing.

  “Gisborne,” she hissed, her eyes narrowing.

  “What’s he doing here?” Robin growled.

  Gisborne, noticing he’d been spotted, quickly disappeared into the shadows of the trees.

  “I can’t believe he had the nerve to show up here,” Will whispered.

  When the Friar had finished, the coffin was slowly lowered into the ground. Marian clutched a fistful of snowy earth in her hand for a moment, and then she tossed it atop the coffin.

  “Good bye, Father,” she whispered, her eyes stinging with tears. “You spent your life caring for me, and when you needed me, I wasn’t there. I am so sorry.”

  Robin and the others began to fill the grave as Marian stood above it and watched her beloved father being buried. Grief choked her, seizing her by the throat and refusing to let go. She clutched her throat and swallowed hard, forcing down the giant lump that rose again with each breath she took.

  She tried to blink away the tears, tried to remain strong as her father would undoubtedly have wanted, but it was too much. The guilt she felt was overwhelming. It was all her fault. Of that, she was certain. Had she not trusted Gisborne, or had she not defied him so boldly, her father would still be alive.

  “Friar, may I speak with you?” Marian asked, pulling him aside.

  “Of course,” he said.

  “Would you hear my confession?” she begged him.

  “Yes, of course. Follow me, my child,” he said.

  She followed the Friar into the church. It was dark, save the flickering of candles in the front. The Friar took a seat upon one of the pews and motioned for her to do the same.

  “Forgive me, Friar,” Marian began. “I have not confessed in quite some time. It has been years since my mother died, and I’m afraid I have not been allowed to attend church in some time. I have worked at the castle for so long.”

  “I understand,” the Friar said. “What is it you wish to confess?”

  “It’s not so much a confession at it is an admission of guilt, Friar. I feel this weight on my heart, and I feel it a burden I cannot bear alone, yet I’ve no one with which to discuss it.”

  “Go on,” the Friar urged.

  “My father’s death is my fault,” she told the Friar. “You see, Lord Gisborne came to ask for my hand in marriage and I turned him down. He became angry and violent, and he ransacked our home. I should have known he might hurt me through my father, but I left and I went to work, anyway. When I came home, I discovered him dead.”

  “How can you be sure it was this Lord Gisborne who did it?” the Friar asked.

  “My friend saw him leaving our cottage that morning,” Marian said.

  “Things are not always as they appear, my child,” the Friar said. “Did you confront this man? Did you give him the opportunity to explain himself?”

  “I did confront him, yes.”

  “And what did he say?”

  “I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of speaking.”

  “I see. Then you’ve already made up your mind about this man.”

  “I have. I’ve known for a long time he was nothing more than a monster. I allowed myself to be fooled by him once. I will not allow that again.”

  “What will you do? Are you afraid this Lord Gisborne will harm you?” asked the Friar.

  “I’m leaving town,” she said. “I cannot stay here.”

  “Is it wise to leave a town where you have friends who care about you after such a tragedy?”

  “Perhaps not, but how can I stay here when everything reminds me of my father? And when I will never feel safe from that monster?”

  “Running away is rarely the correct choice of action, my child,” said the Friar. “But you must make the decision for yourself.”

  “Thank you, Friar,” Marian said. “I should get back to my friends.”

  “Of course. And please feel free to visit me here at the church anytime you wish.”

  Robin and the others were smoothing over the top of the grave as Marian rejoined them. Robin tucked his arm around her shoulders and squeezed them comfortingly, and she smiled faintly up at him.

  “Are you ready to go?” Robin asked.

  Marian sniffled and said, “Yes, I think so. Might we stop by the cottage so I can get a few things?”

  “Absolutely,” Robin agreed.

  Back at the cottage, Robin slid off the horse and lifted his hands, helping Marian down. She paused outside the door.

  “Are you sure you’re ready for this?” Robin asked.

  “I cannot hide from it forever,” she said.

  The air inside the cottage was damp and chilly as she stepped cautiously inside it. Her father’s blankets were folded neatly in his empty chair, but she could clearly see the dark blood stains on them. Her eyes rested on them for one long, painful moment. Then she felt Robin’s strong hand on her shoulder.

  “I’m fine,” she told him, but it was not altogether true.

  Her hand brushed gently across the top of her father’s chair, her fingertips touching the edge of his blanket. She lingered for a moment, remembering him as he was. Then she squared her chin and quickly began to gather some clothing and mementos, packing them into a bag.

  “Let’s go, quickly,” Marian said.

  She and Robin left the cottage, and the others were still waiting in the yard keeping watch. They mounted Robin’s horse and headed back to the forest.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  The winter was harsh. Snow swept across the bleak, white landscape of Nottingham and its parishes with astonishing regularity, blanketing the world in a thick white carpet that often rose above the windows.

  The citizens of Nottingham were slowly starving, and no place was worse off than Locksley Village. Their mysterious benefactor, identified as Lord Gisborne, had stopped bringing them gifts, and with the harsh winter upon them, they had nowhere to turn.

  Gisborne had withdrawn into his castle. He’d not been seen in weeks, and even the servants rarely saw him.

  “He’s punishing them, Robin,” Marian said. “He’s punishing them all because of me.”

  “We have to do something,” Robin said. “We cannot sit idly by while the people of Locksley starve.”

  “What can we do?” Marian asked. “We can barely feed ourselves right now.”

  “We’re outlaws,” said John. “We can do what we do best!”

  “You are outlaws,” Marian reminded him. “I am but a runaway.”

  “John’s right,” Will interjected. “We’re outlaws. We can do anything.”

  “Blackstock’s got enough food in that castle to feed an army,” Robin said. “We could break in and steal some of it and deliver it to the people.”

  “How are we going to get in there and get out with all that food? We’ll never be able to carry enough,” Will said.

  “So we don’t steal the food, we steal his money,” Robin said. “We were going to do it before, we can do it again. But this time, we’ll be successful.”

  “I won’t be on the inside to help you this time,” Marian said. “It’s too dangerous.”

  “What would you have us do, Marian? Let our people starve to death? Most of them have little or no food, they’ve no money to buy any, and game is scarce even if they were allowed to go hunting, which they aren’t. We have to do something,” Robin argued.

  “How can I help?” Marian asked.

  “No. It’s too dangerous,” Robin said.

  “That’s what I just said, but you made your point. We must do something. So I’m going to help.”

  “No, you are not.”

  “I am!”

  “No, Marian! You...”

  “Robin,” John interrupted. “She may be useful.”

  “How?” Robin demanded. “How can she be useful without being put in harm’s way?”

  “She could go see Gisborne and tell him she wants to talk to him—keep him distracted while we go in,” John suggested.

/>   “I could tell him I’m ready to hear him out about my father,” Marian added.