Disclaimer: I do not own Robin Hood, Little John, Queen Eleanor, et all; I have earned nothing from this endeavor save the joy that comes from the writing and the possibility of a nice comment or two.
Author's Note 01: This is the PG version. The original version is rated NC-17 and can be found in two parts on my LiveJournal account. The link for that is in my profile. To find the story, go to the Master Fic List post and then look for "The Excitement of Attraction" in the list.
Author's Note 02: This is a missing scene fic from series two, episode eleven "Treasure of the Nation."
The Excitement of Attraction
Queen Eleanor sat atop the sheriff's horse, her blue cape draped around her, making her look every inch the royalty she was.
John's admiration of her spirit and attitude had grown over the course of the day. She was no damsel in distress and had embraced the adventure. But he was glad their mission was over. That they could hand her off to Legrand's men and return to their usual mission. Her attention, though flattering, made him uncomfortable.
"You should follow the road down to the coast," Robin said to the queen. "There'll be a boat moored for you at the headlands. And Legrand's men will sail you to your friends in Ireland and then back on to France. In the mean time, I want John to travel with you until you feel safe enough to part ways."
The queen beamed down at John.
John's stomach dropped. "Robin?" he asked, questioning.
Robin clasped him on the shoulder. "John, with Legrand dead, that is one less man to protect her. I would go myself, but England is better served with me here and you escorting the queen. I want you to go with the queen and Legrand's men as least as far as Derby, if not all the way to Chester."
John glanced to the queen and back at Robin. "Surely, if the king was so worried about his mother's safety he would have sent more men to begin with." He did not want to go. He'd never been so far from Nottingham or Sherwood and though he hated to admit it, he was a bit nervous.
"I do not think the king realizes the threat Vaizey poses," Robin said. "It is my duty to ensure she gets out of the shire and the sheriff's reach. I will not have the death of the king's mother on my head. And you know there are not many people to whom I'd pass my responsibilities. But you are trustworthy and loyal and much more intimidating than I, and you are stronger."
"But Robin—" John glanced at the queen again and rolled his eyes at Robin. He lowered his voice. "I think she fancies me. She's the queen and I am an outlaw. It's not fitting."
Robin chuckled. "She is the queen and she can fancy whomever she pleases. You cannot say no to the queen. Now, go on. Legrand's men know the way—you are just along for protection. Get her safely to Derby and let her decide if she wants you to continue on with them. We'll see you when you get back."
John swallowed his chagrin and nodded. It wasn't that he didn't find the queen a handsome woman. He did. And she was well-rounded and well-endowed. Just the way he liked them. But she was the queen, for pity's sake. And he was a dirty, smelly outlaw—though she'd been too polite say anything. She seemed to like him, though, and he sighed.
She smiled knowingly at him and nodded, her eyes sparkling with excitement. Oh, dear... He nodded in return, but didn't smile.
"Right then, let's be off, shall we?" Her Majesty said cheerfully.
Legrand's two men took position on either side of the horse's head and started on their way. John stayed well behind the horse and kept watch for anyone trying to sneak up from the rear. Every once in a while, he allowed his glance to linger upon her as she swayed in the saddle in time to the horse's gait. A vision of her beneath him flashed through his mind. With a harrumph, he pushed it away. Her safety now rested on his shoulders. He couldn't get distracted—didn't want to get distracted by those types of thoughts.
"Are you all right back there, Big Bear?" she asked.
He heard her amusement. Bloody hell. "Yes, Majesty," he called back. He was going to kill Robin when he returned home.
They reached Derby at supper time. As a group, they made their way to the Mucky Duck, an inn and pub on the outskirts of town. Arrangements had been made in advance, and their small party was escorted to a private dining room. It was a small room, longer than it was wide, with a fire blazing in the hearth. A long table with benches ran down the center of the room. They were served a hot meal of roast pig, roasted potatoes, and boiled vegetables. A large pitcher of ale rounded out the repast.
The queen insisted that Legrand's men eat with her and John. After all, they'd traveled all the way from the Holy Land to fetch her and deliver her back to France. It was the least she could do, she'd said.
John was quite surprised to find the meal inferior to Much's. Not that he would ever say so but on fear of pain of death, and he grinned at the thought.
"What is so amusing, Big Bear?" the queen leaned toward him and asked in a low voice. A voice meant to entice. It was more effective than John wanted to admit.
They were alone for the moment. She'd sent Edward and Dennis to secure the upstairs rooms and oversee the filling of a large tub of hot water in her chamber.
John glanced down at his platter and then into her lovely brown eyes. "This food...my friend—Much—we always tease him about his cooking, but he's actually a pretty good cook. He would never let us forget it if I told him how much better his roast pig—on the rare occasion we enjoy it—is than this."
She raised a brow.
"Not that I'm not grateful for the meal, Majesty, forgive me for sounding that way." He hated this—he was an outlaw, not a noble. He did not know how to behave around a queen. He was going to put his foot in it eventually.
She shook her head. "You do not sound ungrateful, John, but you're very welcome. And you're right that this isn't the best meal I've ever eaten, but I'm grateful for it as well. I was able to enjoy it with you," she said and winked.
Heat crept up John's face and he hoped that any color stayed hidden under his beard.
Apparently not. Her throaty chuckle reached his ears and he allowed it to warm his heart as well. Other parts of him stirred, too. Parts he'd thought long inured to physical attraction. But it didn't matter. She was the queen and he was a nobody, despite her flirtation. It was nice, to be sure, but it could go nowhere. He knew that. Took comfort in it.
"Come, John, it is time to retire." She rose and picked up her cape, draping it over one arm.
He nodded and went to the door. Stepping out, he perused the immediate area and found it clear. He waved a hand to her and allowed her to pass ahead of him to the small corridor.
He got another enjoyable view of her royal backside as they climbed the stairs.
"Do not think I do not feel your eyes on me," she murmured.
Another rush of heat suffused his face. "I mean no offense, Majesty."
She chuckled. "Indeed…. No offense taken."
Two doors stood ajar at the end of the upstairs corridor, across from one another, and Dennis and Edward stood waiting, chatting quietly. They bowed as the queen reached them.
She stopped at the entrance to the larger room and spoke to the men. "Dennis, Edward, I bid you goodnight."
"Yes, Mum," said Edward with another half bow.
"John will guard my door from the inside."
"Yes, Mum," Edward said again with no change of expression.
John stared at her, his eyes widening in surprise. "What? Your Majesty, surely, it would be better for me to stand watch outside your door," he argued. "Take turns with these men."
"Pah," she said with a wave. "The inn is surrounded and being watched. And who knows I'm here but the proprietor, you three, and those watching? No one." She shrugged. "I would feel better with a man on the inside. And I want you."
John could not say no. She knew it and he knew it. As Robin had said, one doesn't say no to the queen.
"Yes, Majesty," John said with a sigh, following her inside and closing the door. He remained just inside it.
She'd hung her cape on the hook near the door and circled the room, coming to a standstill on the far side of the room near the window.
The room was maybe twelve large paces wide and two dozen long. A fireplace graced the outer, longer wall with small square windows on either side. The small tapestries over the windows had been pulled back and the window shutters stood open. The early evening breeze wafted through the room, bringing with it the scent of food from the inn below. The bed sat tucked in the corner opposite where the queen now stood.
Two large towels sat folded on the square table in the corner under the window on this side of the fireplace and across from where John now stood just inside the door. The waning sunlight continued to light the sky beyond the windows.
A large tub was set up in the center of the room in front of the fireplace, wherein crackled a merry fire illuminating the room with an orange-golden glow. Steam rose from the scented water and John remembered that day long ago when Robin had first been outlawed. He and Much smelled of rose petals. His mouth tipped slightly upward at the recollection.
"I like it when you smile, John. Makes you appear less formidable, more approachable."
John harrumphed. He and the queen regarded each other from opposite corners of the room.
"Now...not be insensitive, but I bet it's been awhile since you've enjoyed a nice warm bath." She smiled that warm smile again and John's insides quivered. "It has, Your Majesty."
"Well, then please...enjoy." She held out her hand toward the tub.
Shaking his head, he said, "I'm afraid I'd leave the water too dirty for you to use, if that is your intention. You first."
"Why, Big Bear, how chivalrous."
John's heart fluttered. The nickname was starting to grow on him, especially when she used that certain tone of voice. "Yes, Majesty. I'll just step outside. Tap on the door when you're finished." John reached for the handle.
"No, John...that's not necessary."
"Majesty," he said in a loud whisper, "it wouldn't be proper."
She shrugged. "It wasn't proper for Richard to gallivant off to war leaving his people to fend for themselves and young Locksley to take up the cause." She walked toward him. "Nor was it proper for John to hold me hostage in France, now was it? I think I much prefer this impropriety to those." She stopped in front of him and gazed deep into his eyes. The she turned her back to him, tilting her head forward and revealing a lightly freckled expanse of skin. "If you please..."
He swallowed the sudden urge to kiss the royal neck.
He shook his head. What was he thinking? This was wrong in so many ways.
Instead, he inspected his hands. They were mostly clean. His fingers trembled a bit as he undid the buttons along the back of her gown. She shivered at his touch and John's parts twitched in response. He pulled his hands away from her person. Mercy, what was he doing? Undressing the queen? She could say anything and he could be hanged for his impertinence. Not that he believed she would, but still.
She stood motionless. "John...?"
Aye... She was the queen. He was damned either way. If he was going down, it may as well be for something he did do rather than something he didn't. He returned to his task. When he was finished, he took a step back. "Your Majesty."
She tugged her gown from her body and stepped away. John turned to face the door.
"I didn't take you for an innocent," she said. "Not at your age."
He heard the soft splashing sounds and an "ahh..." as she entered the water.
"No, Majesty, but it has been a while and you are the queen. I don't think a little courtesy is uncalled for."
"You are a true gentleman. Turn around."
"Majesty, please..."
She chuckled, deep and throaty, and it went straight to his groin.
Damn.
"It's quite safe," she said. "I am submerged to my neck. Turn. Around."
Turning slowly, he scanned the room and found her just as she'd said. He rested his back against the door. Her hair remained in its netting and her crown sat regally upon her head. She made a charming picture—like a little girl playing princess and not wanting to end her game just to take a bath. He couldn't help the smile.
"You are laughing at your queen?" she said, appearing stern.
Criminy! "No, majesty, I beg your pardon. I meant no offense. I was just thinking how like a young girl you looked, playing princess."
She laughed then. A throaty sound that made the water ripple and his body betray him. He didn't dare move to ease the tightness in his breeches lest he draw her attention.
"You are also easily tricked."
"Majesty," he admonished. "It is difficult to know what may or may not offend. Not many royals are as..."
"Loose?"
"What? No."
She laughed again.
"Majesty..."
"Relax, John. I am not easily offended. Can we be friends? I do not have many of those. I need friends who are not afraid to speak the truth—the truth I need to know, not the truth I want to hear. Can you do that? Can you be one of my true friends? It's lonely at the top. I'm sure you can sympathize. It's probably pretty lonely at the bottom, as well."
He nodded. "I'd…I'd like that."
"Good. Now, you were going to say I am...what?"
"Beautiful. Vivacious. Impudent."
Another husky laugh filled the room. "Ah, John...you do know how to flatter a woman." She moved to rise from the water.
"It is true, Majesty..." John said, entranced by the pale flesh emerging, water rushing down her body. Her linen shift clung to her, now see-through and outlining her curves. It left little to the imagination and John could only stare.
She reached for a towel and broke his trance.
He spun around and faced the door again. "Apologies, Majesty." What was he doing? He didn't need any images of her, naked or otherwise. It was going to be hard enough to forget her as it was.
"No apologies necessary. I haven't had a man look at me like that in years. I daresay it was quite flattering and a definite boon to my feminine sensibilities. Now, it's your turn. Get undressed."
"Majesty, really. I don't think—I think it might be best if I..." He spoke to the door and pointed at it, indicating the world beyond the room.
"John."
He whirled around in surprise to find her as close as she could be without actually touching him, the towel wrapped around her body, thank heavens.
She tilted her head back slightly so that she could look into his eyes, her own brown eyes dark and fathomless. "Listen to me, John... I like you. I like you very much. It's no secret that I am attracted to you. I want to share a bed with you this night though I will not demand that you to do so. However, you will bathe and enjoy the simple pleasures you have gone without for so long as a small token of my appreciation for all you have done for my son and for me. Do you understand?"
John swallowed. "Yes."
With a single nod, she stepped back and said, "Good. Now...get undressed. We'll send your clothes out for laundering."
"Yes, Majesty."
"That's another thing. If we are friends and if we are going to share a room and a bed for the night, I would prefer not to be majestied to death. Should we—" She waggled her brows. "—do the deed, I would much prefer to hear my name on your lips than my appellation."
John's mouth open and closed several times like a fish. Heat flooded his face. "Majes—"
"Eleanor," she insisted. "Say it, John."
He remained quiet.
"Say it."
"Eleanor."
She gave him a soft sweet smile and his heart and resolve melted.
"That sounds nice. Say it again."
"Eleanor..." John knew in that moment that he would be taking the king of England's mother to bed and that he would be using her name in the throes of passion. She'd made her interest and attraction clear and she'd left it up to him.
"Good. Now that we've gotten that taken care of, you—" She pointed at him and then at the tub. "—in the bath. Now."
She moved to the window and studied the view, offering him some privacy to shed his clothes. Unlike her, he removed every last stitch and then climbed into the water which was no longer so steamy. But it was the warmest bath he'd had in a dozen or so years and he couldn't help the groan that escaped when he sat down. The tub was large, but not quite large enough. He still had to bend his knees to fit, but only a bit.
He sank beneath the water and scrubbed his hair, allowing the water to penetrate it. When he came up, the quee—Eleanor was just closing the chamber door.
"You shall have clean clothes on the morrow," she said, taking a seat on the edge of the bed and holding out a cake of soap.
He nodded and took it.
She continued to watch him.
Pushing aside his modesty and his embarrassment, he began to wash. Lord a mercy did it feel good to be in warm water and have soap to wash with. It had been the previous summer that he'd last been able to submerge himself completely and, even then, it was in the cold waters of the River Trent.
He scrubbed the soap into his head and then dunked himself to run his fingers through his hair and get all the soap out.
And then he was done and it was time to get out of the water.
He met the qu...he met Eleanor's gaze. Neither said anything and the tension in the room thickened.
He couldn't stay in the bath forever, nor did he want to. Grabbing a hold of the side edge of the tub, John lifted himself enough to get his feet underneath him and he stood. The water ran down his body in rivulets from his hair and beard.
He stepped from the tub and grabbed the toweling that had been provided. After several swipes across his back and arse, around each leg in turn and a quick rub of his head, he was dry.
Now what? He stood naked, the towel hanging from his hand.
Earlier, when she'd been finished, he'd kept his eyes averted.
She felt no such compunction and openly studied him. His chest, his arms, his gut. His manhood, his legs, even his feet.
Then she stood and met his gaze. "You are a handsome man, John. I'd be honored if you'd take me to bed."
"What about them?" He cocked his head toward the door.
She did not trivialize his worries with a smile or a joke. She held his gaze steadily. "They are well aware of the vagaries of royalty, John. They have been trained well, have been rewarded handsomely for their services, and will say nothing to no one. I assure you."
With a curt nod, he reached for her and hooked an arm about her middle, pulling her flush against him. Her arms went about his neck, her upturned face beautiful in the fire light. She'd taken her crown off and let her hair down at some point. It hung in soft dark waves to her waist and it brushed against his arm.
With his free hand, he tunneled his fingers into her hair and cupped her head, tilting it a bit to the right as he slanted his mouth across hers in a gentle slightly open-mouthed kiss. It had been a long while since he'd done this. It was like those innocent courting days, only better. He knew what to do and there wasn't that first rush of blind passion, the eagerness to couple and be done with it.
This was to be drawn out and leisurely. Each moment, each caress, each kiss to be savored and delighted in. They had all night.
~rh~
Eleanor awakened by degrees and smiled as she remembered where she was and whom she was with. The presence in the bed with her was large and warm and snored lightly, too, which bothered her not at all.
And she was naked. She didn't sleep that way often, and it had been quite some time. She rolled toward John and studied him in the gloom. She was sure it was no longer early morning, otherwise she would not be able to see as well as she did. The fire was dead and provided no light and the windows were shuttered and covered.
John lay on his back, one hand resting on his chest, the other covering his manhood. She grinned. Peasant or royal, it mattered not. It seemed all men felt the need to protect themselves in that most vulnerable spot.
Fondness welled within her for this man. A man she would probably never see again after today. With Richard's retinue surrounding her now, she was no longer in need of John's services as protector. She would continue to Chester and travel on to Ireland and John would return to Nottingham and Sherwood.
The thought of never seeing him again saddened her, but he was a simple man and travel and society was just not his cup of tea. Well, they had as long as she determined this morning to say good bye. Being the queen had a few perks.
She rolled toward him, kissed his shoulder and placed a hand on his chest, ruffling her fingers in the thick patch of hair there.
He woke instantly but didn't move, as if getting his bearings.
"Good morning, John," she said softly, so as not to startle him. "Do you remember where you are?"
He grunted and she chuckled.
"Did you sleep well?" she asked.
John turned on his side to face her. "Aye. I haven't slept so well in almost a decade."
"I'm glad." She leaned in and pressed a light kiss to the side of his mouth. "The sun is well up though we cannot tell."
John made to roll over. "Then it is time to get up and get going."
"What if I disappeared and went to live in the forest with you?" she asked.
John chuckled. "I've no doubt you would do mighty well. We'd just need to assess your fighting skills and teach you what you don't know."
"Thank you, Big Bear." She snuggled into him. His heart had calmed into a slow, steady beat.
"For?"
"Not telling me it was a stupid and foolish idea."
"If you can cook, Much would love to have you."
Now it was her turn to chuckle. "As a matter of fact I can cook. And quite well."
"Well, then, mayhap I should abscond with you."
"I don't think you'd get too far."
"No..." he agreed.
They settled into silence and lay quietly a while longer. Eleanor enjoyed the simplicity of moment, but knew she could not put off the day, her life, or her and John's impending good-bye any longer.
When she finally slid off John's bulk, she said, "Well...I suppose it is time."
John sat up and pulled her close one more time, pressing a kiss to her forehead and then her lips. "Thank you, Ellie. This is a gift I shall remember and treasure forever."
Offering him a small sad smile, she patted his hand and slid from the bed. Her heart tightened at the prospect of never seeing him again. And along with her clothes and crown, she donned her station and her title, and put away maidenly fantasies.
When she brought him clean clothes from the door, she was no longer Ellie. She was Queen Eleanor of Aquitaine.
John dressed quickly and exited the room, off to secure the corridor and private dining room so they could eat before they set out.
Eleanor wandered the small simple room that had become a haven and a sanctuary for a single night. She would never forget being in his arms and being loved by him. Being a woodman's woman.
She mused on that life. A small cottage in a small village—not in Nottingham, of course—where you knew your neighbors and they knew you, and getting through each day was the most important thing. Loving your man and him loving you. Hmm...
A swift hard knock brought her from her musings.
"Yes?" she called.
"Majesty, it is time," John called back through the door.
With a last glance at the bed, Eleanor left the room. Down in the dining room, John sat with Dennis and Edward while Eleanor sat alone. She knew it was his way of showing Dennis and Edward that nothing happened, although she knew they knew better. She didn't do this sort of thing often, but she'd had her share of clandestine lovers, and Dennis and Edward had been her personal body guards for many a year.
It was also his way of dealing with the return to the status quo. She knew and understood. She certainly didn't blame him, but it still hurt.
~rh~
Eleanor mounted the horse she'd ridden the day before. Dennis and Edward took their places at the beast's head. They would meet up with additional men on the road.
She looked down at John.
He stood in the small courtyard, standing strait and still holding on to his quarterstaff.
"John…thank you for your assistance. Your service to queen and country will never be forgotten."
He dropped to his knee and then rose. "It has been my pleasure, Majesty. Safe travels."
"And to you." With a nod to John, she gently kicked the horse into motion. Just before the horse rounded the corner, she looked back.
John raised a hand.
She winked at him in return and he smiled and then turned for home.
~Fin~
Look for the sequel: "The Consequences of Attraction" coming in January 2011.