Chapter Twenty-one: Honeymoon from Hell

"So Gisbourne, how goes the wooing of the fair Lady Deirdre, eh?" The sheriff and Guy were alone in the sheriff's office. Vasey was sitting in his chair, picking lint from between his toes and examining it before flicking it away.

Guy wrinkled his nose in disgust. "It'll be fine."

"Will? So currently, it's not?"

Leave it to the sheriff to pick up on a nuance like that. Guy ground his teeth before answering. "She keeps herself busy. She spends her mornings training with a sword and her evenings teaching reading."

"Hmmm, yes. Both of those things are with your man Allan, are they not?" The sheriff looked up from his toes to gauge Guy's reaction. Gotcha.

Guy did his best to appear casual, but failed miserably; the fact that Deirdre spent most of her time with Allan—a man she professed to have feelings for—had not escaped his notice. "What is your point, My Lord?"

"My point, Gisbourne—" The sheriff paused and lowered his foot to stand and come around the desk, hands clasped behind his back. He got right up in Guy's face, neck stretched like an adder, before he continued, "My point is that you are an idiot."

Guy's nostrils flared as he attempted to control his temper. "My Lord…"

Vasey continued, thoroughly unfazed by Guy's rising anger. "My point, Gisbourne, is that you were patient and chivalrous with Marian and what did it get you, hmm? I'll tell you what it got you. Because it didn't get you the girl, that's for certain. You got left at the altar, humiliated in front of every peasant on your lands. Face it, Marian played you for a fool and now you're letting Deirdre do the same thing! The Lady Deirdre and her father and all his power are a much richer prize than Marian could ever hope to be." The sheriff turned and walked a few paces away before whirling back to face Guy. "And you're letting that slip away! You're pathetic Gisbourne," he added with a sneer.

Guy did his best to control his temper. He had a plan in place already. He knew what he was doing. He kept his head down, looking at the floor so the sheriff wouldn't see the anger in his eyes. "My Lord, the Lady Deirdre will not slip away, I can assure you of that."

The sheriff stood by the window, gazing down at the courtyard. "Really Gisbourne? Because it appears she already has."

Guy frowned in consternation and strode over to the sheriff's side. He looked down at the plaza below. There was Deirdre in her riding pants—with Allan. They were laughing like the best of friends and Deirdre's face was flushed—from the cold or the company, he didn't know. Gisbourne growled low in his throat, like a dog warning someone away from his bone. "She will not slip away." He stormed out of the room, intent on breaking in on Deirdre and Allan.

The sheriff smiled in satisfaction—Guy was extremely easy to manipulate. Once Gisbourne was married to the little Irish wench, he would be that much closer to real power-not just here in England, but in Ireland, Europe, the Holy Lands, and beyond. And naturally, he'll bring me along with him. He owes me. All he has to do is remove one small obstacle.

Deirdre had found Allan at their usual meeting place for the morning's sword practice. She desperately wanted to see him, but she didn't want to tell him of Betsy's advice, any more than she wanted to follow it. It didn't help when he turned at the sound of her footsteps and flashed her a dazzling grin of pure happiness. He was so beautiful—if a masculine man could be called beautiful—with his blue eyes sparkling, framed by those long lashes. She remembered how his eyes had looked last night, dark with passion, and shuddered slightly. She watched as those eyes darkened again and blushed, realizing he was remembering as well.

"Mornin', Deirdre."

"Good morning, Allan." She flushed and looked down as his eyes seemed to bore into her soul. He moved closer; no one was around and he put his hands on her waist. He felt her tremble at his touch, much as she had last night and he moved closer to kiss her. He was surprised when she stiffened and pushed him away.

"Allan, stop. Someone will see."

"No one's about. Just us." He dipped his head to capture her lips again and after a too-brief moment, just as she began melting into him, he pushed her away. "Now, now, now, luv. Go easy. Someone'll see." He grinned at her as she slapped him in the chest, laughing in his face; then she blushed as he brushed his lips against her ear and whispered something.

"Allan A' Dale, I could just kill you."

"That's true, but then you'd be a widow and you're too beautiful by far to be a widow. Meet me tonight again. Same place?"

Deirdre sobered at his soft-spoken, heart-felt words and pulled out of his arms. "I can't Allan."

He lowered his eyebrows at her in consternation. "Why not? I need to see you again. Please, Deirdre." He tried to move closer again and she avoided his grasp.

"I know Allan, but I just can't." At his continued look of confusion, she explained, "Look Allan, I don't know how she knew, but my maid, Betsy, knew I had…you know. So I admitted to her that we were married."

"You what?" Allan whispered in shock.

"Look she guessed what had happened, except the married part and I couldn't let her think I was wanton. This way, she'll protect our secret."

Allan sighed in aggravation. "Well, it's done now. But what's that got to do with us meetin' up?" He sounded almost plaintive now and she couldn't help but smile.

"Betsy says we should be careful. We are leaving in two weeks, after all. There's no sense in getting caught by Guy. He would not be amused."

Allan snorted. "That's an understatement!" His grin of good humor had her laughing in relief. Neither of them saw the sheriff who was now looking down on them from his office window.

Gisbourne barged down the hall, his temper evident in his every stride. Guards jumped quickly out of his way as he glared at them. He stopped for a moment outside the door, allowing his eyes to adjust to the light, before striding purposefully toward the courtyard where he had seen Deirdre and Allan. He tried desperately to collect himself so Deirdre wouldn't be put off by his ire; by the time he rounded the corner, he had a fake smile in place.

Deirdre turned at the sound of her name to see Guy standing not twenty feet away. She flushed, embarrassed and a little frightened that he might have heard her conversation with Allan. "Guy, we were just talking about you."

"You were?" Guy sounded confused by her admission.

Allan jumped in. "Yeah, we were just saying as how the sheriff must be keeping you awfully busy lately. We've 'ardly seen you. You should take a bit o' time off. Spring's comin'. 'ave some fun."

Guy raised an eyebrow at Allan. "I think you're right. Deirdre, would you accompany me on a ride?"

"I, um, that is, I…" Deirdre stuttered, trying to find a graceful way out of the invitation Allan had left wide open for Guy.

Allan grinned. "That's a fine idea, Giz, but we was just about to start our sword-fighting lessons."

Guy smiled, but his eyes remained cold. "The Lady Deirdre seems to excel with a sword, from what I've seen. I think she can skip a lesson or two." Guy held out his hand in expectation. Deirdre looked helplessly at Allan before accepting the proffered hand. Allan swallowed and looked on miserably as Guy led his new wife away.