Lady Thief (Page 7)

He heaved out a sigh and turned, sat on the stairs, and shoved his big head into his hands. His fingers worked through his hair and he lifted his head.

“Christ,” he grunted. “What the hell are you doing here, Scarlet?”

I lifted my shoulders, and he pushed off the stairs, coming closer to me. He sat beside me and stared at my neck.

I covered it with my hands. “Mind your business, John.”

“Not going back tonight?” he asked.

“Later,” I said.

“It’s already later,” he told me.

Tuck came back out with a big bowl of soup for me, and I set into it while Tuck laughed at John. “Kicked you out, did she?”

John just glowered, but I looked to Tuck. “You mean Bess? What’s going on?”

“Mind your business; wasn’t that what you said?” John snapped at me.

Tuck’s belly rolled with his laughs. “You foolish young things,” he said, shaking his head. “So tell me of the menfolk, Scarlet.”

I swallowed a mouthful of soup. “They’re well enough. A few are taking sick, but they’re not ill cared for. Most are just worried and eager to be out. Seems they’ll be done soon enough. Wall’s almost finished.”

“Maybe then the louts they call knights will hightail it back to London,” John grumbled.

“Not likely,” said Tuck, settling himself into a seat. “They’re settled and can live for free—very tough to shake them off. Not that I’m complaining; they still bring coin to drink here.”

“Until they run out of coin and decide the Crown needs your ale,” I reminded him.

He shrugged. “That day, I’ll mind.”

“Any other news?” John asked.

Gisbourne’s coming back. I opened my mouth to tell him, but I didn’t want to speak the words aloud. “The prince will name a new sheriff when he comes.”

John whistled. “That’s news.”

“Who do you reckon it will be?” Tuck asked. “Has to be a landholder, right?”

“Right,” I said. “It’s meant to be a landholder in the county, but if there were someone the prince wanted for the job, it’s easy enough to have it done. Rob got Thoresby to petition the prince, but I don’t know if he’ll choose him.”

“At least Thoresby knows the people,” Tuck said. “But I can’t think he’d be so natural at being sheriff.”

“He’d be fair,” I said with a shrug.

“You mean he’d listen to Robin Hood,” Tuck said.

“Rob’s fair.”

John’s eyes went to my neck, and him looking made Tuck look. Tuck stood up, his body tight, making me remember how much of him were muscle. “Rob didn’t do that to you, did he, Scarlet? Figured you got into a scrape, which ain’t unusual for you.”

“It’s not like that, Tuck,” I said, but I weren’t much good at lying about it yet.

He looked to John. “John, tell me the truth.”

“Rob’s had some rough nights, Tuck. He didn’t know what he was doing, but he did it,” John said, staring at the bar.

Tuck’s eyes were hard on John, like somehow it were his fault, but Tuck nodded. “Scar, you’ll stay here till the morning. We’ve got extra beds.”

Beds that were warm and safe besides. I wanted to—it would be so simple to just nod and go upstairs, but I shook my head. “I’ll go back, Tuck. It’s not the way you think.”

His big paw fell on mine, and I looked up at him. “Scarlet. I’ve known my fair share of rough men, and I know Rob ain’t that. But you don’t give him the chance to do it twice, you understand? You’ll stay here.”

Being told what to do made me want to run out and do anything but. “Tuck, stay out of it,” I told him sharp. “You don’t know what’s going on. And I wouldn’t never give up on Rob because he’s had a bad time.”

Tuck shook his head. “There’s no two ways about bruises, Scar.”

I glared at him. “There ain’t no two ways about loyalty.” I sighed, shaking my head. “It’s a bad situation, Tuck. We all know that. But I believe in Robin almost as much as the Almighty. And I won’t give up on him.”

Tuck turned to John. “She goes, you go with her.”

John sighed and leaned back in his seat, but he nodded. Tuck tossed his towel down. “Drop the bowl in the kitchen when you’re done, Scar. I’m going to bed.”

“Can I make you stay here?” John asked.

“No. Can I make you tell me ’bout Bess?”

He chuckled. “Not a chance.”

John walked me back to the monastery, quiet as we made slow work of the crunching, frozen ground. When we reached the grounds, he turned to the warming room and I just nodded toward the infirmary. He met my eyes, and they understood more than I liked. He nodded to me.

The infirmary were empty of needy souls, and so there weren’t a fire in there. Still, there were blankets and cots and I took both, curling up in a corner and sleeping. It had been an awful long day, and I just wanted a few moments of true rest.

When I woke, the sun were up and I could hear the monks moving about outside and the bell ringing. I felt colder than when I went to sleep, and figured it might be worth the risk to go to the warming room now. Rob wouldn’t be there still.

I went quiet from the infirmary, pushing on the door to see a body blocking the other side of it.

“Rob,” I whispered. My heart started to pound, but it weren’t like I were afraid of him. I only didn’t want him knowing why I might choose to sleep in a cold empty room rather than with the band. Didn’t want him even thinking on it.

“Morning, Scar,” he said.

Slipping out the door, I let it shut behind me and sat beside him slow. The sun were fair warm, and it weren’t as cold as most days. He looked at me, his ocean eyes stormy and wide. His hands went slowly up and he looked at my neck, wincing like I hit him when he caught it full. It felt worse. “Christ Almighty, Scar,” he said, letting his hands fall.

“What’s happening to you, Rob?” I asked. My voice fell so soft I weren’t sure he heard. “I don’t care about the bruises. I don’t. I been bruised before. I’m just so frightened for you.”

“These nightmares, Scar. I don’t know what to do.”

“Please, Rob, can’t you tell me of them?”