His calloused hand tenderly swept up from her fingertips to her wrist, a sheepish glimmer in his eyes. Marian flinched in discomfort. She felt cornered against the door jamb as Sir Guy of Gisborne crafted a shy smirk, poising himself to pounce for the kill. He leaned in towards her pouting lips just as she ungracefully dodged left, yanking herself from her position and slipping back into the hall.
"I really must go." Marian hastily spat out.
"Marian," He grumbled with a discontent that rooted down into his belly. Guy shifted his eyes to her and impatiently blinked as she began to wring her hands together. How many times had they danced this waltz? "You cannot do this."
"You cannot expect me to suddenly love you."
"You cannot tell me that you spend your nights wishing to not be lonely and saying you need company in the castle. Then you are offended that I grant your wish?"
"This is not my wish. I should have been clearer when I asked for my friend from Clun to stay for a few nights-"
"You must stop playing these games," a menace swirled into his voice, "You are a grown woman, grow up and get married already."
"Grow up and leave me alone." She quipped back before spinning on her heels and stamping off down a stone staircase. Guy boiled within his leather armor, itching in his veins with frustration. He pounded a coiled fist into the gray wall and began to sulk off, glaring daggers at all who passed him.
It was clear now, like sun rays filtering through windows, that he had evolved in Lady Knighton's eyes. No longer was Gisborne a nuisance. Now he was a game, an accessible way to entertain herself day or night from down the hall. But he was done. Guy of Gisborne was finished with being sewn to marionette strings for her sake. Then again, he has said this to himself many times before, often over a drink. He never was good at keeping promises. And yet he couldn't get the rattling out of his head. No matter how many women he hired to entertain him or how many drinks he could fit inside of himself, he constantly worried about how to impress her. Every fiber of muscle in him wanted to leave a mark in her mind that got her as addicted as he was. Perhaps, then, the key was not to leave desire in her – maybe it was the opposite.
Guy straightened his gloves as he reappeared in the hall for the Sherriff's party. Distinguished guests milled around and squeezed together in the castle's main hall for a night of gambling and feasting, no doubt to line Nottingham's pockets, but it never seemed to deter them. Plenty of beautiful women laughed and dined tonight. Nearly all of them had their own money and appeal. He pondered what Marian may think of him if he floated through the halls with feminine candy strewn from his arm, boasting her to inflate his ego to bursting. Would she become jealous? Passionate? It was worth a shot.
Hs clear blue eyes drifted from table to table to find his latest mistress. She would have to be better than Maid Marian, he imagined, if she were to become ignited by the sight of his companion. That one was too tall, her far too fat, her with no chest. After multiple rounds through the crowd, Gisborne bit his lip. This may be much more difficult than he assumed. At the neighboring craps table, he noticed a woman with deep auburn hair trickling down her back, tall slim frame leaning elegantly over the table to roll the dice. It took only an icy stare at another patron to create a hole where Guy could put himself.
"Doing well I see." He began with a tight smile, eyes exuding his charm. As the woman regrouped her dice she had a light grin.
"For now I suppose. And you?"
"Not much for gambling, I already have more than enough money for a single man." He noted. In Gisborne's mind he was fishing with irresistible bait. The woman nodded and rolled yet again.
"I see."
"I didn't catch your name."
"Abigail. Abigail Stewart." She said, turning to him.
"Sir Guy of Gisborne." He reached for her hand and gave it a kiss as Abigail's roll ruined her game. She handed back most of her chips and led him back to her dining table. Candles burned down in chandeliers that dangled from the ceiling rafters and lent the faint smell of beeswax through the room. The pair did the standard introductions – what they are interested in, where they are from, and quite frankly Gisborne couldn't care less. Every few sentences he would sneakily examine for Marian down the hall.
"So," he said with distraction, "From Derbyshire you say? All I've ever seen out there are boring old men and apple trees. Thank goodness you're much prettier." Guy gave a mild chuckle while Abigail laughed, but his pleasure didn't last long. She gave a wholehearted laugh that lasted to him an eternity. The noises she made were nothing less than a copy of geese; he swore clashing swords made a more digestible noise. Damn, this really would be difficult.
"Maybe you should accompany me sometime –"
"No."
"Oh, you don't travel?"
"I have no interest in you." He bluntly sneered before scanning for a new woman. Abigail sat in shock for a moment before huffing off in a storm. What if there was no one better than Marian? As she walked into his thoughts, she also walked into the hall, a cellophane smile painted on for Vaisey's sake. Guy pursed his lips and frantically made another sweep with his pale blue eyes.
"Excuse me, my lord?" Came a shy call. Gisborne looked up to see a waitress before him with a tray of mugs balanced on her petite hand. She looked no more than nineteen or twenty and seemed wildly shy, "It's not really my business, but I thought you may want a drink."
"A man could always use one." He smiled.
"I've been serving that lady all night, I'm sorry you had to deal with her too. I didn't realize geese gambled." The waitress giggled and slapped her hand over her mouth. Gisborne laughed and glanced over to Abigail again. "I am so sorry, that was so inappropriate. Forgive me."
"It was funny." He grinned. She seemed to flush with embarrassment while setting down the mead. Guy snapped back into focus and relocated Marian, seeing her edge closer, watching her look around the room.
"Sir Guy." The waitress curtsied to leave, but he stretched out a gloved hand and gently wrapped it around her slender wrist.
"Won't you sit with me, have a drink?"
"Oh, no, I really can't," She explained with wide eyes, "I can't afford to lose this job."
"You know my name, so you must know I run this castle. I won't let you be fired… just one drink." Guy flashed a bright white smile that lead her to blush again. The waitress bit her lip knowing she was making the wrong choice but excitedly nodded anyways. Gisborne stood to pull out her chair and sat after she had.
"Thank you for the drink, Sire."
"Beautiful blonde hair like that, it's the least I can do." He assured her before checking up on Marian. He fell back to the gravity of his table and noticed her green eyes twinkle beside candles as she took a guilty sip of alcohol. She really was genuinely gorgeous – small and feminine, wavy blonde locks, rosy cheeks and shy submissive attitude. This he could work with. Marian would be eaten alive by the cancer of jealousy by the end of the night, he imagined. The Lady Knighton approached moments later.
"Guy, good to see you."
"Marian." Gisborne made sure to sound uninterested in her greeting.
"I don't believe we have met," she moved on politely, "my name is Marian."
"Good evening, Lady Marian," the server chirped, "I'm Lucille. Well, Lucy."
"My absolute pleasure to meet you." The brunette warmly added before smiling to Guy and leaving. He made sure to watch her go with intensity counting down the seconds until she turned back to him. Sure enough, she gave another glance to his blonde companion.
"So you work in a tavern near here?" Guy's baritone voice asked.
"Yes, The Maiden's Room. It's down by –"
"Yes, I know it."
"Lovely… maybe I'll see you in there one day." Lucy flirtatiously smiled, holding the butterflies down in her stomach as he gave her another handsome look.
"I think you're gonna have to." Guy took another drink of mead as he watched Marian's discomfort grow. Perhaps his plan could work after all.
