Marian was fuming.
When Robin had told her he was about to dash back to Kirklees Abbey, she had stopped him by crying out, "Robin, no! Don't you dare go to Isabella!"
"I'm only going to talk," he'd assured her.
"Not in the dead of night, you're not."
"I'll be back."
He'd darted away a few steps, before Marian had stopped him again by angrily swearing, "Would to God I were a man, Robin of Locksley! I'd knock you down!"
Her irritation had only grown when he'd shot her a look combining admiration with amusement. "That's my Marian," he'd said cockily.
Not caring that she wasn't a man, she'd drawn back her fist and thrown a punch, but her husband was too skilled a warrior for her blow to strike. Laughing, as if this was all a big game, he'd grabbed her wrist and twisted it behind her back, effectively disabling her.
It had made her even madder that he'd been careful not to hurt her.
"I'll teach you another way to lay a man low, soon as I get back," he'd said, wearing his cockiest grin.
The final insult came when he'd planted a kiss on her mouth, threw her a wink, then turned and disappeared into the night.
She couldn't follow and leave the children all alone. But wouldn't she just show him when he returned!
...
An abbey's walls were really no different from a castle's, Robin was thinking. Scaling them was just as simple. Simpler, really, for an abbey lacked the presence of scores of armed, burly guards, just itching to run you through with their swords.
His arrow held as he climbed the rope he'd shot from Marian's bow. Reaching the top, he threw both feet through Isabella's open window, and eased in the rest of his body.
The viper was asleep in her magnificent bed, he noted. Quickly, he searched her room, looking for Marian's cloak. When he didn't find it, he lined the outside pockets of his dark brown leather vest with Isabella's rings and earrings, then unsheathed his Irish knife and sat on the edge of her bed, mentally noting all his possible exits.
He shifted his buttocks, just enough to give the bed a small shake and awaken the beast. Her eyes fluttered open, and she gave a gasp of fright when spying him.
"Good evening, Isabella," he said, his voice smooth and scornful.
"Is it evening still? I would believe it to be much later."
Propping herself up on her elbows, she let her coverlet fall away. She was glad to be wearing the scarlet colored nightdress.
Robin's eyes took her in, but one quick laugh was all that betrayed he had noticed. He was immune to her glamour and allure, being completely in love with his wife.
"Too late for you, Mother Bella," he said, mocking the name.
"It's never too late for love, Robin," she said, opening her lips and her blue eyes wider.
"Love?" he scoffed, fingering the blade of his knife. "You're incapable of it."
"I've never been offered it, not even as a child. How can I know what it is, when it's been denied to me?"
"You can stop your wronged maiden act, Isabella. I'm not falling for it tonight. I'm here for information, and I suggest you cooperate with me, and tell me what I need to know."
"Information?" she repeated, sitting up and edging closer to him. He didn't move a muscle, not even when she put her arm around his neck and began riffling her fingers through his hair. Holding onto him, she boosted her body up until her face was nearly level with his. "How boring. I can think of numerous other pursuits far more stimulating than gathering information, Robin."
"Such as?" He hated himself for encouraging her. Why had he said that? It had just slipped out.
Never again, he vowed. From now on, he would guard his tongue as carefully as he guarded his position. He needed to regain the offensive, and get what he'd come for.
In answer to his question, she whispered something shocking in his ear, and reached across his body to fondle his upper thighs, and more. He stood up, putting his body out of reach.
"Why so coy, Robin? You and I both know you didn't really come here to talk."
"I came here to retrieve my wife's cloak. You have it, Isabella. You kept it when Marian left it here, then wore it to fool simple men and women into believing my wife is a witch."
Isabella laughed lightly. "You accuse me of treachery and deceit? Me? The Abbess of Kirklees? Oh, Robin! Don't you know it's a sin to speak ill of the clergy?"
"You'd know all about sin, being drenched in it."
"I don't have the cloak," she said, acting bored. "One of my nuns returned it to Locksley, the day you robbed me. Unlike some people, I know what is mine and what is not."
"You're lying, Isabella."
"I'm not. Go on, search the abbey, looking for it. You won't find it here. And as for your charge against me! I have proof that I was here in the abbey the entire night your wife was seen conducting her witchcraft. I have the testimony of more than fifty nuns! You see, Robin, that just happened to be the same night I sacrificed my sleep to preside over an all night prayer vigil in the abbey church. I even offered up prayers for you! Wasn't that nice of me? So don't even try accusing me of disguising myself in your wife's cloak. After all, who wouldn't believe the testimony of fifty innocent, God fearing nuns?"
A bell tolled Matins. "Damn those bells," Isabella sneered. "Someone rings them every few hours, you know. I almost wish I were deaf, at times. Now you understand why I was so put out with you for shooting the bell and ringing it when you shouldn't. Now, if you're not willing to do something else you shouldn't, you may go. I really would like to get back to sleep. I was having such a fascinating dream about us when you woke me, and I'd really like to see if I can get back to it now. Goodnight."
