Manna from Heaven
Chapter 6
Love is not...
Guy rocked back on his heels.
Who did this to her?
He blinked rapidly, thinking. Had anyone accosted her, attacked her, Joffrey most certainly would have told him. He was certain Genevieve definitely would have said something to him. Truthfully, in the very short time he knew the woman, he could not fathom her not putting up a fight. Truthfully, he imagined her attacker was in equally appalling shape! Gently, he set his candle on her night table, next to the bed, careful to tuck the bed curtain away from the small flame, and inspected her arm, pushing the sleeve up to her shoulder.
Bruised. Badly. It continued up past her sleeve and onto her shoulder.
Working slowly and patiently, so as not to disturb her sleep, he turned the quilt down and looked closely at her side, her leg. They showed none of the injury her arm showed. With much care, he covered her back up, almost missing her sigh of contentment as she rolled over her onto her right side.
He checked to make sure the window shutters were secured before leaving her room and making his way to his own. Stripping down to his skin, he slid beneath the sheets, staring at the canopy above him, before drifting off into a troubled sleep of his own.
~~~...~~~
The night was bitter. It was something Guy never got used to; the incredible heat of the desert in the day, and the blood-freezing cold at night.
The town was deserted, not a soul stirred but himself.
"GISBORNE!"
Guy shut his eyes. Hood. Again. How he wished, how he prayed the man had killed him...
The voice had come from the right, so Guy backtracked and took a street to the left, hoping to put distance between himself and the outlaw. In running, he paid no attention and in turning the corner, he barreled into Vaisey.
"Someday," the man was cramming another fake tooth into his mouth, "he will catch you and kill you." He smiled up at the knight, a bright red light blinking madly from the inserted tooth. "I plan on selling tickets to watch! I love sport! And there is nothing more sporting than a killing!" And with that, he turned on his heel and walked off, his robes billowing behind him. "Hood! He's this way!"
Guy snarled in disgust and retreated to another alleyway.
"GISBORNE!"
Again, Hood's voice, now closer and seeming to come from the sky. He looked up, worried now of seeing the man on the rooftop.
He backed into Allan-A-Dale.
"Not tryin' t'be funny Giz, but I think 'e might be a bit perturbed, you killin' 'is woman an' all."
Guy went to grab him by the throat, but in the end, he only grasped empty air.
Curses that normally were not heard from the man's lips, fell like the heavy rain outside his window.
It was raining? Where?
Again, he clung to the walls, cold and hard against his back. He turned another corner and ran into Marian.
Marian in the saucy red outfit. She glared at him with her hands on her hips. "She's a leper, you know. We all are." She turned and sashayed off. "We are all lepers. Lepers, lepers, nahnyah nyah nyah nyaaaaaaaah nyah!" Her sing-song voice echoed from the walls.
"She loves Robin, you know." Guy turned to see Isabella, leaning against a wall in the shadows. "She never loved you. Nobody loves you." Her face turned into that of a gargoyle's. "You are such a loser. You'll never amount to anything but a lackey!"
Guy threw his knife at her, but it hit the wall, bouncing into the sand, his sister fading into the night.
There was singing behind him. Leaving his knife in the dust, he followed the voice into the square, where Genevieve stood on side of the fountain, dressed in the outrageous black dress he found her in. High heeled shoes and her back to him, she swayed enticingly to music in her head. Hearing him approach, she turned on one toe to face him, slightly off-balance, her hands and free foot waving erratically, before catching and balancing herself. As she came to rest, she began to undulate, her hips rotating slowly and her hands in her hair. "You have a problem, darling." She nodded to his groin.
"Aye, I do," he whispered breathlessly. "Too many demons...and you."
"And me," Genevieve's response was jovial. She smiled and bent over, showing substantially abundant wares. Her fingers went to the edge of the short dress and began to lift it, showing more of her legs, her thigh... the top of her stocking. Her knees and hips were rotating in such a manner, it made him sweat. "Funny, I don't hear you complaining."
Guy inhaled, trying to get himself and his libido under control. It wasn't working. He tried to talk sense to this... she-devil. "I love another."
She jumped from the low shelf and stalked towards him, much like a predator. He, the hunter, had become the hunted. Before he could move, she grabbed him by his sword belt, pulling him towards her. He was powerless to stop her and it dawned on him he wouldn't have if he could. As he pressed closer, she unlaced his trousers, the cords whipping in the wind, freeing him, exposing him to the desert air. Despite the cold, he was hard, getting harder by the minute. One hand wrapped firmly around him, the other grasped him at the back of his neck and pulled him towards her. "She's dead, darling. Dead and cold and rotting in a sandy grave." The tip of her nose bumped his, teased him, her lips brushing, taunting his own. He opened, trying to capture her breath, but she danced away, this game, tantalizing. She continued to stroke, making him harder, her lips teasing his very breath. "She's as lifeless as an inflatable doll! Wouldn't you rather have a real woman? One who actually loved you? Who would give you the moon?"
One moment, she had her hand wrapped around his cock, her breath on his lips.
The next, he was on his knees, dressed, clothing situated, a broadsword, his bloodied broadsword, at this throat...
...wielded by Hood.
"I should kill you."
The Black Knight's eyes fluttered shut. "Please," he begged. "End this now."
"I should send you to hell where you belong!"
Guy swallowed hard and lifted his chin, giving Locksley an easier target.
"But I can't."
Guy's eyes snapped open. Again, he was standing, his pants undone, Genevieve standing in front of him with her hand yet again wrapped around him. She was stroking, stroking him and he was so close...
"Hood can't send you to hell."
Guy closed his eyes, allowed himself to fall into a state of no return.
Close... sooooo... close...
Her hand stroked down, taking the foreskin with the cup of her palm, her thumb caressing the exposed head. "No, can't send you to hell."
He began to quiver, unable to stop, even if he wanted to. "Wh...wh...why not?"
Her grip firm, his seed ready to burst, she pulled him close, pulled him down and whispered in his ear...
"You're already there."
Guy woke up and immediately bent over, his orgasm overwhelming. When he was completely spent and he regained his breath, he kicked the soiled sheets to the foot of the bed and moved to grab the pillow to put over his face so he could scream his frustration.
But he was stopped by the sight of a still quivering arrow, embedded in his headboard, inches above his head, Hood's voice echoing in the night.
"GISBORNE!"
~~~...~~~
It was pouring when Guy awoke. The room was chilled and he lay naked shivering in the bed. Grabbing the arrow still implanted in his headboard, he broke the shaft, throwing both pieces in the rubbish basket. He damned himself for after making sure Genevieve's shutters were closed and barred, he forgot his own.
Genevieve!
His fury renewed, he threw on a loose pair of pants and a tunic - heavy rain meant no one was stirring anywhere, least of all Vaisey - and bolted from his room, to Genevieve's door.
Genevieve was up, dressed and brushing her teeth, when That Man came pounding on her door. Still scrubbing, she threw the door open and took great pleasure in watching his eyes bulge. He probably thinks I'm rabid; serves him right! Waving at him to take a seat, she poured a mug of water - gag nasty this stuff hasn't been filtered or anything - to rinse her mouth, which she spat in the chamber pot, in a most unlady-like manner. "Good morning to you, Guy," she began informally. She took in the loose, comfortable clothing. "Casual Friday at work today?"
"'Tis Wednesday and I have no clue as to what 'Casual Friday' is."
Genevieve started to explain what Casual Friday was, but she knew it would be lost on him, so she changed the subject. "Do you not have any clothing but black?"
"Black suits me," he dead-panned. "I would like to see your arm."
She thrust out her right arm. "Why?"
"Not that one. The other one." He pulled her sleeve up, inspecting it.
No bruises.
"Strange. I could have sworn-"
"What?" She was truly perplexed.
"Last night. Your arm was bruised. It looked as if you had been beaten." Guy still had a hold of her arm, his grip gentle as he turned it back and forth.
"I don't recall inviting you in my room last night."
Guy was focused on her arm and the rash underneath her upper arm. "You had a difficult night. I grew concerned and checked on you." He snorted, but didn't turn her loose. "I suppose it was just the shadow from the candlelight. Tell me," he stroked the rash, "what is this?"
"What?"
Guy momentarily stopped the inspection of her arm. "What is this?"
"It's an allergy and what do you mean I had a difficult night?"
The man blinked. "You had a difficult night." Genevieve continued to stare at him, her arm still held by his hand. Guy decided to embellish his story a bit. "You were crying in your sleep. You could be heard into my room." His thumb gently rubbed the reddened area of the implant site. "I tended to you."
"I don't believe you."
He never lifted his eyes, continuing to inspect the slightly angry, red flesh. It perturbed him that she would openly call him a liar and he forced himself to keep his touch gentle. "Who is 'Lamar'?" Gisborne had to bite back a smile at her sharp intake of breath. Ah, a nerve.
"Where did you hear that name?" It was a harsh whisper.
Guy rubbed around the edge of the inflamed skin, seeming to be engrossed. "That was who you were crying for. I believe you called him a bastard."
She answered without thinking. "He is."
"Why," Guy lifted his eyes to hers, never releasing her arm, "would you associate with someone who is illegitimate?"
Genevieve forced her features to stay calm. What would this man do if her found out she was illegitimate? Toss her out? Send her to a dungeon? Could one be sent to the dungeon for one's lack of married parentage?
It's not your fault.
"He's not illegitimate. It's just a name. A nasty one."
Guy's smirk was lop-sided. "What is this?" He was now refocused on the irritated skin. "You said it was an allergy?"
Wanting to distance him from the topic of her ex-boyfriend and her own heritage, Genevieve almost welcomed the change of subject, not realizing she was getting ready to open a bigger can of worms. "It's a birth control implant and I'm mildly allergic to it."
The knight's eyes met hers in shock. "Birth control?"
uh oh... oh well, might as well...
"Yes. Birth control," Genevieve continued smoothly. "It keeps a woman from conceiving and getting pregnant, until she is ready."
"I thought you said you had no husband." The voice was low, more or less a growl, and Genevieve heard the accusation in it. This infuriated her. How dare he judge her!
"I do not."
"Then why would you need-"
Genevieve interrupted between clenched teeth. "I do not wish to get pregnant yet."
The man's entire visage darkened as black as his clothing. "The marriage bed is sacred!"
"Oh Puh-leeeze!" She threw her head back and yanking her arm from his grasp, thrust both fists on her hips. "Don't tell me you are such a prude!"
Guy's mind was racing, trying to make sense of her objection. "A woman should keep herself for her husband-"
"Are you keeping yourself for your wife-to-be?" She completely missed the storm brewing in the man's eyes. "Are you a virgin, Sir Guy?"
There was thunder outside, but it didn't drown out the argument, neither of them aware the servants had gathered at the foot of the stairs, listening to the battle going on in Genevieve's room. "A man has needs!"
"Yeah, buster! Women have needs as well!" Genevieve's face was as red as Guy's glare was black.
"A woman has needs? Aye. She needs to be taken care of, protected, and kept with children to keep her busy! She should have a household and a husband to tend to!" Too late, he realized she was staring at him as if he were some thing to be pitied and shaking her head.
"A woman needs to be loved and cherished. She needs to feel wanted, needed, not only by her... household... or children, but by her husband most of all. Mostly, she needs to be in control of her own destiny."
Guy snorted. "It sounds as if you think women are accorded the rights of men."
"Neanderthal!" She thrust her arm out, the spot of angry skin visible. "Where I come from, we are!"
Genevieve found herself wrapped in an embrace and pulled forward, almost nose to nose with the man. "God willing, you should soon be returned to your time, where you may have your rights and curse your beloved Lamar!"
"Believe me! I am trying!"
The two stared at each other for some moments, both enamored of the heat they found in each other's eyes. For a moment, Guy seemed to focus on Genevieve's mouth, giving her pause to think he might attempt to kiss her.
It appeared the thought crossed the dark knight's mind. He leaned closer, his lips hovering a scant few inches above hers, his exhaled breath on her cheek. However, rather than descend or take advantage, he whispered. "I suspect we have given the servants enough to chatter about this morning. If you do not mind, perhaps we should make our way to breakfast." He turned her loose and backed up a few steps, giving her a path to her door.
The sudden distance and cool air between them brought Genevieve up in confusion. "That would be a good idea." She turned and headed towards the door. "Best thing you've said all morning." She left the room, leaving Guy standing at the foot of the bed, sneering.
At the sound of Genevieve stomping down the upstairs hallway, the servants scattered, straightening the table, the platters of food. All of them acted as if nothing had gone on upstairs and that they hadn't heard the heated words. Despite their anger, Guy pulled out the heavy chair for Genevieve and slid it under the table.
They ate in an uncomfortable silence.
It dawned on Guy that this morning, he did not have a hangover. Sadly, he didn't know what was worse: the nightmares or the hangover. As of late, he had both, therefore the alcohol was no longer doing its job. This was bothersome. Almost as bothersome as the conversation that had taken place earlier about birth control and women with needs and -
"Are you not going to Nottingham today?" Her voice was soft, as if she feared she would disturb the downpour.
"No. It is raining." He didn't look up from his trencher, stabbing at another piece of sausage.
"I guess riding a horse in this weather is awful and a carriage would get stuck in the mud."
Small talk. Guy fought the urge to roll his eyes. He was horrible at it, tended to talk in circles uncomfortably, especially around women. Not to mention, this woman had a penchant to discuss the most incredibly unladylike subjects. He grunted.
Apparently, that gave Genevieve the notion that she was to prattle on.
"Thank you for bringing the dressmaker. I hope the expense isn't horrid."
Clothing. Dear God in Heaven. His least favorite subject at all. How women could blather on and on and on and on...
"Do not mention it."
"I appreciate it so much." Guy looked upwards, seeing the page in the shadows. His glare caused the boy to step back warily further, terrified to be seen.
"The dressmaker, Isandra, said my clothing should be ready by Friday."
"Do not mention it."
Genevieve was focused on her food, completely oblivious to the fact the storm outside did not compare to the thunderous fury about to erupt in the chair next to hers. "I imagine it would be a relief to you. I guess I'm dressed pretty outlandi-"
"GENEVIEVE! SHUT! IT!"
The entire hall came to a stand still. Dust could be heard settling. The knight continued to work on what was left on his plate.
"There is no need to be-"
"Lady Genevieve." It was spat through clenched teeth. "There is nothing I cannot stand more than useless, idle chatter."
Finally. Blessed silence. Now he could concentrate on the rest of his breakfast. He was wretchedly aware that she quietly pushed her chair back.
"Well then," she whispered, "I suppose your own inner thoughts drive you insane." She rose from the table. "God knows there isn't much up there but rocks, anyway!" With that, she stormed from the table, the hall, and up the stairs, making very little noise, truth be told. The slamming of her door echoed through the home, Guy's goblet raised halfway to his lips.
His eyes rolled into the back of his head. "What a man has to do to have a peaceful meal." He made a mental note to himself. His wife, when he got around to it, needed to be mute. It wasn't lost on him that little servant girl - what was her name? - and Thornton, were looking at him with pity. He started to growl at them, but decided it was a waste of energy. It was raining, he hadn't slept well in months and quite frankly, he was feeling rather lethargic. It did not help that the argument from earlier was weighing heavily on his mind. "Are the estate ledgers in my office?"
"Yes, Sir Guy." As always, Thornton's tone was pleasant and respectful. If he was upset by Guy's treatment of Genevieve, he didn't show it in the least. "You should find them in order."
"I am sure I will." He stood up. "I am simply bored." With that, he removed himself from the table and retrieving the ledgers from his office, retired to his room to look busy.
He knew he would have company shortly and the company would be a tumultuous explosion of female fury. Fury that he prayed was connected to intelligent conversation and answers to his questions.
That, he looked forward to.
~~~...~~~
Genevieve was in a fine snit. That man's moods changed like the wind! So caring and gentle one minute and then all in her shit the next. And his ideas on women's needs? Opening her shutters to pouring rain, she sank into the chair and stared at the water - laden fields.
It's the time period, the male mind - set, the man is a drunken mess at night and is probably hung over to the bone...
She wished she could access the internet on her iPad, look up the laws, the customs, the culture of this time. Early in her career, her previous employer had done business with a Saudi group. She didn't like how the men... looked at her... whispered. She realized before the end of the day that the senior architects kept the women working for the firm in very subservient positions - coffee, drinks. Otherwise, women like Genevieve, were kept busy elsewhere and none of them worked on the Saudi project at all. At the time, Genevieve didn't think on it; she had a job, she had a paycheck. But later, especially after she founded her own firm, she did think on it.
You are either a member of the nobility, a peasant or a Bride of Christ. I do not believe you are any of that.
You are as strange to them as they are to you.
Genevieve shook her head. Culture shock. What a concept. That a man would be excused for taking care of his needs, but for a woman to even acknowledge hers...
If she continued on this vein, she'd be too angry to work. Genevieve flung herself from the chair and pulled her gym bag from under the bed. Pulling out the iPad and notebook, along with a pen, she settled back into the chair. It was cool out, the rain bringing a definite chill to the air, but it cooled her temper against the man. He was what he was. And right now, he was giving her free room and board. If he wanted silence, by God, she could give him silence!
Maybe.
For some long minutes, she sat, her face pointed towards the autumnal rainy breeze. This fall here, was much different, pleasant actually, from fall in Atlanta. The city itself was hot, stifling; the pollution and smog overbearing and stifling most days. It usually didn't begin to truly cool down until late October and early November, From this angle, the wind direction, the air actually smelled... good. No scent of the latrine or the barns or unwashed bodies... just the smell of rain.
This ruminating wasn't getting her anywhere. Val said as soon as she finished, she could come home. She turned on the iPad and thumbed to where she left off. She then opened her notebook, only to stare, frozen in space at her 'translation' side with her notes.
What is stock?
She inhaled deeply.
"GUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUY! DAMN YOUR BLACK SOUL TO HELL!"
~~~...~~~
Genevieve's screech was heard not only through out the manse, but throughout the village green as well. Women leaned out their open doors, to look towards the Hall of Locksley. Men huddled closer to whatever they were working over. In the kitchen, Thornton put a restraining hand on Joffrey, nodding his head negatively. "Let them sort this out," he whispered. "'Tis time he faced a woman who will openly dance with him."
"Dance? Don't sound like no dancin' to me."
Thornton was smiling slightly. "Verbally sparring - a spirited dance, to be sure. Lady Marian kept her distance." He now began to nod, as footsteps jarred the household. "This one does not." Deep in his soul, Thornton felt this 'Lady Genevieve' was a good match for Sir Guy. The gale that brewed between them was building like an electrical storm and was felt by the rest of the household, a chemistry that was never felt with Sir Guy's former betrothed, which in all honesty was colder than a blizzard.
Now if only the two could see it.
Genevieve stormed past the master bedroom, having to back up when she realized he was in his bedroom.
Guy was seated, his large booted feet up on the table and what looked like a ledger open in his lap. One hand drifted leisurely across the page, reading the columns, the purchases, the expenditures of his estate. The other was propped on the arm of the chair, one finger up and Genevieve's fuzzy handcuffs were lazily being spun around the long digit. Despite having his back to her, he - obviously - heard her coming and when the loose cuff came around, he snatched it from the air and put his hand down to his side, between the chair and the wall.
"You shrieked?"
"Guy-"
"For your information, it is well established and a well known fact that I am going to hell. No need to announce it to the staff, or the village."
"Dam-"
"Your language," he interrupted drolly, never looking up, "is most unladylike and has much to be desired. "
"I don't give a flying-"
"It offends my ears." He slowly turned the page, his free hand continuing to follow the lines. "God only knows what the servants and peasants think - a reputed 'lady' speaking like a common strumpet."
Genevieve snorted inelegantly. Truth was, he was right. Her language was typically confined to her thoughts. "Eleanor has already suggested I attend confession with the local priest," she mumbled under her breath.
Now Guy turned his attention on Genevieve, looking up through long, dark lashes. "Eleanor? Is that her name?" He turned back to the ledger, seemingly more interested as to what was on the page.
"Do not change the subject!"
"I was not aware we had established a subject," the knight muttered, secretly enjoying the looming tempest. He marked his place on the column with his finger. Raising an eyebrow, he glanced at the irate woman sideways. "That is unless you wish to discuss your clothing again." His attention returned to the tome in his lap. "If that is the case, the door is behind you. Use it."
Her notebook slammed down on top of his hand, the page opened to her notes and his remark. Guy slowly drew his hand from underneath the paper, reading again, her notes. "You wrote this?"
"You wrote it!"
His face scrunched up in question. "I wrote what?"
Genevieve's finger jammed down on the page. "That! You wrote that!"
Leisurely, his eyes trailed down her arm to where her finger pointed. He cocked his head sideways. "What," he read slowly, "is stock." He nodded once and rested his full attention on the very angry woman standing next to him. Surreptitiously, he kept his other hand between the chair and the wall, continuing to slowly swing the handcuffs back and forth on his hooked finger. "What is 'stock', Genevieve?"
Her jaw fell slack, something that amused the man to no end. "You didn't come into my room last night to check on me! You went through my things!"
Guy made no attempt to deny it; it was never his intention to deny it. The proof was sitting in his lap, with her finger pointing to his purposeful transgression. He picked this fight, it was up to him to control it to find the information he wanted. Taking his feet off the table, he lifted both notebook and ledger balanced beneath with his free hand and set them gently where his feet had been. Finally, he lifted his hand playing with her 'toy' and propping his elbows on the table, began to fidget with the handcuffs, rolling them around both index fingers. "You became upset in the night, which disturbed me. After tending to you, I tripped over your satchel, which was sticking out from under the bed. Joffrey and Thornton both mentioned that something you were working on upset you greatly yesterday and I admit to looking to see what it was. I will not deny it; I will not apologize." His smile was insincere and Genevieve knew it. "I want to help you return to your home." Without warning, he seized the swinging manacles and stared up at the woman. "What is stock?"
For a moment, he thought she would turn, leave, walk out, curse again.
"Why would they want your cows?"
She inhaled.
"Cows? I don't have any cows! Stock is a monetary investment."
Gisborne thought on that for a minute. He had paid his friend Lambert to develop a formula, an invention of explosive black powder; something that should have brought him power and wealth. The advances in mining would have been tremendous, speeding the process up, eliminating much of the loss of life. But Lambert changed the terms of their agreement - or attempted to - and as a result, Guy lost the formula, the invention, any money he would have made, and his friend.
Vaisey had killed him. Guy had few friends and those he cherished. Lambert was intelligent and Guy enjoyed his company and his conversation. The man's death grieved him, still haunted him. For all of his position, he had been powerless to prevent it.
"Explain."
"An investment." Genevieve sank on the edge of the bed, clearly searching for an explanation he could understand. "Imagine, you have a friend who has developed a new type of hay. It grows faster, you can get more cuttings from it, it's more filling, so you can feed more horses. Thing is, he doesn't have enough money to plant the field. He needs... oh... 100... oh what is your currency?" Her hand rotated in a nervous circle.
"Crowns."
She nodded. "Crowns it is. He needs 100 crowns to create enough to plant his field, but he only has 60 crowns. You give him 40. The agreement is, when he sells his crops, instead of paying you back 40 crowns, he'll pay you back 40% of his entire share."
Guy thought for a moment. "If he makes a profit, that would be a smart move."
"A very smart move," Genevieve agreed. "Thing is, many people simply keep reinvesting it, over and over and over. Or they hang on to it and sell when it's worth a lot of money, when they need money, or when it looks as if it's not going to make as much money."
Guy was nodding. "Stock. Investment."
"Yes."
He tapped her notebook. "This Fickle-butt person-"
"It's pronounced 'Beaut'."
One side of Guy's lip raised. "He is paying you for your stock?"
Genevieve shook her head. "They are buying my business, not my investment in it. It was never discussed. Not until this hidden addendum."
That caught Guy's attention. "Hidden? As in secret?"
"Yeah." Genevieve was no longer guarding her words. "The contract sent to me was straight up. There was a casual reference made to an addendum, which was never sent to me, but sent to my attorney - my solicitor." Again, Guy's eyebrow shot up in question. "My lawyer. He's versed in law."
"The King is the law."
"We don't have a king and no, I don't want to discuss it now!" Genevieve's throat was parched and she motioned for Guy's wine goblet. Draining the mead, she handed the empty pewter back. "It bothers me they didn't send me the addendum. Instead, they sent it to my attorney, who has been preoccupied with other things. His secretary sent me the addendum just before..." her voice trickled off.
"Just before what?"
"Just before I came here," she whispered. Leaning backwards on the bed, she flung her arms out over the mattress and reverted back to the original subject. "It bothers me they didn't send me the addendum. Lawfully and ethically, they should have. By bypassing me-"
"They are hiding something. If they concealed this from you, what else are they hiding?" Guy's shadow splayed over the bed, over her. He leaned against the bedpost, his arms crossed and looking down.
When was the last time you had a woman in your bed, Gisborne?
"Yeah. They're trying to keep me in the dark and that bothers me." Genevieve was deep in thought and not paying much attention to the eddy of emotions coming from her benefactor.
"Who are you?" his voice barely heard.
Genevieve was concentrating on the curtains above the bed. "Genevieve Robinson."
"Why are you here?" Guy was picking his nails, doing everything to keep from joining her on the bed.
"To figure this out. To get my priorities in order." If the woman in the bed was aware he was quietly interrogating her, she did not appear to be bothered by it. "Val said it was quiet here."
"Val?"
"My office manager. She came to me in a dream." Suddenly, she lifted her head and looked at him, reclining on her elbows and scrutinizing his features. "Do you have dreams? Really life-like, 'I'm here at this party' dreams?"
Remembering his dream from the previous night, Guy snorted and threw himself from the post. "Believe me; my dreams are no party." Feeling needy and not liking it, Guy stepped backwards and grabbed the notebook. "Why?" He shook it at her. "Why go through this if you have the original?"
Genevieve pulled herself up, as if suddenly aware she had placed herself in a vulnerable position. "I can't read it in its original state. It's in legal-ease." Guy cocked an eyebrow in question. "The language is very formal. It helps if I write it down and then I can write all over it, make notes," she pointed to the tablet he held. "Like that."
"Where is the original?"
"Well... I..."
Guy was all seriousness and business again. "Surely, you are getting this," he pointed to her transcribed version in her notebook, "from somewhere. I would like to see it."
She tried to put him off. "The writing is very small." The man shrugged. By God, the man shrugged! "It's a Twenty-first century gadget. You'll find it odd."
With a suddenness Genevieve was not expecting, Guy dropped the notebook on the small table behind him, climbed on the mattress, straddling her, backing her up, higher into the bed. "I find you odd." When she could go no further, one hand came up, caressing the side of her face. The touch was infinitely gentle, his mouth on the sensitive spot at her ear. "Tell me, Lady Genevieve, with your modern birth control, if I made love to you this minute, would we have to worry about conceiving a child?"
"Uhm..." Her body was coming to life. "No."
"Or tonight, tomorrow, Sunday?"
Her eyes were closed, every nerve in her body, screaming...
"No."
As suddenly as he covered her, he backed up, gently removing her arms from around his neck - something she didn't realize she had done. "That is nice to know," he breathed. "Go retrieve your... odd gadget."
With the look of a cornered thief, she scampered from beneath him, hurried to her room, Guy's devious chuckle well heard. She was a long time in her room, so long Guy thought to reclaim her, but he decided that she was simply trying to get herself in order, much like he was. After several long minutes, she returned with the larger of the black slates in her hand. Turning it on, she handed it to him. "This is the equivalent of a lot of books, of notes." Guy watched in rapt horror as she pressed pictures, moved things across the screen with her fingers. She came to the document and pulled it up. "It starts here," she pointed. "You turn the pages like this," she brushed her fingers across the flat screen. With a snort, Guy waved her hand away, dragging his finger across the screen, much like he did his ledgers and becoming annoyed with the thing's bouncy retort.
"Close the door," he admonished. "There are those who would call this witchcraft and I chose not to burn this day."
"Guy, if we shut the door, won't the servants-"
"Not if they wish to keep their tongues." His eyes never left the screen and he ignored her sharply inhaled gasp. He was squinting. "How can you read this? It is small-"
"That's the problem." She shut the door gently, hoping and praying no one said anything. "After a short time, it gives me a horrid headache."
Guy said nothing, concentrating on the information on the object in front of him. 'Strange,' he thought to himself, 'the things of her world.' He wanted to ask her of war machines, and if black powder had truly been invented. He wanted to inquire of armor, how bows, arrows and swords had been improved. He wondered who won this crusade, this war of Rome's that England's coffers were being drained for, what would happen to Englishmen, men like himself, Vaisey, John... What wondrous, horrible things had changed, for the better, for worse...
"What is a 'retirement package'?" He was now lying across his bed on his back, the iPad in the air over his head, reflecting the muted light from his window.
"You can read that?"
He nodded, not taking his eyes off the printed word. "It is small, but aye, it is in perfect English." He looked at her in disdain. "I have no idea why you have problems understanding it." He returned to the iPad, his long, elegant fingers touching the screen and moving things back and forth.
"A retirement package is something an employer and an employee put together over the years they work for the company. That way when they retire, or stop working, they have something to provide for them."
Guy made a moue, as if pondering a great conundrum. "You help provide for them when they become too old or infirm to work?"
"Well, of course!" Genevieve was always quick to champion her employees. "Why shouldn't I? They work hard for me; they've made me wealthy and successful! I have several clients who hired my firm not because of me, but because of the creativeness of several of my employees. If it weren't for them, their ingenuity, I wouldn't have a lot of the work I have." Now she shrugged. "Look at it as a reward for hard work that pays off. Doesn't the Sheriff reward you for a job well done?"
This caught Guy unawares. Was he not bound to Vaisey, John, for the same reason? If they succeeded, he would be rewarded with more land, power, probably a title beyond 'Sir'. His father - a common knight - was rewarded for his service to the Crown, for his future, his family... the very Gisborne lands, his very title, were in a sense, his father's retirement...
Only to be lost to that sniveling brat, Robin...
"Is something wrong, Guy?" Genevieve was standing next to the bed, a very concerned look on her face. "Do they want the retirement packages as well?"
With a sigh, Guy laid the iPad down. The thing had now given him a headache as well and he rolled from the bed. "No. They do not want the retirement packages." He stood up and stretched, the vertebra in his back, popping. Genevieve didn't seem to notice, busy in deep thought. "They want the stock in the retirement packages and they want you to compensate your employees with your funds for the stock."
"WHAT?" Genevieve looked up, fury already evident. "They want my stock, at no extra charge and now they want the stock in my employees retirement package as well?" She didn't realize that the Black Knight was now standing less than inch from her, towering over her, leisurely perusing her form.
"And you to reimburse your peasants from your funds." He lifted a finger, tucking a stray hair behind her ear, exposing the shell to the air.
"Oh no! Oh no! I do NOT think so! Oh-"
"Often," he whispered in her ear, bringing her up. "but you spelled it wrong. O.H.T.T.F.N."
Genevieve was not aware how much peril she was in. "It doesn't mean that."
"What does it mean?"
She turned her head to look at him, realizing too late that his mouth was an inch from hers. "You have complained about my unlady-like language." He could feel her breath on his jaw. "Rather than singe your ears, let's just say it's an ugly way to say 'Oh no!'" She licked her lips nervously. "They can't have it." She couldn't move. His hand was on her waist and he was drawing her closer, closer to him, closer into him.
"They want it."
She swallowed. "They can't have it," she whispered.
"Playing hard to get?" Genevieve shook her head. Catching her off-guard, he reached out and pulled her completely against him. "But they want it, my lady. They are rather adamant about it. And," his voice dropped lower, "I want you."
With that, his mouth descended.
~~~...~~~
No, it's just a thought
~~~...~~~