Summary: Guy tends to Anne's wounds

Again partly based on movie Quills but I still like it :p

Warning: Odd swear word and descriptive kissing

Reviews OR ELSE!!!!

Bright lights were shinning ahead of her. A kind of warmth surrounded her, her eyes aching from looking ahead. Please let this be it. Please Lord let it be it.

"Evening,"

Shit.

No chance of safe haven. She recognised the room now. The cream curtains round her bed, the cracked walls, the wooden desk with blood stains, the breeze from her window. She sighed. She it knew it was stupid to wish of dying. She couldn't help it. Who could blame her? Oh ... everyone.

A sharp pain down her back awakened her to her situation. A strange cooling sensation followed but still stung.

"Careful!"

A chuckle followed, "Glad to see you back." It felt comforting knowing Guy was there. He massaged her neck as she rolled over so she could sit up, careful to cover herself. Tension fell off her neck as his hands slowly moved down her front. She turned round to face him.

"Guy?"

"Sorry," returning to washing her wounds. "I'm sorry I didn't come earlier."

"What, to save my life or into it?"

"Both,"

"Do think it would work?"

"What?"

"Running away. Owning a home somewhere they couldn't find us. Just us."

He almost felt ashamed at this. He'd wanted that for so long. Wanted her freedom and abandon to go anywhere. "Prince John is insisting the marriage continues. I will deployed in London to stop any riots."

She whipped round to face him, clutching the remains of her dress round her, shocked, her jaw dropping, her eyes widening.

"You're leaving?"

He didn't answer. He put down the sponge and merely walked away. "I'll see you off tomorrow."

"NO!" She stood up, her dress falling apart at the back but not caring anymore, her voice choking up, tears falling down her face, "I love you. You can't ... I don't ..."

She couldn't speak. The injustice. The unfairness of it all. She wanted near him. She didn't care if she was killed afterwards, just knowing he was there would be enough for her to get through it. He whole body was now shaking with fear and anger, trying to swallow back the tears.

Guy just stood there. He wasn't quite used to these emotional outbursts. He pitied her, stuck in a violent loveless marriage to one of the greatest bastards in Christendom. He walked over to her, holding her tightly to him, feeling her hands in his hair, the warmth from her body. He leaned down to her face, his lips meeting hers, her tongue with his, him exploring the contours of her body, enjoying her openness with him, her love of his fragility.

He pulled back slowly, her tears stuck on his cheek, her body still shaking.

"Tomorrow," before kissing her forehead one last final fateful time.

He walked out, leaving her alone.

"How is she?"

Vaisey.

"Well enough." He hated the man. Hated him being everywhere, knowing everything, manipulating everything and everyone. He started to walk off. He didn't need to be twisted again into someone he wasn't

"I would advise you to leave tonight Gisborne,"

He turned. Why was he being given advice from a man who should be killing him?

"Why?"

"Might have something to do with you saving without permission the Prince's bride, maybe the fact you left your post her to spend some time with another man's wife, possibly the fact you're failing in your duty. Get, out, now."

"I will not leave her." He was determined this time. He wasn't going to leave her this time. Not for some silly game of Vaisey's. "Why should you help me anyway?"

He didn't answer. Merely walked away.

Why would he help him? Guy had disobeyed Vaisey in every single way possible. He had ignored his duties and dishonoured himself in almost every way. Why did Vaisey care?

He turned back into Anne's room. She was trying the clean up her back. The wounds were still red and raw, the dried blood now gone at least. She turned round to him, her face confused.

He didn't care. He swooped her up in his arms and held her tightly, kissing every inch of her skin, her body responding to every movement he made. She started to breathe deeply, knowing what he was doing to her.

It was all he wanted.

One night of desire.