"Well, so much for us showing restraint."

Robin lay facing Marian, a loving smile lighting up his features, while moonlight reflecting off the snow outside their windows gave her face a lovely glow.

"Restraint!" scoffed Marian lightly, smiling back at him. "Where would be the fun in that?"

Robin chuckled under his breath, amused at hearing his words on her tongue. "I'm thirsty," he realized. "You want anything?"

She shook her head and lay back, sighing happily, watching him with admiring eyes as he rose from the bed and donned a robe.

Life can be so beautiful, Marian thought, while Robin was gone downstairs fetching something to drink. She giggled softly, remembering how the bed had made creaking noises she honestly hoped Much had not heard. Robin thought the wooden frame might need replacing, and said he would see to it come morning. But it had stopped creaking now, at any rate.

Her husband returned with a jug of milk in one hand and a pitcher of wine in the other. "Now," he teased, "would you rather be healthy, or happy?"

"Both, but I told you I'm not thirsty. Maybe just a little wine, if it's watered?"

"It is," he said with a wink, pouring some into a small cup and handing it to her.

Marian watched his hands as they handled the pitcher and cups. "Robin, have I ever told you how beautiful your hands are?"

"My hands?" He laughed, turning one over and looking at the callouses it had acquired years ago, from endless archery practice.

"Yes," she insisted, sitting up and taking his hand in hers. "Aside from their long tapered fingers, and their elegance and strength, they're beautiful because they're so gentle with our children, so tender and loving with me, and so open and giving to those in need."

Robin was touched...thoroughly moved by her words. He'd never truly gotten over the thought that his hands were stained with the blood they'd spilt fighting in the Holy Land. "They're not beautiful, Marian," he said, sadly.

"They're beautiful," she repeated, pressing each fingertip to her lips.

"They're not."

"They're beautiful."

Their eyes met and locked, and both remembered the night last autumn before Edward was born, when he'd told her she was beautiful, and she hadn't at first believed him.

"Every callous, every freckle, every flaw is beautiful, Robin. You are beautiful, my husband."

"I am," he said, believing it for her sake.

~FIN~