I'm a Robin/Marian and Robin/Isabella shipper, but I love Robin and Isabella together more. I wanted them to end up together in the show.

For the great and beloved Penelope Clemence/Amaranthe Athenais on her birthday!

Enchante, Madame!

Somewhere in Sherwood Forest

"Why did you help me in Locksley today, Isabella?" Robin asked her with a smile. But this smile quickly disappeared, and he added, "Prince John is a madman and a usurper setting fire to churches and poisoning wells, but I feel that it is not the reason for your compassion towards the peasants."

Isabella smiled playfully. "There is another reason. And don't tell me that you didn't need my help."

His light blue eyes darkened, almost to azure. Robin was breathing hard, his body quivering with barely-leashed desire. Isabella might have been a sister of his archenemy, but she was a beautiful woman. Looking at her, he knew that he had to do or say something to break the silence. He took a step forward and reached for her hand, and brought it to his lips. "You look stunning today, Isabella."

She smirked at him. "You served King Richard the Lionheart, and he speaks only French. You should speak this language as well."

Robin nodded. "I do speak French."

Isabella's eyes latched onto his, and he admired with fascination her curly dark tresses that cascaded over her shoulders. "Lord Huntingdon, where is your gallantry? I believe a gallant man would say to a beautiful woman, 'Enchante, Madame!' Are you not going to say these words?'"

A laughing Robin kissed her hand and saw a provocative smile rise from her quivering lips. Her hand trembled in his, and he squeezed it gently. "Isabella, you know that you look gorgeous. Regardless of the language I use, it won't change the apparent."

"It won't," she agreed in a satisfied voice, flattered by his compliment.

He felt her hand trembling, and he tried to reassure her. "Don't be nervous. I won't hurt you." She was so enticing that he reached out and picked up a few strands between his fingers. "Your hair is silken," he whispered. He smiled at her. "Dark hair and blue eyes suit you well."

"Thank you," a charmed Isabella whispered.

"Isabella…" He stopped himself, his heart pounding harder as guilt stirred there. He released his heavy breath. "Isabella…" He would see that she wanted to hear tender words from him, but he could not tell her that he was falling for her or was in love with her – because he would never love her.

"I should hate you," she whispered, her voice sodden with negative emotion. "I should hate you for putting me through hell for the past weeks. I cannot stop thinking of you."

Looking at Robin Hood, Isabella thought that he was the most handsome man she had ever met. Acting on impulse, she leaned into him and kissed him on the lips. She was thrilled to feel his lips on hers, and when he kissed her back fiercely, her heart started pounding madly in her chest. Robin kept his hand tangled in her hair until he was certain she would not stop him and wanted more than kisses, then lowered it to the smooth curve of her throat, feeling the fluttering pulse beat he found there.

As they kissed with hungry, biting kisses, unable to get enough of one another, they began to undress each other, discarding their clothes and throwing their things to the forest floor. They were alone in this clearing, and nobody knew where they had gone after their escape from Locksley. They parted for a moment and smiled at each other, and then embraced again, enjoying the feeling of their nakedness as their bodies pressed hard against one another. There was no shame between them at all.

When Robin ended the kiss and stepped back, Isabella swallowed hard as she saw the appreciation and desire in his eyes before he lowered his lashes over his hungry eyes. When he opened them in a moment, she could see raw, naked desire there instead of his earlier playfulness. He cupped her breast with his hand, feeling its heft, its shape, and its warmth, making Isabella moan and lean into him. And then, with a groan, he pressed her hard to the trunk of a nearby tree, each of them feeling the sizzling heat of their bodies that seeped into their bones. His one hand still cupping her breast, he moved his other hand up to her face and cradled her flushed cheek while her fingers plunged into his hair. He gazed down at her and smiled, and her tongue came out to moisten her lips.

"I can stop this if you wish, Isabella," Robin offered hoarsely. "I shall not force you to be with me. I never do anything women don't like. I swear I shall not—"

"I want this with you!" Isabella shook her head, not wanting to interrupt the moment of happiness she craved to have for so many weeks. It was the moment of her escape from pains and sorrows, and she could not lose it. "What are you waiting for, Robin Hood?" she prompted him to action.

Her eyes fluttered shut, and then there was nothing but that feathery and tender touch of his lips against hers, of two hearts full of pain seeking oblivion. Isabella sighed, her arm curving around his back, her fingers exploring the hard muscles of his back before threading their way up his nape, tunneling through tawny hair that was heavy and astonishingly silky. As she felt his hard erection pressing against her hip, desire washed through her. Melting against him, losing herself in the kiss he had just deepened, Isabella spread her legs and took his arousal in her hand.

For a moment, Robin broke the kiss and gazed down at her, breathing heavily, amazement and desire flashing in his eyes. Smiling at him, Isabella drew his head back down to hers and captured his lips with hers again, this new kiss harder and increasingly demanding one. With a soft moan, she pulled him closer, one of her hands roaming over his back, thrilling to the feel of hard muscle, her other hand caressing his shaft, and his groan mingled with her whimper of desire. Robin pressed his face into her breast, and his body was quivering and aching with a need so fierce. He wanted only to plunge his throbbing rod all the way to the hilt inside of her delicious depths.

Robin's mouth slanted across hers, his kiss more forceful now, his tongue driving deeper into her mouth. She spread her legs widely, and he was now poised between her thighs, his hard manhood pulsing with eagerness to claim her as his. Her lips parted in a gasp that sounded like a groan of pleasure and invitation, and Robin filled her so full and deep that Isabella had no time to brace herself as the first wave of pleasurable sensations coursed through her. Robin buried his head into her bare shoulder and thrust into her again and again, and she wrapped her legs around his hips.

Robin moved deeper and deeper inside her, and her fingers caught in his hair, raking through the mass of it. He could feel his body channeling all the heat and all the feverish hunger into the savage rise and fall of his hips. He pounded into her like it was the last time they would ever do this, each thrust was deeper, harder, and stronger; maybe it was the last time for Robin because he lived a dangerous life and could die anytime. The heat was so fierce and the sensations so shockingly savage that all perceptions of reality were shattered and only pleasure remained.

Robin needed release from all the pain in his heart, the grief over Marian's death was still there; he didn't love Isabella, but their physical encounter was helping him find some distraction. Isabella was attracted to Robin, thinking that she was on the verge of falling in love with him, but now she wasn't thinking of love, consumed by the heat of his body and wishing to gain pleasure from their encounter which she never had in her married life. They both wanted to be taken to the highest peaks of ecstasy and forgetfulness, to soak and drown in pleasure. They both shuddered in the throes of an orgasm so strong and dazzling that a blinding haze blinded them, exploding in their heads.

After a few moments of silence, Isabella laughed, kissing his hair as his head still rested on her shoulder. "Oh, Robin!" she panted. "Robin, you made me so happy!"

Her words pulled Robin out of pleasurable slumber. Instead of feelings of delight and satisfaction, anger seethed in his temples, and every inch of him began to shake; anger at himself, for now he thought that he shouldn't have slept with her. "I'm sorry," was all he could tell her.

"Robin?" she breathed, her heart tightening.

"I'm sorry," he repeated, not even able to look into her face.