Robin returned to his new home, the tiny dilapitated cottage in the depths of Sherwood Forest, frustrated and angry.
There was no doubt about it...Isabella had bested him! Robin was unused to losing at anything, and he wasn't taking this lost battle well.
His family slept. Even the gray kitten ignored his entrance, snuggling its tiny body against Marian's lovely form.
"Thank you, Lord, for keeping them safe," Robin prayed, pushing aside his anger for now.
He believed he'd done the right thing, holding himself back because Isabella was a woman. The rules of engagement were different when your adversary was female, and Robin felt his hands were tied at what he could do. Force was out of the question. So were threats. He'd have to use his head to beat Isabella. If he weren't so tired and the stakes, Marian's life, so high, he would welcome the challenge and set to work thinking up another plan.
At least he'd managed to rob the "abbess" again. He closed his fist triumphantly around her jewels he'd stolen, kicked off his boots, then lay down on the hard bed Will had made for him to share with Marian.
The kitten hissed a warning, positioning itself between husband and wife. Robin lifted it with his free hand and set it gently on the ground. "I saw her first," he said sleepily, then closed his eyes till morning.
...
Robin awoke to find the cottage empty except for himself and Grace, who was sitting perched on his chest, poking at his eyes.
"Good morning," he said, pleased to see his funny younger daughter. "Who is this lovely maiden who awakens me?"
"It's me!"
"Hello, 'Me.' "
"No, Daddy. It's me. 'No Grace.' "
" 'No Grace?' Now why do you call yourself-?"
He broke off laughing. He couldn't wait to tell Marian.
"You just brightened my day, Apple Blossom. Where's your mother?" Lifting his daughter off his chest, he sat up and shoved his feet into his boots.
Grace wiggled belly down off the bed and held out her hand. Robin took her soft tiny one in his, and let Grace lead him out the door, where he discovered Marian bent over the cooking fire.
"Marian," he said, grinning, "did you know our daughter just told me her name is 'No Grace?' Maybe we need to come up with more diverse ways to correct her."
Marian's response was decidedly cool. "Breakfast is nearly ready. See that the children wash their hands. There's clean water in the bucket."
Robin studied her intently. "Are you alright?" he asked, concerned.
Still angry from last night, Marian ladeled hard boiled eggs from the bubbling pot, and brushed past Robin, bumping his shoulder as she passed.
"Help Ellen pour the milk," she told Robin curtly.
He knew he was in trouble with his wife.
Sometimes, he welcomed her little bouts of temper. It could be highly enjoyable to spar with her, and win her over again. But this morning, with his failed mission looming in his mind, he chaffed at Marian being angry for no reason. A wife should support her husband's decisions and stand by him, he was thinking, as he helped Ellen pour milk. His irritation at Marian's stubborness made his own rise to the surface.
Except for the children's chatter, the family ate in stony silence.
...
Immediately following the meal, while the children played within sight, Marian couldn't resist bringing up Robin's midnight visit to Isabella.
"So," she began, "did you find Isabella in her nun habit, or her harlot's nightdress?"
He knew his answer would ignite the sparks flickering under Marian's cool demeanor, but he made it his practice never to lie to her. "Mother Bella was attired in red," he admitted.
Marian's lips tightened into an angry smile. "And was she pleased to see you? The hour was late. I assume you found her tucked cozily asleep in her bed?"
Despite trying to control it, Marian's voice had risen.
"I stole more of her gems," Robin bragged. "Rings and earrings. Such small tokens will go a long way to feed our people, Marian."
He felt for certain he was treading on safe ground now, but he was mistaken.
"How very noble of you! You just couldn't resist, could you, Robin? You just had to sneak into her room, at night, to see her! I'll bet you just couldn't forget about her in that scarlet nightdress. So, how did she look? Was she every bit as tempting as you remembered?"
"Marian, stop! What are you doing? I only went there to clear your name!"
"Clear my name? How did sneaking into your former paramour's private bedchamber in the middle of the night clear my name, Robin?"
"She wasn't my paramour," he argued.
"From what you confessed to me before, she was."
"Put that aside and listen to me, for once! I went there to retrieve your cloak, to prove to the sheriff it was Isabella who posed as you."
Marian grew silent. "My cloak?" she asked quietly. "Oh! Robin! Did you take it to the sheriff? What did he say?"
Robin took a deep breath before answering. "She didn't have it," he admitted unhappily. "It wasn't there. And what's more, the sly bi-" He bit back the name, meaning to honor his wife by not swearing in her presence. He didn't realize Marian would have loved hearing him insult Isabella in the choicest language possible. "The sly vixen concocted an alibi. The night Nettlestone witnessed witchcraft, Isabella presided over an all night prayer vigil, with mandatory attendance for her nuns."
"Isn't she clever?" Marian snapped.
"It must have been the witch, that Gwyan," Robin thought out loud. "But how did she come by your cloak? And, dark of night or not, no one could ever mistake her for you. There was a full moon that night, enough light to see by."
"So we're back where we started," Marian commented. "Your trip was a complete waste of time. I hope you remember that the next time you feel the urge to chase after Isabella in her red nightdress."
Marian stood and flounced away, to empty the cooking pot and wash the children's cups.
Robin rose to his feet, angry at her parting shot. He strode towards his wife to pursue the argument, but was stopped by the approach of his former outlaw gang and their families.
