A/N: If you have not seen S3, there are some spoilers in this chap.

Chapter Thirty-eight: Restlessness

"I was born in France," Guy began, opening his eyes and staring at the end of the bed. "My father was a second son who had no inclination for the priesthood, although he was made to study for many years before his father allowed him to take up arms instead. He and my mother, Ghislaine, had known each other as children, and later fell in love as adults. The problem was, Ghislaine was betrothed to my uncle. My father and mother spoke to both of their fathers, trying to change their minds, but my uncle refused to give up his claim. Before she could be married to my uncle, my mother took secret vows with my father and was soon pregnant with me. My uncle was furious, as were my grandfathers, who threw them out to make their way on their own. My father went to the court of the old king and offered his services. When the king saw how well and fiercely my father fought, he took him on, later knighting him. It was many years before my father was rewarded with land, the village of Locksley, in England. Unfortunately, a Saxon already owned it, a man named Malcolm, whose son Robert was not happy at losing his inheritance."

Guy paused, closing his eyes once more before focusing on the fire in their fireplace.

"My father had gone to fight in the king's war. We were told he had died. You can imagine our shock when he came home, sick with leprosy. He was cast out, sent to live with the other lepers. There was a fight, a fire; my parents both died in it, as did Robert's father. My younger sister, Isabella, and I fled back to France, where my uncle took us in. It was…unpleasant…living with him until we were of an age to leave. The king sent me to England, as he had my father, and I arranged a good marriage for Isabella. So now you know."

Guy had left for the day, off tending to his men and the horses. Adelaide lay yet abed when Mary came in to wake her mistress.

"Good Morning, Milady," she chimed out cheerily, opening the window coverings and stoking the fire.

Adelaide yawned and stretched, sitting up in the bed and pulling the bedcovers up to cover her naked breasts. She reached up a hand to try to tame her tousled hair, then stretched over to grab her pouch. Mary watched in consternation as her mistress reached in and pulled something out of the pouch; she placed the item in her mouth, washing it down with water but making a face nonetheless. Mary's eyes widened in understanding; she had seen that face on her mistress every day for two years straight.

"What do you think you're doing?" she hissed at Adelaide, who stared at her a moment, uncomprehending.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean," Although they were alone, Mary looked around her before leaning in to whisper, "What are you doing taking Queen Anne's lace seeds?"

"Mary, I know that Guy seems nice—here, before his prince. I trust him more than I've ever trusted any man, but what if he is different when we get to Mablethorpe?"

"What if he is not? And what does it matter, either way? He is your husband now. Even if he is not the same man when we get home, I doubt he will be the monster Lord Henry was. It is your duty to give him children."

At her charge's mutinous look, Mary added, "Besides, have you thought of what his reaction will be if he finds out?"

Adelaide's face fell. Guy had spoken of starting their family, but not very often. Adelaide assumed that he kept his own counsel mostly because he had no wish to hurt her feelings, particularly if he recalled their earlier conversation where she had insinuated that she might be barren. She felt guilty using the contraceptive seeds, guiltier for hiding it, but keeping secrets was a habit she had gotten into when she had been married to Lord Henry, and was a hard one to break. She did not know which would displease Guy more, the fact that she was keeping secrets or the fact that she was trying to prevent herself from getting pregnant.

"I know, but I cannot bear the thought of it just now, Mary. We leave for Nottingham shortly, so that he may check on his lands in Locksley before we go home. Once we are in Mablethorpe, I will let nature take its course."

Deirdre was drifting off to sleep, Tom contentedly sleeping in the small bassinet that his "Uncle" Will had fashioned for him, when she heard Allan enter the room and begin undressing. Quickly, he moved under the covers, reaching over to snuggle into Deirdre for warmth. His hand rested on her hip and he sighed; before long, he was nuzzling her neck, his hand moving to other, more interesting, parts of her body. She could feel his erection pressing against her bottom as his finger slipped between her soft folds.

"Ow! Allan, stop. You know what Madeline said—two months, at least," Deirdre hissed at him.

Allan had moved his hand away quickly at her exclamation of pain, stroking the front of her hip and thigh instead.

"Ain't it been two months, yet?" he whined. "Feels like it's been more'n that."

"No. Now let me get some sleep before Tom wakes up," Deirdre muttered grumpily. How could she explain to Allan that she wanted him nearly as badly as he wanted her, but that she was tired all the time, and still a bit sore from bringing their son into the world? She closed her eyes, beginning to dream of Allan making love to her, and promptly fell out of the dream and into a deep sleep.

Allan frowned, feeling caught between the proverbial rock and hard place. He loved Deirdre, and even if he had not taken vows, would not wish to lie with some whore just to ease his body. It was a sin to ease his own needs himself, particularly now that he was married, and Deirdre was still just too exhausted to help. He lay down to try to sleep, picturing the sheriff naked to try to calm his raging hormones, nearly making himself sick in the process.

Morning found Allan outside, volunteering to check the traps despite the bitter cold. Will came with him, to keep him company.

"What's it like, being married?" Will asked innocently.

Allan shook his head from the near-trance the cold and quiet had instilled.

"What d'you mean?"

"I mean, you and Deirdre, now Robin and Marian—did things change between you two when you got married?"

Had he been one of the men Allan had once spent time with, he would have made a bawdy comment about having more sex with her—other than recently—but Will was still so young and innocent and Allan liked the young man, so he had no desire to embarrass him.

"With Robin and Marian, they're from the same world, so I don't imagine things've changed that much for them. Me and Deirdre, we're from two different worlds," Allan began.

"Like me and Djaq?" Will put forth eagerly.

"Kinda. I mean at least we're from the same part o' the world, though, eh?"

He grinned at Will, who returned the smile tentatively. A thought came to Allan's fuzzy brain.

"Wait a second! You ain't thinkin' o' askin' Djaq to marry ya, are ya?"

Allan watched the young carpenter's blush stain his cheeks, which were already red from the cold.

"Actually, she asked me already," he admitted.

Allan stopped, laughing out loud.

"That's our Djaq. Goin' after what she wants. So when's the happy day?"

"I told her we would marry when I could give her a better life," Will replied.

Allan's arms stretched to encompass their surroundings.

"What better life than to be lords of Sherwood?" he asked, then sobered at Will's serious expression.

"Do ya love 'er, Will?"

The young carpenter nodded his head.

"Then marry 'er soon. I almost lost Deirdre—twice now. O' course, one o' those times wouldn't 'ave 'appened if we wasn't married—the baby and all. The point is, if we hadn't've been married, I wouldn't've 'ad all that time with 'er, and if she 'ad…if she 'ad, you know…it would've been a worse shame."

"But wouldn't it hurt worse now?"

"If something were to 'appen to Djaq today, would it hurt worse than if it 'appened last month? At least now you'd 'ave more memories to 'elp you through. At least now, I'd 'ave Tom to 'elp me through. If you love 'er, Will, marry 'er. I never thought I'd be the kinda guy to wanna settle down, but there it is. I can't think o' my life now without Deirdre. Even if she does drive me round the bend sometimes," he added, grinning ruefully at the younger man.

Will returned Allan's smile with his own infectious grin as they stopped to check the first of the traps.

March came in like a lion, its cold roar freezing England's inhabitants in its icy paws. The gang kept busy, hunting food and collecting firewood for the weak and the sick in the villages during the day. Deirdre took her turn as well as she regained her strength and the restlessness once again set in. Little Tom went everywhere with his mother, winning the hearts of everyone who laid eyes on the beautiful baby. His eyes were turning a deeper blue, and his hair was growing in, a dark blonde the color of wet straw. He was a happy baby, grinning and gurgling most of the time, only crying when he was hungry or wet or cold. To the immense relief of his parents—and the gang—he began to sleep through the night, often sung to sleep by the sound of his parents' voices as Deirdre taught Allan more songs on the little harp.

Allan's voice began to ring truer with time and practice. He found a certain peace in the music when it washed over him, cleansing his soul of the stains he felt—both real and imagined. Will and Djaq sat companionably together, whittling arrows, and creating small figurines for the village children. Robin and Marian fletched the arrows and added the steel tips, sharing small secret smiles while they worked. Much and Little John slept a lot, bored to sluggishness. By the time April breathed its soothing breath on the frozen inhabitants of Sherwood, they were all eager for some action.

It was the first day of April and the prince had decided it was time for everyone to go home. As she and Mary packed, Adelaide breathed a sigh of relief. A quick stop in Locksley, Guy had said, then on to Mablethorpe. Part of her feared that Guy would become something else in Mablethorpe, but part of her could not wait to go, tired of the prince's leering gaze and the endless, senseless, nasty talk of the "ladies" she spent many of her days with.

She moved to the window, checking around the room where she had learned to trust a man again, making sure everything was in the travel boxes. She heard Guy's deep voice, bellowing commands to his men as he readied the carts to receive their burdens. Looking down, she caught the glint of sunlight as it danced on his black hair; seeming to feel her gaze, he turned and glanced up, a smile of such pure delight on his face that it took Addy's breath away. At that moment, she was utterly sure that Guy would remain as kind to her in Locksley and Mablethorpe as he had been here in Fulham. Her hand reached down to touch the pouch at her waist, the one that contained her eating knife and some personal effects, as well as the Queen Anne's lace. She felt her womb constrict as she looked down at her handsome, efficient husband—he would make a good father, she thought, and decided to throw out the seeds immediately upon their return to Mablethorpe. She had heard of and seen women who were unable to do anything in the later stages of their pregnancies, but had to lie abed lest they and their babies die. She knew it did not happen every time, but life had never really shown her too much kindness, and she had felt too lucky for too long with Guy. If her luck ran out, she had no desire to wind up staying in Locksley for another year while she carried their child and gave birth. Returning Guy's smile, she turned back to finish directing the packing, telling a couple of Guy's soldiers which boxes were ready to load onto the waiting carts.

In Sherwood, the roads were becoming more active as winter's icy grip slowly opened. The gang, restless for some action, had decided to go on a raid the next day. Deirdre was polishing her sword when Allan walked in from sword practice. He looked askance at her, raising an eyebrow in suspicion.

"I'm not bein' funny, Luv, but what do you think yer doin'?"

"Díoltas* needs polishing, just in case I have to use her tomorrow," Deirdre replied.

"And why would you have to use your sword tomorrow?" Allan asked guardedly.

"Well, don't you have to threaten people on occasion when you rob them?" Deirdre returned sarcastically. Nearby, Marian and Djaq sniggered.

"Aye, but we usually do it with a bow and arrow, and we all know you'd put us who're with you in more danger than the people you was aimin' at with a bow in yer 'and. Besides, you ain't goin' tomorrow."

Deirdre had become more and more irritable as Allan had berated her ability with the bow; she knew she was a bad shot and it was a huge sore spot for her. When Allan had then pronounced that she would not accompany them on their first raid since Tom was born, it set her teeth completely on edge. She had promised not to put herself and the baby in unnecessary danger and to be a good little wife until the baby was born; now that Tom was here, she was itching to get back to thieving, even if the gang's way was a bit more overt than she had practiced. She rubbed Díoltas' fuller, cleaning the channel until it gleamed.

"I've done as you asked. I've stayed out of danger until the baby was born. The raid will be no more dangerous for you than it will for me."

"I doubt that, Luv. I'm in better shape'n you are, for one."

The other two women looked wide-eyed from Deirdre to Allan, who they figured had just written his death sentence with his tongue. Slowly they rose and cautiously made their exit from the cave to the relative safety outside. Deirdre rose, her eyebrows down-turned, her eyes glinting murderously.

"What did you say?"

Allan suddenly seemed to realize he had made a huge mistake, but knew if he backed down from Deirdre, she would walk all over him for the rest of their lives.

"I said I'm in better shape than you," he replied haughtily.

"What would make you believe that?"

"Well, for one thing, I been practicin' with my sword while you been feedin' and swaddlin' young Tom."

"What's the other thing?"

"What?"

"You said 'for one thing'. What's the other thing?"

"Well, it's been over two months now, and you still can't…you know," Allan finished lamely.

"Who says I can't," Deirdre shot at him, emphasizing the last word.

"You mean, you…you…" Allan spluttered angrily.

Deirdre smiled benignly at him, and verbally led him to where she wanted him to be.

"If I prove that I can still handle a sword, can I come tomorrow?"

Martin had taught her well, called her a natural; she was sure that despite the months without practice, she would be able to give a good account of herself.

Allan crossed his arms stubbornly. "I don't think so, Luv."

"Scared?" Deirdre taunted.

"Well, o' course I ain't scared."

"You pick the opponent. If the gang agrees that I make a good showing, I get to go." Deirdre leaned heavily on the sword, pretending its weight was just a bit too much for her. She held out her hand, allowing the sword to drop to the cave floor.

"Oops, I guess I am a bit out of shape. I can still do it, though."

She raised her chin in defiance, allowing it to tremble just a bit. Allan's eyes narrowed in suspicion as he looked at her. Quickly, he clasped her hand and pulled her in to him.

"You. Ain't. Goin'."

"Let me show you I can look after myself, Allan. Please. I need this"

Allan knew it was foolish to agree, but found himself unable to put his foot down when she looked so lost and forlorn, so in need of reassurance. He knew some of what she felt, the fear engendered when one went from being utterly independent to having to rely on others, having them rely on you. He sighed heavily.

"Fine. But if the gang thinks you ain't ready, you stay. Understood?"

"Yes!" She nodded vigorously, nearly squealing in delight as she followed Allan outside where he chose her opponent.

Allan sat in the dirt, carefully rubbing the bird's-egg that was forming on the back of his head. In the end, he had come to the conclusion that he was the only one who would not go easy on her. Of the swordsmen and –women amongst them, Much was afraid of her, Djaq and Marian might go easy on her because she was a fellow woman, and Robin would go easy on her because she was a new mother. Only he would give it his all, in an effort to save her from herself.

At first, it had seemed like he would win handily, and he had grown confident that his wife would be staying safely at the cave, to begin the packing for the move back to the summer camp which would happen before month's end. His natural cockiness had shone through as she had stopped to lean on her sword, breathing heavily. From nowhere, a calm had settled over her and she had attacked, using the same baiting method on him that he had used on Robin to defeat him. Her attack had been swift and brutal, the sword planted wherever she wanted it; watching her was like watching one of the old Celtic war goddesses he had learned of in the songs she had taught him. Before he knew it, he was on the ground, looking up at her non-plussed, as he rubbed the knot on his head.

She stood over him, the sunlight streaming around her like a halo, the sword at his chest.

"I. Am. Going." She echoed his earlier words of denial on purpose, striding away as the gang snickered.

"So who's stayin' with Tom?" he called after her.

"Draw straws," she called back nonchalantly over her shoulder.

*Vengeance

A/N: Did you like this chapter? What worked or didn't? Please read and review--I value your opinions. Thanks! WW :)