Disclaimer: I do not own Robin Hood, Robin, Marian, et al. I have earned nothing from this endeaver save the joy that comes from the writing and the possibility of some nice feedback.


Making it Up

"Marian, I'm sorry. . . ." Robin called after her. She stalked along the path back towards Knighton, angry at him. Again. When would he ever learn to shut it? "Marian, wait." With a sigh, he set off after her.

"I have nothing to say to you, Robin of Locksley," she said primly as her plush hips swayed and her shiny dark hair bounced.

Though in possession of a woman's body, she was still a girl. That fact left him frustrated more often than not. But not today. Today she amused him. His amusement, however, would not go over well at all so he swallowed the urge to laugh. It wouldn't do for her to see him laughing when there really wasn't anything funny about the situation.

She'd asked what he thought of her new gown and he'd told her: he thought it flattered her figure but that the color didn't suit her skin color and because of that he wasn't keen on it.

Was he supposed to lie?

Sixteen-year-old maidens sure were a prickly bunch. "Marian, I'm sorry. Stop. Please. Let me make it up to you."

She came to a halt and turned around, now looking curious. "And how do you propose to do that?" she asked, her tone prissy and her mouth pursing in disapproval.

Robin smiled at her. Though amusement filled his chest as if someone were pumping air into it, he fought the desire once again to laugh out loud. She was so very predictable.

As he jogged toward her, her eyes narrowed in suspicion the closer her got. When he yanked her off the path and into the trees, she yelped in surprise. He noted with satisfaction, however, that she didn't protest or struggle.

He snaked one arm around her waist and tugged her against him, slipping one knee between her legs. Large blue eyes looked up at him, flickers of maidenly passions now flaring to life. Her hands rested on his chest, clutching handfuls of his loose-fitting linen tunic.

Her hair was silken against his palm as he clutched a handful of it and tugged her head backwards.

"Are you finally going to kiss me?" Her soft words slid over him like a warm breeze.

"I thought I might," he murmured.

Excitement flashed in her eyes and his gaze was drawn downward as her tongue snuck out and slicked between her lips, leaving them shiny and even more tempting.

He returned his gaze to hers.

"Tell me you're sorry," she demanded.

"Sorry for what?" He closed the gap between them, his gaze flicking between her eyes and her mouth.

"Insulting me."

"I insulted your dress, Marian, not you," he said before eliminating the remaining space and touching his lips to hers.

Her eyes swept shut and she strained toward him.

Using his hold on her hair, he tilted her head slightly to the right and fitted his mouth snugly to hers. His other hand slid from her waist to the curve of her bottom, bringing them into closer, more intimate contact.

Her slight gasp allowed him entrance to her mouth. Moving his mouth over hers, he slid his tongue across her teeth and along her tongue. She responded in kind and they kissed playfully for a time. She was a quick learner. But then he was the teacher.

One hand now cupped his neck, playing in the hair there, the other clutched his shoulder. Her breaths came in deep languid draughts and felt the rise and fall of her breasts against his chest.

Ending the kiss he rested his forehead against hers.

She sighed. "That was . . . that was lovely. Can we do it again?"

~ Fin ~