Chapter Fifty-four: Gratitude

Dressed at last, Ruarc peered out the door at the guards. "The Lady Deidre requires clean water to wash in."

The men looked at him askance. "Lady Deirdre?" one of them asked cheekily. "Ain't no lady in your room, beggin' your pardon, Milord." He bowed low, exaggeratedly, his movements speaking his disdain for the Irishman louder than any words ever could have.

Ruarc cursed his slip of the tongue; he had formerly only known Deirdre as a lady. He grinned at the men, leaning in conspiratorially. "I'll call her whatever she wants so long as it puts her in a good mood." He winked at the guard, who nudged the other one, and the two men exchanged knowing looks.

"What's she need with clean water, though?"

"I prefer my women clean when we start, and I'm afraid I've already dirtied that water," Ruarc replied, seething inside at the need to explain anything to these underlings.

Once more, the men grinned, and the one went off to find the servants while the other leaned back comfortably against the wall as Ruarc closed the door.

"What was that all about?" Deirdre asked.

"I thought you might like a bit of a wash, is all."

Deirdre's hands fisted and she stomped her foot. "You big oaf!" she hissed. "How am I to explain to Allan that the prince let me bathe while he was napping? He won't believe Prince John didn't expect something in return. It's going to be hard enough explaining to him why I left him lying there asleep instead of waking him and taking him with."

"Sorry, lass." Ruarc looked chagrined at his mistake. "Why did you leave him there?"

Deidre frowned. "I wanted to give my thanks to Guy and his new wife."

"Guy? You mean Gisbourne? Are you talking about the man who tried to force you into marrying him? The one who had your husband tortured? You want to thank him?" Ruarc asked incredulously.

"Lord, you sound just like Allan. Yes, I want to thank him. Just before you and Allan were to be whipped, I saw a woman—I assume it was Lady Gisbourne—lean over and talk to Guy. Guy leaned over to speak to the prince and the next thing I knew, the prince was declaring his 'dedication' to the people of England and having you two released." Deirdre had rolled her eyes at the word "dedication" and spoken it in a snooty voice. "You and Allan couldn't see, as your backs were to him. The backs he would've whipped had Guy and his wife not intervened. So, yes, I've a need to go and thank them."

Ruarc puffed out a breath, his eyebrows raised in exasperation. "You know, I'm starting to believe I dodged an arrow not being allowed to marry you." His face was serious until she glared at him, and then he started laughing. "All right, let's go. I'll make up something to tell the guard and then we'll go find them."

"Thank you, Ruarc."

Ruarc bit his tongue on telling her she could express her gratitude appropriately later and ushered her out of the room.


In their chambers, Guy and Addy were eating; bread, chicken, and watered wine were spread on the small table before them—it was too early in the season for local fruit and veggies, and the prince would only have the imports at supper later where he could enjoy them. Addy picked up her wine trencher, swirling the liquid in the cup before swallowing a small amount of it; it paid to keep a clear head in Prince John's presence.

"Thank you, Guy, for earlier, in the courtyard," Addy began, the first words they had spoken to one another since the incident. Immediately afterwards, Guy had steered her into the castle, then strode out after seeing her to their room; he had gone for a ride to clear his head and calm down.

"You know I love you deeply, Adelaide, but please do not ever ask me to do such a thing again. Do not ask me to help Allan A' Dale, his rogue wife or his outlaw friends; there is too much bad blood between us."

"I know, Guy, and I am sorry. I just could not take the thought…"

"I know." Guy smiled indulgently at his wife, leaning over to take her hand in his; he squeezed and she squeezed back, returning his smile.

A knock at the door broke the mood. Guy looked up in irritation. "Come in!" he barked, his eyes going wide with shock as the door opened to reveal those who had knocked.


Deirdre and Ruarc came to the door they had been directed to. Deirdre stopped and hesitated.

"What is it, lass?"

"I…the last time I saw Guy was at my wedding to Allan; he was not pleased with me."

"You are safe from him now. You are no longer an outlaw."

"I know. It's just…there's a lot of bad blood between us." Deidre would have smiled to know her words echoed those of Guy on the other side of the door.

"We could always leave," Ruarc suggested, rubbing her arms in support.

Deirdre shook her head. "No. I have to thank them."

"All right, then. It'll be a bit harder to do from this side of the door, though."

Deirdre slapped Ruarc playfully before turning to rap loudly on the oaken door. She heard Guy's voice boom from the other side. "Come in!" Great, she thought, opening the door, he sounds irritated already.


Guy didn't know who he expected, but it surely had not been Deirdre A' Dale—particularly not without Allan. He rose quickly, placing his body in front of Adelaide's, in case the Irishman, who was her new master, meant trouble. He looked steadily at Deirdre, his blazing eyes slowly calming as they noted her condition: her hair was loose, but looked dull; her face was clean, but her eyes looked tired; her dress was dirty and torn; and her nails, when she held out her hand to greet them, were dirty and broken. He snorted and turned his back on her dismissively, reaching for his wine.

"What do you want?" he asked haughtily.

Deirdre curtsied low. "Lady Gisbourne, Guy…"

"Lord Gisbourne to you, serf," Guy sneered, turning back around and dipping his head as he raised his eyebrows. "I told you that you would come to know your place."

Ruarc reached for his sword, his hand stayed by the touch of Deirdre's on his arm.

"Please, My Lord. He is right." Deirdre's eyes pleaded with Ruarc to hold; nostrils flaring angrily, he complied.

Guy's laugh was low and sardonic. "I was wondering why this man would take your place on the whipping block. Now I see. I suppose I should thank Allan—instead of making me a cuckold, he's become one himself."

Ruarc was trembling with rage as he held himself back from attacking Gisbourne for his derogatory comments toward Deirdre. Deirdre ignored both his rage, and Guy's comments, dropping to her knees to the shock of all in the room.

"Lady Gisbourne," Deirdre began again, addressing Guy's wife first before raising her eyes to look at Guy. "My Lord Gisbourne. I have done many things in my life I regret—I have hurt people and I have stolen from people, sometimes good people. I do not deserve the leniency you chose to show in the courtyard. I have come to apologize for wrongs done, and to express my gratitude for your intervention. You saved my husband, and My Lord O'Brian from a whipping, and for that I am eternally grateful. I needed you to know before My Lord O'Brian takes Allan and me out of England forever."

"A pretty speech," Guy snarled. Behind him, Adelaide arose and moved to stand before Deirdre.

"You once made promises to my husband that you chose not to keep. Guy is not a person who takes broken promises well. I, on the other hand, am eternally grateful to you for breaking your promises to him. Had you not, he would never have entered my life. I am indeed a fortunate woman for his presence. Your apology is accepted," Here she turned slightly to give Guy a look that brooked no argument, "as is your gratitude. Go in peace to your new life, Deirdre A' Dale; enjoy your new home."

Adelaide held out her hands to Deirdre, who took them and let Lady Gisbourne help her to rise.

"Thank you once more, Lady Gisbourne," Deirdre responded.

"Adelaide," she corrected.

Ruarc watched in amusement as Gisbourne's face went pale, then flushed at his wife giving Deirdre the right to use her name rather than her title.

As Lady Gisbourne escorted them to the door, she added, "My Lord O'Brian, we will see you at supper."

Ruarc bowed low. "Indeed you will, My Lady." He put his hand on the small of Deirdre's back and steered her away, down the hall, as the door to Guy and Adelaide's chamber slammed shut behind them.


Outside of the town, the gang had bought some food and found a quiet place to eat. They were all still wound up from the earlier goings-on in the courtyard, but they were silent, each lost in their own thoughts of how this new development would affect them. It was Much, naturally, who broke the silence.

"So, they're really free now? And off to Ireland? I can't believe they won't be coming back with us. It was nice having Deirdre around," he babbled.

At this last comment, the others looked at him incredulously; his first days around her, when Deirdre had threatened his life many times in deeds as well as words, had been tense at best. Toward the end, though, they had become less than friends, but more than victim and would-be killer.

"Well, at least she helped with the cooking!" he declared defensively.

"She was a good cook," Little John put forth, effusive praise from the big man.

"And she knew her herbs," Djaq added thoughtfully.

"She could fight," Marian declared, having trained with Deirdre after Tom's birth.

"So who'll play the front man when we need it now?" Will asked.

Will's eyes were troubled. He had latched onto Allan as the roguish older brother he had never had—the one he could talk about anything with. He had been angry and pushed Allan away when the older man had decamped to Gisbourne's service but welcomed him back with open arms and a huge sense of relief when he had returned to the gang.

"Well, I could do it," Djaq volunteered.

She, too, had been relieved when Allan had come back to the gang. She knew he was a good man who just didn't always make the right decisions. Since Deirdre had joined the gang, and the couple had become parents, she had watched them both curiously, wondering how a marriage among outlaws could work. She had not forgotten her proposal to Will, and despite his reluctance to marry her until they could live safely together, she was beginning to feel like time was not their friend, that they could not wait as Will desired to.

They were all silent for a moment, before Robin sighed, picking up a rock and throwing it hard into the nearby trees. He put down his food, striding away angrily. The others looked after him in confusion; Much started to follow him, but was stopped by Marian's restraining hand.

"I'll go, Much."

The former servant nodded, his eyes troubled; he always felt Robin's emotions very deeply. They had been raised together, fought in a horrific war together—they were as close as two unrelated men could be who were not lovers. He also sensed that Robin needed the comfort of his wife right now, and so he would wait for their return, when he hoped Robin would be smiling.

Marian caught up to Robin in a small copse of trees, where he was leaning heavily on one of the birches at the far end. She walked up behind him, speaking his name softly as she reached for him, the same way she would try to calm a skittish horse. He turned to her, and the anguish on his face took her breath away. Without a word, he enveloped her in his arms, crushing her body to his. He pulled away just enough to take her mouth roughly with his, his hands yanking brutally at her clothing until she made him pause.

"Robin, if you keep up like this, I'll have to walk back to the others in rags," she teased against his mouth.

He laughed in chagrin at his actions, and would have stopped altogether, but as he pushed lightly away from Marian, she pulled her top off, letting it drop to the ground before sliding out of her boots and her pants. She let down her hair and stood before him, a forest nymph, and he felt his body—which had begun to come under some control at her words—react once more. Quickly, he stripped out of his clothes and pulled her to him before bringing her down to the grass.

Marian welcomed the coolness of the grass and the moss at her back as Robin lay on top of her, his erection pressing warmly against her body. She opened her legs to him and took him inside of her, letting him vent his frustration by loving on her. Her hips actually became sore as he pounded into her over and over, each thrust deeper than the last as her body grew wetter. Usually, he was a very gentle lover, full of fun and laughter, but sometimes, when his passions got the better of him, he was forceful, like now.

A part of Robin suspected that he might be hurting Marian, but he could not seem to stop himself. He was angry with Allan and Deirdre, and jealous of them, and afraid for what the future might hold for himself and Marian. He thrust viciously into her until he finally felt his release build up; he buried himself deep inside of her as he cried out, feeling her squeeze him tight as her own body welcomed the orgasm.

He rolled quickly off of her once he had caught his breath, and pulled her to him, kissing the top of her head.

"I'm sorry, sweetheart. Did I hurt you?"

"I'm fine. Now, tell me what's bothering you."

"Nothing anymore." He grinned as she looked at him in annoyance.

"Robin!"

"All right, I'll tell you. It's Allan and Deirdre."

"No!"

"Now who's being sarcastic?"

Marian smiled warmly at him before urging him to continue.

"I guess I'm angry with them—Allan in particular. He said we could trust him, and now he's leaving again."

"But he hasn't broken his trust. He never told Gisbourne or the prince about us being in the crowd."

"I know. And I don't suppose he will tell them where we are, but still…"

Marian raised herself on one elbow to look into her husband's eyes.

"Tell me the truth. You're not angry. You're jealous."

"Jealous? What have I got to be jealous of Allan for? Deirdre? No, thanks."

"Not Deirdre. Tom."

"What?"

"You're jealous that they have a child and are now going off to start a new life, safe from the wrath of the sheriff and Prince John."

"Don't be ridiculous!"

"I'm not. I've seen the way you look at little Tom. You want a child. You want us to start our family. But you know as well as I do, that can't happen until King Richard is back in England. It will happen, soon. We will defeat the sheriff, and get the king to come back to claim his throne once more; your lands will be restored to you, and we can begin our family. But first, we must defeat the sheriff."

Robin frowned before a thought struck him. "You know, you had said you wouldn't marry me until the king came home, yet here we are…"

"That was different. Gisbourne had me backed into a corner."

"Is that the only reason you married me?"

"Why else would I?"
Robin growled and rolled her back onto her back, nudging her knees apart once more as he pushed back inside of her.
"I was thinking that this was a good reason!"


A/N: So my first graphic R&M scene—yikes! Hope you don't hate it!