You know what would go really well with this ice cream and soup diet? Reviews! Especially because I despise soup… make it bearable!

"Go!" Lacie laughed while waggling a finger towards Drake's bedroom. Her son dashed out from the doorway for the fifth time.

"One more hug, Mummy." He wrapped his arms around her thighs and snuggled his face into her dress, absorbing the maternal scent that he had been programmed to adore.

"That's what you said two hugs ago." Lacie retorted playfully as she tugged his hair. She took her slender hands and lifted the boy into her chest and carried him to bed. He was tall for his age, which was no surprise given how his father towers over other men, but this rapid growth was making it more and more difficult for Lacie to pick him up. Her little boy was becoming a big boy. She unrolled the woolen blanket and pulled it up to Drake's chin as she kissed his forehead for the evening.

"Will Daddy be home soon?" he asked while curling fists into the hem of the sheet.

"Oh, honey, I'm not sure. But he will be here in the morning when you come down for breakfast." With one last brush of his cheek she blew out the candle and closed the room. Coming down the stairs she saw Guy coming in, notably distraught, and with a scowl that brought wrinkles to his forehead and mouth. Each time she saw the wrinkles birthed it deeply saddened her; Guy had reached his forties. She hated to think that in only a few years he would be turning gray and growing weaker. That seemed impossible for such a strong man as Gisborne.

"Guy," she chirped with whimsy in her heart. Their passionate morning left her wanting nothing more than to be enveloped in his loving arms and pulled close. She could not imagine how unsettled he was. Alice had warned Lacie of Vesey's passing and so she anticipated having to cheer him up – nothing her lips couldn't ever fix.

He proceeded, however, to tear his jacket off and toss it on the couch without acknowledging his wife. Prince John's blackmail stuck to his skin like glue and terrorized him in every breath. Lacie ran on her tip-toes and got behind him, pinching his hips. She scratched her nails on his shoulder blades and said his name again. Guy sharply turned and grabbed her shoulders, scanning her creamy round cheeks, watching her big green eyes glisten with affection. She loved him and wanted him, and he needed her. His palms went just above her breasts and pushed her back forcefully to the wall multiple feet behind her. His body felt Lacie almost tripping as she was shoved backwards and into the wooden side. Perfect skin. That was what John said he admired most about her body. He looked over the milky glass of her flesh and became possessive. Gisborne kissed her – hard. His mouth nearly hurt her it was so forceful. He tucked his chin into the nook of her neck and pulled her into him. Lacie rubbed his back and held him like she did their son, with tenderness and understanding.

"I am so sorry you lost him," she whispered with caress. His reply didn't miss a beat.

"I could have been Sherriff," Guy answered with sorrow seeping out. His hands roamed her body selfishly but with adoration; he was marking her as his.

"Oh, honey, did you fight with Vesey? Or does he have a bloodline heir?"

"It's John," Gisborne spat. He left her and paced the living room like a caged animal, and in a sense he was. Guy could go anywhere he wanted, but on any piece of this earth the bars of his situation would be welded around his brain, "He will not allow me to be Sherriff." Lacie frowned and cocked her head.

"He likes you much more than Vesey," she observed.

"He requires that I give him….. he requires a donation. A symbol of my devotion to his cause."

"Money is not an object for us, Guy. Don't be so proud that you pass up –"

"He is the Prince of England, Lacie, he does not need money." Rage began to ball up like yarn in his throat. She turned the cogs in her head and came up empty.

"Well, he is the Prince. There is honestly nothing else he needs because he has everything. What could you possibly give him that he doesn't already have?" Poor Lacie, Guy thought. She was too innocent to concoct such a dark bargain as the one presented earlier that evening. He stared at her with his lips pursed tightly between the rows of his teeth. Lacie exaggerated the angle of her chin more, "Me? He wants…. A wife?" Gisborne fell onto the closest chair and hid his face in his gloves.

"He wants you, alright. He wants your company."

"Just a date?"

"A night… in his bedchambers." Guy peeked between his digits to see as her jaw dropped; Lacie blinked several times to comprehend it.

"Oh… I see."

"I'm not going to do it, Lace. I am not going to hand you to him." Guy leaned back and let out a deep sigh. His subconscious had answered this puzzle for him; he didn't even think before swearing to protect her innocence. He would not allow her to be defiled, even if the most important day of his life was at stake.

Lacie calmly pushed his elbow from his thigh at sat upon his lap. Her buttocks perched perfectly on his legs as she pointed her toes and slung her slender arms around his neck. It was no wonder, Guy thought to himself, that John thirsted so badly for her body, for heaven's sakes she was breathtakingly magical. He laid his hands on her hips as he returned her stare. She watched the shine in his eyes in the quiet.

"I will do it." She said with dead seriousness. Gisborne's eyebrows furrowed and he bolted up.

"No, you will not. I will be damned if you are to-"

"No, you will be Sherriff. And our son will be raised in Nottingham and given wonderful education and experience for when he inherits the title from you." His grip on her tightened.

"I will not allow you to do something so absurd!" he shouted into her face.

"My heart is your property forever and always, but my body is my own." She coolly defended.

"I do not want to have to lock you up to keep you here." Guy begged. Nervously her fingers fidgeted with the collar of his thinly woven shirt, barely feeling the fabric as her mind digested their dilemma. Without another word she kissed him romantically, starting with a peck, waiting for his lips to part and make room for hers to interject. It took no time at all for him to respond and open his mouth for hers to fit perfectly in the middle. His tongue found its way to hers and, with a giggle, she matched it. After a minute Lacie pulled back, smiled, and went to her bed. Being a perfect wife would require her to sacrifice her own soul to eternal damnation, this she knew – but it would not stop her from making him happy.