Marian awoke in the middle of the night feeling chilly. She rolled over in her comfortable bed in Locksley Manor and reached for her husband.
Robin wasn't there. Not only that, but she could tell he hadn't been for some time. The bedclothes were cold.
Sitting up and blinking her eyes, she looked around the room. Moonlight flooded the chamber, illuminating the richly carved furnishings and exquisite hangings. The fire had burned down to embers, which accounted for her being chilly. She felt a pang of yearning for her husband's warm presence, and sighed as she pictured him downstairs, in his office, struggling over figures in his ledgers that wouldn't add up.
Rising from their bed, she ran down the stairs in bare feet. Except for an occasional hooting of an owl outdoors, everything was still. Their two tiny daughters, Ellen and Grace, along with their nurse Mattie, slept peacefully upstairs in their beds, while the rest of their servants were quietly sleeping in the servants' hall.
Quietly stepping through the doorway to Robin's office, she took a moment for her eyes to adjust to the candlelight, and the fire, burning its last dying flames, in the grate. Robin sat at his desk, raking tense fingers through tousled hair, staring resentfully at the huge tome spread open before him. A goblet of watered wine stood untouched on his desk, and his face wore a troubled expression.
"Let me see if I can help solve the problem," Marian offered.
Robin looked up at her, his smile brightening his face. "I could use a second pair of eyes right now. Especially such a beautiful pair," he added, winking.
"A sharp pair would serve you better."
"That all depends on what I'm being served."
"Grow up, Locksley," she teased. Standing behind him, she wrapped her arms around his neck and rested her chin on his shoulder, to run her eyes up and down the columns of numbers. Where had he made his mistake?
For some unexplained reason, Robin always seemed to transpose numbers in his head. 37 would become 73...42 would be 24. She didn't know why he did it...she only knew he couldn't seem to help it, and it caused him endless frustration when he tried to tally the figures in his ledgers. To him, this had always been the worst part of holding his lands and titles. But he worked tirelessly at his tedious task, and never complained of doing his duty.
There it was! "There, Robin," she said, pointing to a number near the bottom of the page. "You've given the Jerrald familty 21 children, when they really have a dozen, which is quite enough. And you added 62 head of cattle here, when it should be 26. See? Try to add it now."
He did, amazed at how quickly she had uncovered his mistakes. He reached and pulled her onto his lap. "How did you do that?" he asked.
"I know you," she replied simply.
"Well, thanks to you, that's the paperwork done," he said, closing the heavy book with relief.
They smiled, then began to kiss, softly at first, but soon their kiss deepened, as they felt themselves swept away again.
They had been married for five years, and were even more deeply in love and devoted to each other than ever, if that were possible.
"Come back to bed," Marian suggested, her fingers playing with the curls at the nape of his neck.
"Is that an invitation, or an order?" Robin asked, flashing her his devilish grin. "Either way, I'm happy to oblige." He blew out the candles and offered her the goblet that he hadn't drunk from yet.
She enjoyed a sip of the diluted wine, then handed it to him, and they passed the cup back and forth, slowly draining its contents. Snuggling closer on his lap, she rested her head against his shoulder, listening to his heart beating against the silence of the still October night. His arms tightened around her, but neither made any move to go. It was lovely just to take their time and enjoy this moment first.
At last, Robin lifted her chin and began to deliberately kiss her mouth, sending thrilling waves of warmth cascading through her. But when he slid an icy hand down her gown, she jumped.
"Your hands are freezing!" she objected.
"Sorry," he chuckled. "Can you think of a better way to warm them?"
"For you, maybe. But we really must get some sleep, Robin. We need to be presentable tomorrow."
"When have we not been presentable, I should like to know?" He was still grinning, and he wasn't ready to give up yet. "I was thinking, we should go upstairs, and I could rekindle the fire...and maybe the one in the grate as well."
"You're very clever. But stop doing that...it's distracting. I want to make a good impression on the Prince and Princess. They're your cousins, after all. And for once, we can't be late."
It was true. 15-year-old Prince Arthur of Brittany and his sister, 18-year-old Eleanor, "the Fair Maid of Brittany," were visiting Nottinghamshire, and were housed in Nottingham Castle. They were the children of Geoffrey Plantagenet, deceased brother to King Richard and Prince John, and his wife, Constance of Brittany. Constance's mother, Margaret of Huntington, was the sister of Robin's father. Robin hadn't seen them since he had attended the infant Prince Arthur's christening, just before he left to fight in the Crusades.
Prince Arthur was a very important personage in the realm. Before King Richard had departed on his Crusade, he stipulated that, having no legitimate heir of his own, his nephew Arthur should succeed him to the throne. This rankled Prince John, who should have stood next in line to inherit the kingdom. And even though Richard had now been married to Queen Berengaria for many years, he still had no legitimate heir, and he still favored Arthur over his treacherous and unstable brother John, or his bastard son, Philip.
But Richard was relatively young and healthy, and was expected to live for many more years. It seemed that if Saladin's fiercest warriors had failed to kill him, then nothing else under Heaven or Earth could.
"Very well, my love, off to bed. But you realize, of course, this only helps my cause."
"Get a fire going in the grate, and then we'll see," she said, her eyes promising to fulfill his wishes.
Halfway up the stairs, they were stopped by a child's scream. Robin's eyes met Marian's for a split second. "Ellen," he said, bolting the rest of the way up the steps, with Marian at his heels.
Damn Gisbourne! Even dead, that bastard continued to torment Robin's family! Three-year-old Ellen, seemingly happy and confident during the day, was tortured in her sleep by nightmares remembering Guy of Gisbourne kidnapping her and locking her in a chest. Robin knew what it was to be tormented by nightmares, and he'd do anything to stop them from haunting his precious little girl's dreams.
Running into the girls' room, Robin saw the nurse, Mattie, standing over Ellen's bed, helplessly wringing her hands over the child's terror. One-year-old Grace was awake and crying, as well.
Gathering Ellen in his arms, he pulled her from the bed and carried her as he paced the floor of her room. Marian picked up Grace, and attempted to calm her cries.
"Daddy!" Ellen screamed.
"I'm here, Boo," he said.
"The black man, Daddy! The black man's got me!"
"I've got you, Ellie," Robin said.
"There is no more 'Black Man,' " Marian said, over the cries of her baby. "He can never hurt you again, Precious."
"Master, this is the second time this week," Mattie complained. Marian shot the nurse a withering look. They knew how many times it was.
The girls' cries eventually calmed as their parents comforted them.
"Daddy, Gracie and I want to sleep in your bed," Ellen said.
Robin and Marian's eyes met, indicating mutual approval to the suggestion.
"Come on, then," he said, as if leading the way to a party. He was stopped by the nurse's objections.
"If I may be so bold, Master...My Lady...is that wise? The children will come to expect it, and throw a fit if they're made to sleep in their own beds." Especially that Grace, she was thinking.
"Our children do not 'throw fits,' " Marian said proudly.
"And when they do, we will handle it," Robin smiled. "Goodnight, Mattie. Try and get some rest."
Placing the girls in the middle of their bed, they climbed in on either side of them, surrounding them like a warm cocoon. Ellen rolled onto her side and fell back to sleep, but Grace thought it was time to play. When Robin rose to put more wood on the fire, she took his spot in bed and kicked her feet as hard as she could, laughing aloud.
"Settle down, Apple Blossom," Robin said, highly amused by his daughter's antics.
"Come here, Gracie," Marian cooed. She adored her strong willed little baby whom others found so difficult.
Robin climbed back into bed, and held Grace high above his head in outstretched arms, as she kicked her cubby legs and squealed in delight.
"More! More!" she cried.
"Give her here," Marian insisted. "You're as bad as she is, isn't he, darling?"
Marian set her baby on her belly beside her, and lulled her to sleep by rubbing gentle circles on her back. Smiling sleepily across from each other, with their two girls sleeping peacefully between them, Lord and Lady Locksley experienced another moment of Heaven.
...
In another even more opulent bed, in Nottingham Castle, Prince John was drinking wine with his latest mistress beside him.
"You couldn't be more right, my dear," he whined. "Why are you the only one who appreciates me? The only one who understands my Destiny?"
"Maybe, Sire, it's because I know you better than most."
"Yes...you are fortunate in that regard. But my family knows me! My father, the late King, always wanted me to rule, you know that, don't you? At least he did until he was dying and named Richard his heir. Richard! Ha! How unfit is he? Can't even sire a son! Only one, and a bastard! Whereas, I might not have any heirs off my harpy of a wife, but I have dozens of bastards, do I not?"
"Dozens, Sire. You are...quite magnificent."
"Yes...I am, aren't I? But tell me again of your plan, my dear."
She paused, for effect. "An accident...an archer meaning to shoot a poacher...mistakenly shoots...someone else."
"I like it! Why has no one thought of it before? So simple, yet so fulfilling!"
"The plan is already in place, My King."
"Excellent! And then, there will only be Prince Arthur to dispose of. How exciting! Yes, I'm so pleased we met again, Isabella, my pet."
"As am I, Sire...as am I."
Isabella of Gisbourne smiled her most dazzling smile at her lover, Prince John of England.