His face grew even stonier. Blanker. Except for his eyes. They pierced her with silent rage, so dark they appeared completely black. She felt him shift, and knew he balled his fist, ready to silence her with the same violence he used against his underlings.
But she did not cease. Her emotions-exhaustion, loathing, fear-boiled over, spilling forth in words as sharp and cutting as his stare. She did not care if he struck her. Mayhap then she would be too damaged to attend the prince.
“And if I were to raise a hand to defend myself, you’d black hood me and raise me on the dais with a rope necklet about my throat as well, would you not? An evil, vile creature you’ve become, William de Wendeval. My father would suffer greatly if he knew how repugnant his ward had become.”
His hand flashed out and she nearly recoiled, but the wall was behind her, and instead of raising a fist to her face, he merely snatched up her arm once again. She felt the vibration of his rage in the fingers that closed over her, but he said nothing, merely directed her forcefully from the hall.
Her heart beating harder, she tried to pull free, suddenly sure he would kill her. She struggled and kicked, trying to wrench her arm away.
“Cease,” he spit, “or, by God, Marian, I’ll wrap my hands around your neck and stop you myself.”
She realized then that he was directing her not to the stairs leading to John’s chambers but to the ones that led to her own. Now her palms grew damp and her heart raced, but for a different fear.
Up the stairs he propelled her none too gently, and every glimpse of his face sent a new frisson of fear down her spine. She’d pushed him too far. She’d seen how tense and taut he was in the hall. He had plenty of cause to retaliate, and no reason to hold back.
At her chamber, he shoved the door open, sending Ethelberga scuttling from the anteroom without a command from him. He released Marian with a little shove and stalked into the rear chamber, leaving her to look after him with shaking and weak knees. Moments later he reemerged and walked past her in an angry swish.
At the door to the hallway, he turned, his mouth pressed tightly and his eyes angry. “You won’t be bothered any further this evening-at the least, not by me. The prince has declined your presence this evening. Rest well this night, my lady, for you will need your strength on the morrow.”
He closed the door behind him and she heard his heavy footfalls fade into silence.
Moments later, she heard the door open again and Ethelberga walked in. “He has placed a watch outside the door, my lady,” she said, her eyes wide.
And so he would ensure that she was bothered by no one this night.
He’d granted her a reprieve.
Marian slept poorly, but she did sleep.
She cared not to revisit the dreams that had haunted her slumber when at last she opened her eyes and found the sun streaming through the window slit. Instead, she tucked away the tendrils of images that had again left her body feeling skittish and yet expectant and called for Ethelberga.
After helping her mistress dress, the maid arranged her hair in two fat braids and twisted them into intricate coils over each ear while Marian chewed on a few mint leaves and some cloves.
When she entered the great hall to break her fast, she found the other ladies buzzing with news. A quick glance at the empty high table told Marian that John either had chosen to break his own fast elsewhere or had come and gone.
She was glad she did not have to face Will this morning. Yesterday had left her unsettled and discomfited, and he’d been a prominent part of last night’s dreams.
“Have you been invited, Marian?” Lady Joanna asked, her eyes bright with glee. “I have, and Catherine and Pauletta too. Poor Alys has not, but mayhap ’tis because she is a ward of the queen and not the Crown. He dare not overstep his mother.”
A prickle of unease trickled over her shoulders, though Marian didn’t know why it should. Mayhap simply because the prince’s name had been invoked. “Invited? I don’t believe I’ve been invited to anything.”
“To the prince’s gathering anight,” replied Lady Pauletta. Her eyes gleamed like those of a cat with its paw dipped in the cream. A mysterious smile tipped the corner of her mouth as she looked at Marian. “ ’ Tis too bad if you have not been asked. The prince is very generous to those who attend.”
“But even if you do not attend that, at the least you will be pleased to hear about the archery contest. The prize for that is a gold arrow, and ’tis certain that Robin Hood himself will make an attempt to win,” Joanna said in a placating tone. “We shall be able to see the great archer and how he handles his arrow.”
Pauletta and Catherine tittered along with Joanna, looking at Marian over hands covering their mouths.
“My, such a great bit of news this morning,” Marian replied. “What sort of gathering is the prince hosting?”
Pauletta’s feline smile widened. “ ’ Tis a very special night. I have attended in the past, for my lord has given such parties before. He calls it his night of living statues. There is a contest, and he is most generous to the winners.”
Now Marian understood the prickles at the back of her neck. Of certain, anything related to the prince would make her uneasy. But a night of living statues? Yet, mayhap her trepidation was misplaced. After all, Pauletta and Joanna seemed delighted at the prospect.
But then again . . . Pauletta’s smile had a wicked twist to it that reminded her of John’s depraved one.
Marian shrugged and took a piece of bread, examining it for weevils before breaking off a bite. “I do not know if I have been invited,” she replied honestly.
Rest well, my lady, for you will need all your strength on the morrow.
Had that been a warning? Or her invitation? Or both?
“ ’ Twill serve that fool Robin Hood well if he comes to the archery contest,” spoke up Alys suddenly. “He will be well and truly captured if he is so bold-and rightly so.”
“You would not say such a thing if you had met the man,” Joanna said, a dreamy look in her eyes.
“Indeed, you are mistaken, for I have met the arrogant ass.” The ladies all gaped at Alys, not only because her statement was so unexpected . . . but because her tone held such unusual bitterness.
“Did he not kiss you, then?” Joanna asked, a sly look coming into her eyes. “I trow if he had, you would not wish him ill. The man has a fine, sweet mouth.”
Alys merely looked at the other lady and replied, “He would not dare to do so. I find him arrogant and misguided. And I hope that he is caught by the sheriff and imprisoned for his crimes.”
Marian noted that Alys was not bloodthirsty enough to wish for Robin to be hung, and found that a bit interesting when coupled with the fact that Robin had obviously met her . . . but had not recalled her name. Or so he said.
She also noted the wash of pink over the fair-skinned girl’s cheeks.
“You had best hope that the sheriff does not capture him,” Pauletta said, her eyes slanted wickedly, “for he’ll do more than imprison the man. He’s as lief to tear him limb from limb with his bare hands as string him up with a black hood. I pray that he’ll attend the gathering tonight, for he’s one who fascinates me. So dark, so angry . . . I should love to be the woman who brings him to his knees.”
Catherine sniffed. “Not I. Every time I look at him, I vow, my blood runs cold.”
Pauletta merely smiled in a manner that Marian found both interesting and annoying. “Our dear Alys doesn’t find the sheriff frightening at all. Have you managed to stoke the man’s fires yet, my dear?” Her deprecating laugh indicated that she believed she already knew the answer.
Alys forbore to respond, but Marian noticed that the girl’s fair skin tinged pink again.
But before the conversation could go any further, the man himself entered the hall. He strode quickly to the front where a duo of barons stood next to one of the great fireplaces. He barely glanced at the ladies.
Marian stood, stuffing a last bit of bread into her mouth and selecting an apple to munch on as well. Not only did she have news to report to Robin via the oak tree-a warning that the archery contest was likely a trap meant to draw him out-but she was also revolted by the way Pauletta’s catlike eyes had narrowed, homing in on Will as he walked across the room.
How could she not find the man as repulsive as she?
Although Marian did her best to avoid Will for the rest of the day, hoping to evade any invitation the prince might wish to extend to her, she knew she was fighting a losing battle. If the prince required her to attend his revelry anight, hiding from Will would make no difference. And despite the fact that she didn’t wish to be in Will’s company, she also knew that if she had to attend, she would much rather do so with his escort than without it. It was simply a question of the lesser of two evils.
Thus, when she came down to dinner and saw that the high table was empty yet again, her relief was short-lived. The ladies buzzed with gossip that John had spent the day holed up in his chambers with his companions preparing for the night’s festivities. And no sooner had she finished her meal and attempted to slip unnoticed back to her chamber than Will appeared as if from the shadows.
His face was as haggard as the previous night, but when he bowed and offered his arm, his countenance remained expressionless.
“What, no reprieve anight?” Marian asked, then, without thinking, added, “I trow, Will, you look as though you’ve not slept in days.”