Marian could feel the frustration welling up inside of her again. It happened almost daily – every time she thought about the way Robin had left her. Left their future. Left everything he said he wanted for the so-called glory of war.

"Darling," her father's voice called her away from her thoughts, "Are you all right?"

"Fine," she replied.

"You haven't moved from that spot in ages. What's wrong?"

Marian put down the dress she was mending and stood up, "It's nothing. I think I just need to go for a ride. Get my mind off of things."

"Would one of those things be named Robin?"

Marian stopped, halfway to the door.

"This has nothing to do with him," she said, well aware that her father didn't believe her, "nothing at all."

The freedom of riding was something that Marian had enjoyed since childhood. She treasured the freedom that could only come from being on the back of a horse, cantering through the forest. There was nothing to worry about here, only the birds and the trees and the sunshine.

…And Guy of Gisbourne.

Marian slowed her horse to a stop, facing Gisbourne on the path.

"Marian," he said, riding closer, "Lovely to see you out on this fine day."

"Indeed," she replied cooly, "What are you doing out? Playing errand boy for the sheriff?"

Gisbourne's eyes narrowed, "Actually I was on my way to visit you. What great fortune that we should meet in the middle."

"I suppose great fortune is one way to put it," Marian muttered under her breath.

"Might I accompany you on the rest of your ride?"

"Guy, it would not be appropriate. I have no chaperone."

"Do you not trust me?"

Marian looked at him, and was surprised to find herself tempted to take him up on his offer. She hated everything Guy stood for as the sheriff's henchman. But away from the sheriff … perhaps he was a different person entirely.

"Very well," she said, "You may ride with me."

"Thank you," he said. There was a sincerity in his eyes that made Marian wonder if his feelings for her were more real than she had first thought.

When Guy first began attempting to win her over, Marian had dismissed the idea immediately. She told herself it was because of who he was and what he stood for, and while that was a large part of the reason, she could not ignore the small voice in her head telling her the truth – she was not ready to give up on Robin. It had been years since he had gone away, and for all she knew he could be dead, but still she could not give up on the man who had broken her heart.

"Marian," Guy began, his horse settling into pace alongside hers, "I must ask you something."

"As long as it is not my hand in marriage," she replied lightly. He turned red, and she wondered if perhaps he was closer to that question than she'd realized.

"No," he said, "Although you know that one day I hope for that. What I want to know is why you seem to hate me so much."

His words were full of emotion, and Marian turned to look at him.

"I do not hate you, Guy," she said carefully, "It is your work that I detest. And the way you do the sheriff's bidding without question, and –"

"And the fact that I am not Robin of Locksley."

Marian stopped her horse, "How dare you! That is not it at all."

"Isn't it?" Guy asked, "Tell me honestly, Marian. Everyone knew that you two planned to wed before he left you for the war."

"He was doing his duty."

"He left you."

Marian felt tears begin to form in her eyes. She hated what Guy was saying. He was right, of course, and they both knew it. But why did he have to say it? She asked herself a thousand times a day why Robin had chosen glory instead of marriage, a sword and shield instead of a home and a wife. Yet no matter how many times she asked herself why, she could never find an answer.

"Perhaps… perhaps he did not love you as you thought. Perhaps he did not love you as I love you."

Marian looked at Guy. His dark, handsome face and troubled eyes. She thought for the first time that she could love this man. It would never compare with her love for Robin, but it could still be real. She could help him fix all that was wrong in Nottingham, she could ease the pain of the ghosts that haunted him. She could have a family with him.

She could do all the things she had wanted so desperately to do with Robin. Was it time to stop waiting for him? To lock their relationship away into the past?

"Marian," Guy had pulled his horse up next to hers, and lifted her chin gently with his hand, "Please say something."

She looked at him, his face so close to hers. She found herself wishing desperately that it was Robin who sat next to her on horseback. Robin who lifted her chin and looked at her as though she were the only thing in the world that could possibly matter. The way he used to look at her.

"I don't know what to say, Guy," she said quietly, "But I will consider what you've told me."

"My confession of love is worth only your consideration?" he asked, a touch of bitterness in his voice.

"Your love is worth more than that," she replied, "But I am not ready for it, and I do not know when, or if, I ever will be."

She leaned over and kissed him lightly on the cheek.

"I am sorry," she said, and turned her horse about to ride for home.

That night, as she lay in bed, Marian thought about her encounter with Guy. A man she could love, in time, if she tried. But she would spend her life trying. Spend her life telling herself that she would not have been happier with Robin. And that was a lie.

No matter what he had done, no matter if he was dead or alive, her heart belonged to Robin of Locksley. She did not know what would happen if he came back – whether or not she could forgive him for what he had done. But she would always love him.

It was impossible, she thought as she drifted off to sleep, to fall out of love with Robin.