Marian was perturbed. She needed to have a word with Lord Robin of Locksley, at once, in private!
"Robin-"
"Yes, my love?"
Marian paused a moment. His cheeky grin and words of endearment, so frequently on his lips of late, made her catch her breath.
Recovering herself, she took his arm and pulled him aside, out of earshot of the others.
"Haven't you had enough fun with Gisbourne for one day?"
As always, when his enemy's name came between them, Robin stiffened and his eyes turned livid.
"Not until he bids farewell to my forest, once and for all."
Marian sighed hotly and rolled her eyes. "So you intend to taunt him until he gives up and just walks away?"
"Runs away is more like it. Flees. With his tail between his legs, preferably."
A look of concern replaced the proud look of disdain in Marian's eyes. Robin spotted the change immediately, and his arrogant expression changed to one of tender concern as well.
"Hey," he said softly, brushing a stray lock of hair from her cheek, "it'll be alright, Marian."
Her name on his lips and the touch of his fingertips, light as butterfly wings, sent thrilling little shivers through her. His voice was soft and pleading, yearning rather, and his vivid blue eyes held the promise of endless summer skies and eternal love.
She wanted nothing more than to keep looking into those eyes, holding his gaze forever, forgetting Gisbourne and the rest of the world. And then she wanted more...so much more. Being so close to him, seeing him and hearing him and smelling him...She wanted what she didn't understand; what she had been taught to resist, and had forced herself to resist, because it was right and proper that she do so.
The force of her feelings frightened her, and she quickly looked away, shattering the mood.
Robin drew in a deep, hot breath, then slowly let it out. He had felt what she felt, and it took him some time to recover his composure.
His mouth was dry when he tried to speak. Raking his fingers through his hair, he ventured on.
"Marian," he said, "if it means so much to you, I'll stop. But it's better we stop Gisbourne once and for all."
"You're not talking about killing him. Surely not."
"You're right, I'm not. I'm just planning on making him regret he ever entered Sherwood. I want this day to be so miserable for Sir Guy of Gisbourne, he'll never even think of setting foot here again. Only then can I be sure my camp, and my men, are safe. And when I say 'men,' Marian, strange as it may sound, I mean you as well."
Having broken the mood, she found she had conquered her thoroughly confusing, yet exciting feelings for him. Even so, some curiosity in her, the same rebellious spirit that made her choose more revealing, though still ladylike, gowns this year, made her desire to test her power of fascination over Robin.
"So," she said, stepping close to him and toying with the laces on his hooded overshirt, "I am part of your gang at last. Tell me, Robin, dear, when may I wear my own outlaw tags?"
She was thrilled by the effect she was clearly exercising over him. He actually blushed, and laughed nervously, and had difficulty meeting her gaze. His obvious pleasurable discomfort emboldened her, and before he knew what she was doing, she had stolen his outlaw tags from around his neck and had run away with them.
"Marian!" he cried.
"Get Will to make you a new set!" she cried playfully, sporting his tags proudly around her neck.
Robin grinned and shook his head, wondering how soon he could propose, but worrying more than ever whether she would want to belong to anyone but her own proud, complete, and wonderful self.
...