Chapter 10: A Dream and then Reality
"Do you know the hour?" Gisborne said in a cross voice as he came toward the door. "It better be important."
He opened the door, and Marian's breath caught in her throat as a bare-shouldered and bare-chested Guy of Gisborne met her eyes, lit dimly by the moonlight and backlit by the dying fire in the fireplace.
"Marian!" he said, looking at her in genuine surprise. It was a flattering expression, and a nice change from the usual suspicion and anger he'd used toward her as of late. "What are you doing here?"
"I need to talk to you," she said shakily.
He looked her over slowly, taking in her fine silks and carefully styled hair. Instead of shrinking because of his half-nakedness, Guy straightened to his full height, possibly because he knew it was more becoming. Looking down his nose at her, the old suspicion back, he said, "Very well."
He stood back to let her pass, though he only gave her a narrow space, so that she had to brush against his bare chest to get into the room. She couldn't decide if he'd done it for his own benefit, or if he'd done it to further disconcert her. If the latter, it worked – Marian visibly shivered, and the motion was not missed by Guy.
"I'm sorry if I woke you," Marian said, deciding it was safer to stare into the embers of the dying fire rather than try to look at him. What was below his face was too distracting.
"You didn't wake me," Guy said, who was standing closer than she thought he'd been. "I don't sleep much lately." She heard him pick up something from the table, and before she knew what was happening, his chest was in her face as he leaned down to ignite the wick of a pillar candle with the glowing embers.
"Nor do I," Marian said, moving away from him imperceptibly. "Nightmares."
"What was it you wanted to talk about at this late hour?" Guy asked, straightening and suddenly illuminated by the orange light of the lit candle. Just looking at this enigmatic sight, she felt the dizzying excitement rise once more. "Or perhaps," Guy said, his voice dropping to a husky growl, "You didn't come to talk at all?"
Goaded, Marian glared at him defiantly. "Of course I'm here to talk!"
Guy was smirking, and he continued to do so. "I used to love when you defied me."
Marian softened immediately. "Used to?"
"Yes. It was very alluring."
"Alluring."
"Yes. But it's no use making those big eyes at me," he said, all softness gone from his demeanor. He was so cold; it was as if he had just extinguished the flame he was holding between them. "I feel nothing now."
Marian moved closer to him, that insane excitement swelling again. "Nothing at all?"
He raised his head, so that he was staring down his nose at her once more. "Nothing at all. Say what you will and leave quickly."
Despite how he spoke, he didn't move away.
"I'm here to ask you… not to kill the Nightwatchman."
Guy, predictably, rolled his eyes in disgust. "The Nightwatchman now? Are you in love with him, too?"
"Of course not!" Marian said exasperatedly. "And I didn't love Robin Hood either!"
"You were engaged – "
"I was a girl then!"
"And your feelings changed, did they? I shouldn't be shocked," he added as an afterthought. "You're good at putting on fronts."
"I loved him once," Marian admitted, "but he was gone for so long, and we both grew. It wasn't a front."
"Forgive me if I don't believe you." It was quickly becoming Guy's default phrase to anything Marian said to him.
"It wasn't," Marian said insistently. "And it wasn't with you, either."
He glanced down at her, as if he hardly dared to believe. He suddenly looked small, and Marian realized why he'd always seemed so domineering – he'd been protecting himself from her. Now, alone with just Marian, with all pretense and fronts stripped away, Guy was revealing his true identity. Sadistic and bloodthirsty he might have been, but Marian forgot these things in the wake of what she saw – a fearful, vulnerable, beautiful, half-naked man standing in front of her wearing an expression she'd never seen him wear – hope.
"I loved you," she said, tears choking her voice. "I did, I loved you, but you – you killed him. And I saw what you really were. And I thought… what sort of woman would love a man like this?"
For once, Guy had the good grace to look ashamed for his past actions. "I need the sheriff to raise my family name back to prominence," he said quietly, staring fixedly at the floor. "I have to do his bidding until the right time."
Marian sighed as tears spilled forth. "And still, after you say that… I can't stop myself from loving you!"
He flinched, as if he'd been physically stricken with the admission. "Loving me?"
"Yes," Marian said helplessly, hope and despair swirling inside her at one time.
"Marian…"
Guy was looking at her imploringly, as if asking what he should do next, but Marian had no answer. Part of her – the part that was screaming for release – wanted him to grab her and never let go until she dissolved into a state of blissful oblivion. But the other, quieter, more rational part of her was arguing that it would be her destruction. She was standing on a precipice, and if she took that step, she would have crossed the line held so strongly by Robin, the line that had been blurred by Guy.
"Marian," he said again, moving so close to her that only the candle separated them. Marian stared, as if transfixed, at his chiseled chest, her heart beating so loudly that she rather thought it would echo through the house. Guy slowly set the candle on the table beside them, his other hand raising to hold her elbow, perhaps to keep her from shrinking away, but she had no intention of moving. The screaming side of her was quickly drowning out the rational side.
He moved his hand from her elbow to her waist in a slow, deliberate fashion, pulling her to him, so that she was forced to look into his smouldering blue eyes. She felt she would burn alive under their intensity, but at the same time, felt a strange sense of warmth and comfort enveloping her. All of her misgivings and fears, all knowledge of their respective pasts, all feelings of enmity seemed to melt away with that look, and both were transported to a place separate from this world. The dizzying feeling of elation and passion seemed to carry Marian away, and she felt herself flowing toward him as if she were the river and he, the hard, unavoidable waterfall at the end – the precipice of her world.
He bent toward her, and all of her senses seemed awake. She could smell his trademark scent of cedar wood and leather, she could feel his body heat emanating from him, she could hear his deep, laborious breathing even over the thunderous beating of her own heart – and she drank in the sight of him coming toward her, his eyes bright with passion, his hair tumbling down his forehead, his cheekbones uplit by the candle flame.
"Marian," he said one last time, a low, burning growl, and the word seemed to burn Marian's very core. It was a plea, a plea to let him do what he so wanted to do, and even if she wanted to, Marian would have been powerless to stop it. His arm tightened around her waist as his other hand brushed away her hair, and cupping the back of her head, he pulled her the rest of the way, so that she was against his bare flesh, and kissed her deeply.
Marian never thought she would experience such a feeling. It was if they were melting into one person, and she found herself wishing it would never end, that he would hold her in his arms forever, kissing her so tenderly, yet so feverishly, and making her feel wanted, important, and cherished. She reached up and tangled her fingers in his black hair, something she'd always thought of doing in the twilight moments between night and dawn, lying alone in bed and letting her mind wander free. He moaned deeply at her first touch, and his kiss became more feverish as she moved her hands down to his neck, feeling his bare skin, savoring the sensation of his warm flesh beneath her fingers.
She didn't want it to end – she didn't want the feeling of his hard body against hers to be over – in fact, she wanted more. She wanted to feel him against her…
"Marian," he said a fourth time, breaking away and looking her deep in the eyes, his own heavy with passion and tender love, and she knew he wanted the same thing. "Marian, please…"
It was "please" which jarred her back to reality. He'd never asked for permission, at least not verbally, and the sudden departure from his usual personality gave her pause. With horrifying speed, the impact of what she was about to do came crashing down on her. She was going to surrender to Guy – the sadistic, terrifying underling of the sheriff – and she was going to do it in Locksley Manor, in Robin's old house – in Robin's old bed! It made her shudder to think about it, and she extricated herself from Guy's arms, leaving all warmth and comfort and crashing back to reality.
Guy looked at her inquisitively, still open and vulnerable, his arms still up where she'd left them, unsure of what had caused her to move away.
"Please, Guy," she said tremulously, tears streaming down her face, "Please, spare the Nightwatchman for me."
Guy's expression became shuttered and ugly once more, his eyes narrowing as he raised his head and dropped his arms. "This was an act. You wanted to put me off my guard."
"Guy… you don't believe that," Marian said. "I just… I can't be with someone who is killing good men."
"Marian – " he started dangerously.
"If you do this one thing – vow to leave the Nightwatchman alone for the rest of his days, and we'll call a truce… and go back to the way things were," she said quietly, holding out her hand. "We can marry, and have a family under the Gisborne name, and you… you can change. You can be a good person. I know you can."
As if against his will, Guy took her hand with a pained expression.
"Please, Guy," she whispered.
He brushed his fingers against her cheek, caressing her so tenderly that she could hardly believe such a man was capable of so much evil. She shivered at his touch, wanting more, yet wanting to shrink away. His presence was so intimidating, so dominating, and yet so welcoming and… male… at the same time. She remembered the kiss they just shared, and her body warmed at the thought of it. It was possible – they could live happily if he vowed to change. If he just -
"I can't make that promise, Marian," he said, his hand dropping away from her face. "I love you, but my family name is nothing without the sheriff, and without the Nightwatchman, I am without the sheriff. I will not die forgotten and without decent descendants. I will not fold."
Marian dropped his hand, overcome with horror. "Then you do not love me," she said, backing away. She was abandoned again – abandoned for the second time by the man she loved.
"Or perhaps I love you too much." He stepped toward her again. "You deserve only the best."
"I won't let this go. This is your last chance, Guy," Marian said slowly, tears dripping from her face. "If you go after the Nightwatchman, he will fight to the death."
"Then I look forward to the challenge," he said coldly.
"So this is it? Forever in love, yet forever at a stalemate?"
"The stalemate is your choice, Marian," he said. "If outlaws and the poor weren't so important to you – "
"I can't marry a monster," she said.
His lip curled. "Then a stalemate it shall be."
She took him in one last time – his black hair, his bare chest, his strong, manly presence, and the memory of their earth-shattering kiss – before she quietly said, "We will be free when it ends."