Scarlet

I stroked my fingers light along the strips, pressing them gentle as I stared at the back of his head.

“Time for the reckoning, Rob,” I said soft. “What did you mean back there?” The muscles in his shoulders rolled, like he were trying to move or turn, but I touched his back to keep him still. Maybe also to keep it so his face weren’t to me as I said it; I weren’t sure. “I know . . . I know you thought I’d die in there. Thought you failed, thought all kinds of wrong things. I ain’t going to be murderous if you didn’t mean it all.” Lie. If he hadn’t meant it . . . I weren’t sure what I’d do. Maybe go back to Gisbourne and let him finish the job for me.

“If you’re not going to let me move, you damn well better come where I can see you, Scar,” he said, and his voice were awful rough.

Careful and slow, I went round front of him, my back to the fire so its full dancing light shone bright on his face. He took my hand, tugging my fingers out from a fist and twining his through. He gripped it tight. “Christ’s bones, Scar.” He heaved a sigh, and his hand squeezed mine. “You changed everything. Everything. That day in the market in London, you don’t know what my life was like before that, when I came home and found everything just gone. I had nothing. I hadn’t a soul. And then you appeared with your magic eyes, and you just changed everything.”

Every pain flew from my bones and I stood still as a pillory. “But . . . you hate me.”

He sighed, and his eyes flicked up to mine. The storms were gone, the seas the kind of calm that comes after waves have wrecked a ship. “I hate myself. I wish I didn’t feel anything. I wish I could protect these people—you—like I want to, but I can’t. I don’t. In the Crusades, in my whole life . . .” He trailed off, his eyes and hand left mine, and his throat worked, the sound fair loud. “There’s so much I have to atone for, so much I’ve done wrong. If I were a better man, I would have sent you far from here long ago, but I haven’t, and I can’t. I wish I could stop thinking about you, Scar, stop caring about you. Most days I wish I never met you, because it is torture.” A dry cough came that half sounded like a laugh. “More than, you know, just bodily torture.”

I quieted for a moment, chewing my lip. “You called me a whore, Rob. You said awful things.”

“Ah,” he said, and his hand took mine again, tight. “Hurting you is the best way I know to punish myself. And, despite that I’m not much proud of it, I can’t truly control myself when I see you even looking at John.” He chuckled. “Or Jenny Percy.”

“Christ, you’re a stupid boy,” I said, shaking my head.

“And you still haven’t said what I want to hear.”

I met his eyes. “What do you want to hear?”

“If I’m a fool to even think about you.” He looked down. “If you’re with John.”

I smiled a little. “Are you a fool? Of course. I ain’t the sort of girl you ought to have. The sort you deserve.” I pressed my mouth to his knuckles, then looked up to his ocean eyes. “But tucked inside of you is the only place my heart’s ever been at home.” A grin took over my mouth. “And I weren’t never with John.”

His fingers loosed mine, and before I could cry their loss, his trembly hand slid over my cheek. “I’ll keep your heart, Scar,” he whispered. “If you keep mine.”

I nodded. Fair shy, I touched his face, running over a bruise on his cheek. He let me, closing his eyes and dropping his hands from my face as I touched his skin.

“Gisbourne won’t stop looking for me, even with the Sheriff gone.”

His hand gripped my knee. “You can’t ever go back to him—you know that, yes?”

“Yes.”

He nodded. “He won’t have such an easy time of it now. The new sheriff won’t be named for a while, and until then, the land reverts to King Richard—and Prince John’s care while he’s away. Gisbourne lacks authority here now. And when a new sheriff is appointed, they’ll have to start with rebuilding the keep. We’ve got time.”

He groaned, and my lip twisted. “Do you want to rest?” I asked.

Rob nodded, and I helped him lie on his side, lowering him down to his pallet by the fire. Moving closer to him, I hung there, unsure and leaning over him. I were fair shy to do it, but I kissed his cheek.

He caught my hand and tugged me closer before I moved away. “Stay here,” he said. “Please.”

“I wouldn’t go nowhere,” I told him.

He tugged again. “Stay here,” he said, and kept tugging till I were against him. He pulled my hips against his, my back to his front, and held on tight to me. His breath huffed into my hair and shivers broke like fire sparks all over my body.

I squeezed his hand. “We’ll keep fighting. For the people, and for you and me.”

“One day, we’ll all be free.”

I sighed, looking at the glowing tongues of the fire. “Or we’ll be dead. But then, I suppose that’s a kind of freedom too.”

He twisted our fingers together again. It seemed to be how he best liked my hand, like we could tie us together as easy as braiding fingers. “Let’s try not to be quite that free, Scar.” He were quiet for a moment, and his nose nudged my head. “Should I be calling you Marian now?”

I sighed. “Not sure. I never wanted to be Marian, but it’s not as easy as just saying I never were. Or that all I am is Scarlet.”

“Maybe I’ll call you Lady Gisbourne.”

“You can try. See how long you live.”

He pulled me closer, and I took a breath, letting my shoulders roll back against him. His breath went slow and even, and it settled in my chest till I breathed the same. I were cut and clobbered, but holding his hand, deep in Sherwood, even as a married woman, I never felt so safe, and I never felt so free.