Disclaimer: I do not own Robin Hood, Robin, Marian, Guy, et al. I have earned nothing from the endeavor except the joy that comes from the writing and the possibility of a nice comment or two.
Author's Note: This chapter has an NC-17 version—a short scene was cut from this chapter so that it complies with the FFN rules. If you would like to read the NC-17 version, please visit: jagniken DOT livejournal DOT com.
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From chapter nine:
Robin shrugged, not seeming upset at all. "Perhaps, I can pleasure you in other ways..." He glanced at her mouth, a delectable smile tugging at the corners of his.
Marian's heart skipped several beats. She took a deep breath and released it. "Have we done this before...?" There was something in his tone that made her question whether his Marian had allowed him to ever pleasure her in whatever way he was thinking.
"Well, once. When we were first married. But you weren't keen on it, so I never asked again."
"And now?"
Now the roguish smile that always set her heart racing appeared. And since it was already beating quite fast, she felt breathless and lightheaded. Not a good way to be at the moment.
"And now you are different, and I am hoping that, perhaps, you might enjoy it this time."
She inhaled and exhaled again, her stomach fluttering like the leaves in a soft breeze. "I am not saying no. Just remember that you have memories of intimacies with me, but I have no such remembrances. In my head, I am still a maid, and I am nervous as if this were my first time. To me, this is a first, and while I am definitely affected by your attentions, I am anxious."
Marian: Through the Looking Glass, Chapter Ten
"Is your lack of memory going to be an excuse for everything?" he asked with a bit of impatience.
A small snort escaped her. "What? I have tried not to use it as an excuse for anything, but there are certain situations in which having a few memories would be helpful."
"Like what?"
"Like our marriage, for starters," she snapped and then sighed. She really did not want to start an argument.
"What about it?"
"Well, you say I am different."
"You are."
"Yes, but how? I do not know how I was before. And because I have no idea how things were between us, because I do not know the cause of our trouble, I cannot know how to best fix it. And if I choose one course of action, who's to say that if I...if my memories return, I won't have made things worse?"
"They couldn't get much worse."
His gaze flew to hers, as if he hadn't really meant to say that. Or he worried about her reaction. Or both.
"Now, you see―all I have is your word."
"I am telling falsehoods, now?" His words remained calm, but his eyes began to flash.
"No. No." She let out a frustrated breath and rolled to her back, but continued to regard him. "I mean that whatever you tell me is colored by your feelings and view of what has happened. You can't tell me how I felt or why."
He conceded her point with a nod. "What is this about?" he asked, still propped on his side.
"This is about us and you. This is about you thinking that my lack of memories is a cure-all for what ails our marriage and that being intimate isn't a big step for me."
"I think no such thi―"
"Is that so? Then why are you pressuring me for intimacies?"
He jumped from the bed. Still naked. "I'm not."
She kept her gaze glued to his face although her heart now pounded. "No? Did you not flirt with me all evening? Did you not come to bed without your nightclothes on? Did you not offer me an alternative to actual lovemaking? Some other pleasure that I don't remember not liking, much less even trying?"
"I would never force you, Marian," he spat, now affronted, resting hands on hips. "Now you are acting lik--"
"Don't say it," she warned, ignoring the bounce of his manhood she could see from the corner of her eye. "I am not acting like before. I have the feeling that before the accident, we didn't fight or argue or even have a discussion. I was, was...passive."
"Just the way a wife should be," he snapped.
She sat up, a rush of anger warming her. "Beg pardon?" Did he just say what she thought he just said?
"Wives should be obedient."
"So you're ordering me to have relations with you, then?"
His eyes widened and he looked at her. "God, no, Marian. Of course not."
She heard the surprise and disbelief in his voice. No, he wouldn't force her. She knew that. "Then what did you mean?"
"Nothing. I meant nothing. I am upset and spoke without thinking." He turned around and took a few steps and raked a hand through his hair.
How she wished he wore clothes. His nakedness was distracting and confusing—she felt both anxious and a bit fluttery inside.
"You are upset? What is there for you to be upset about?" Her eyes locked onto the birthmark on his right buttock just below his waistline. She studied it, wondering what it wa—
He whirled back to face her.
She jerked her gaze back to his.
His eyes sparked with intensity, and his voice, when he spoke, crackled with frustration. "I have not made love with my wife in months. She cannot even remember ever having relations with me and is now acting like a missish virgin."
"In my mind, I am a missish virgin. And I am not making it up to avoid intimacy."
"I never said you were."
"Yes, you did!"
"What? When?" He looked surprised again. Not only at her words, but as if his Marian didn't stand up to him, or hadn't in a while. Surely, her other self had been a spirited, happy woman and unafraid of challenging him. At least, at some point. Her two Robins were very similar in temperament, so it wasn't such a stretch to think that her two selves would be also.
"What do you think started this whole argument? I merely said I was nervous—I didn't even say no—and then you asked if I was going to use my memory loss as an excuse. And here we are."
"So you do have some memory?"
"Your attitude is not easily forgotten."
"Fine," he said and headed toward the dressing chamber.
"Fine, what? What does that even mean?"
"It, it...it means nothing. It is just an expression." He disappeared through the doorway
"An expression of what?" she called after him.
"Of nothing! Of frustration. Of exasperation. Of whatever." He reappeared wearing leggings and a dressing gown. "I am going downstairs."
"Why?"
"To think, Marian." With that, he disappeared in the hall, pulling the door shut behind him.
She collapsed to the bed, sorrow and frustration now filling her. Tears prickled her eyes.
She did not want to fight with him. She was not trying to avoid relations. But he overwhelmed her senses, made her feel out of control. And what if she never wanted to leave this life that was not really hers? What if she gave in to him and then returned to her own life no longer innocent? How would she explain it to her Robin? Would he believe her if she told him the truth? It was a far-fetched notion and one she would not believe herself except that she was the one experiencing it.
Granted, she might be stuck here forever. In which case, her memories would never return, and she would have to live in this alternate version of her life forever—live a normal life with this Robin and their daughters. A normal life that included lovemaking.
Swiping the tears from her cheeks, Marian sighed. What could she do to get herself back to her life? She felt helpless and alone. And where was the Marian who really belonged here? She hadn't given the other woman much thought. They hadn't just traded places, if her experience from this morning meant anything. Was there yet another alternate life?
Marian's head whirled and hurt thinking on it. It was confusing. She must concentrate on herself, here in this world for the moment. Search for some way to get back to her own life. And figure out how she was going to deal with this Robin.
Did she go downstairs and try to talk with him? What would she say? What could she say right now to fix things? Making love would not solve the issue, would it? She shook her head. No. Not yet, at any rate.
But she did not want him to stew. Did not want grievances between them. Her father—in her real life—had often said that one should never let the sun set on one's anger. In this case, she supposed she should not allow the sun to rise on their quarrel.
After grabbing her own dressing gown, she hurried from their bed chamber and moved quietly down the stairs. She scanned the great room as she descended, but did not see him. The door to the small room he used to administer the estates from stood slightly ajar and orange light flickered within.
"Robin, where are you?" she called from the other room."Robin?"
"I am here, Marian," he called back, suppressing a sigh. He did not want to deal with her right now, but was both surprised and pleased by her willingness to come after him. This was the Marian he'd fallen in love with, the Marian he liked being married to. And he missed her.
The door creaked open and he looked at her, a pale apparition in the darkness beyond this room.
Stepping into the room, she leaned against the wall next to the door. "I did not mean to upset you. For that I am sorry," she said. "I can only offer restful sleep in the comfort of your own bed, but it would please me if you returned to it."
Tossing the soiled cloth he held into the flames, he shook his head and laughed. A not entirely happy sound, even to himself. "Restful? My sleep would be anything but. I accept your apology and offer my own, but I cannot share a bed with you this night, my lady wife."
"What? Why not?" she asked, distressed.
"Your boldness, your prudence, your honesty are quite alluring. Not to mention your beauty. I fear I would lie awake for wanting that which you just told me I shall not have. Thank you, but I will find what rest I can down here." Which would be little enough.
"Robin...please." It was a mere whisper and fraught with fear and pleading.
He hated himself for upsetting her and he was beside her in a few steps, lightly gripping her upper arms. "Marian, I am not upset with you, I swear it." He searched her gaze. "But you must understand, it would be agony to lie beside you without touching you. You know I would never force you, but the temptation would be too much..."
"We could...we could snuggle..."
"It would not be nearly enough."
"I..." Her eyes brimmed with tears. "Rob—"
He captured her mouth in a heated kiss and then set her away from him. "Now, please...I beg you...go to bed."
They were both tired and overwrought. She'd made herself perfectly clear and anything else said or done would be regretted on the morrow.
With a nod, she fled, and he returned to the hard chair. But she would not rest well either. He was sorry for that, but there was no help for it.
~*~
Marian awakened with a sense of anxiety. She looked for Robin, but the empty place next her brought it all flooding back. The brightness beyond the shutters meant she'd overslept. Drat.
She dressed quickly and went to care for Claire. With a heavy heart and dread settling in her stomach like a rock, she led Clair downstairs.
"Where is Da da da?" she asked as Marian lifted her to her seat at the table.
Marian certainly wanted to know that herself.
To be continued...