November 12, 1192.
I hate Christian. I don't understand how he doesn't get that. I've stood him up more than twice, had the guards remove him from my garden, and deliberately had his meat under-cooked. And he knows I've done it all. Yet he keeps coming back. It is driving me crazy. Sure. I know. Lots of women my age would love to have the most handsome man in Nottingham knocking down your door. My father thinks it's wonderful. I hate it.
I continued to hate Christian as I sat on my balcony reading. The twilight cast long shadows across my open bedroom. Unable to concentrate, I closed the book and set it on the table by my chair. The door creaked and I turned to see Effie walking into the room.
"Miss Henley, your fa--" she began.
I cut her off, "What does he want now?"
Effie suppressed a smile. "Your father wants to see you in the drawing room." She put the tray she was holding on the bed, walked over to me and put her hands on my shoulders. "You've grown, so. It seems like it was only yesterday that Christian was asking if you could play outside."
Oh, no. Christian? Is that what Father wanted to talk to me about?
I looked Effie in the eye. "What about Christian?"
She seemed to have realized what she was saying. "Um, nothing dear. You must go to your father at once." She put a hand to her forehead, grasped her tray with both hands, and preceded me out of my room, a frustrated smile on her lips.
I turned out of the hallway, down two flights of stairs and past the kitchens. Hearing someone whispering, I stopped. Careful not to be caught eavesdropping, a terrible thing for one of my status to be doing, I pressed my back to the wall and leaned close to the open door. Two of the maidservants were rapidly gossiping about something.
"When?" One of them gasped.
"Today! At about noon." The other one's voice betrayed her excitement.
"Do you think she'll say yes?"
"Of course! He's the most handsome man in town. How could she possibly reject him?"
I pulled away from the wall and continued on my merry way to the drawing room. When I reached the oak double doors, I put on my calmest face and stepped through. My father was seated at the wooden desk on the far end of the long room. He looked up as I came through the doors, saw it was me and smiled broadly. Rising, he held out his hand and walked toward me. I took his hand, and he led me to one of two chairs. The normally soft fabric suddenly felt rough and uncomfortable. Father sat in the other.
"Marian, Christian has asked for your hand in marriage."
"No," I stood.
"Dearest, Christian is a very competent man and a very good--"
"No, Father."
"I really think you should--"
"Did you not understand me?"
"Now, Marian," He was beginning to look uncomfortable.
"Good night, Father." I left him there. But I was summoned back when Ragen addressed both my father and me.
"Sir, m'lady, we have a criminal who was caught stealing from the sheriff and his family. The sheriff would like your say in the matter. He requests that Lady Henley accompany you."
Yes, the sheriff wanted Father's say in the matter. But it was his son who requested my presence.
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I rubbed my eyes, as Father and I walked to the sheriff's door. Christian answered and allowed us inside. Father went immediately to deal with the criminal, Christian grabbed my hand roughly and led me outside. Around the side of his house, Christian pushed me against the wall and kissed me. Hard. I tried to pull away, but he had me in an iron grip. I turned my head to get this to stop, but all he did was begin kissing my cheek, my neck and my shoulder. He had pinned my arms to my sides against the house, so I kicked him hard and began walking back up the hill toward the manor. Getting up, Christian hurried after me and grabbed my by the waist, turning me around and once again shoving his tongue in my mouth. For a moment I did nothing. I let him think he was having his way with me, then raised a hand and slapped him across the face. Looking at him, I could see a red mark that resembled my fingers.
Before Christian could try anything else, I went inside the house. I stood in the room my father was in, watching the sheriff tying a man's hands together. I felt Christian's fingers snake around my waist and automatically stamped on his foot. Cringing, he withdrew his hand from my side.
The man wasn't facing my way, so I couldn't see his face. The sheriff yelled at him mercilessly while Father looked on with disappointment. After one particularly loud shout, the sheriff grabbed the man by the hair and threw him to his knees. He hit the floor right in front of my feet, and looked up at me. His eyes were the color of a stormy sea when all hope is lost for those on the ship. Mouse-brown hair fell in front of his face, a perfect face. My breath caught in my throat and my heart skipped a beat. Christian looked at me strangely.
The sheriff picked the man up by his tunic. He was tall and thin, but he was strong. his fists were clenched even though they were bound, and his face was determined.
The sheriff spat in his face. "Robin Hood, then? Let's see how you like the gallows, shall we, mate? Stealing from a sheriff is not to be taken lightly."
R&R!