Back at camp in their own private shelter, Robin began searching for dry clothing.
"We really need to find you more things to wear," Robin realized. "Here, take your pick of one of these."
He held up two woolen shirts of his for her to choose from.
"The green one," she decided.
He tossed it to her and she removed her drenched cape. Her own wet shirt stuck to her like a second skin, so that Robin could not tear away his eyes.
Unaware of what she was displaying, she hung her wet cape on a peg, removed her stomacher, turned her back and exchanged her shirt for his dry one. "How do I look?" she asked, spinning around to face him.
His shirt had never looked so good to him before, stretched out as it was with Marian's womanly curves straining against it.
"You better keep that," he said, grinning with appreciation. "I doubt I can wear it again."
"Why?" She looked down at herself, then said, "Oh. Sorry."
"Don't be!"
"What do we do for trousers? We only have one pair each, and they're soaked."
"We wrap up in blankets, while they dry." He wished he could suggest not needing any covering, especially seeing her as she looked now, but knew he shouldn't after how she'd felt earlier today, reliving her trauma.
He removed his own wet things, while Marian studied him without his knowing, admiring his long, lean, muscular form. He pulled his cream colored woolen shirt over his head and wrapped his legs in the other blanket.
"I've never seen you before in a dress," Marian teased him.
"So, I take it you're not angry at what Kate said?"
"About your drunken kiss? No, Robin. Now, if it happened while I was here, you'd have some explaining to do."
"It's good to be married to such a wise, reasonable wife! Sit down and I'll rub your feet if you'd like. They must be tired after all that walking."
She happily complied, knowing what wonderful foot massages he gave.
"That feels wonderful," she told him, and he grew warm, thinking of other parts of her he'd rather be stroking, eliciting her pleasure moans. Forcing himself to focus, he told her, "I'm sending Kate away, Marian."
"Where?"
"I was hoping you might help by asking Lady Glasson to place her in service, the way you did Annie."
"Annie had skills, Robin. She was a kitchen girl, remember? What skills does Kate have?"
Robin thought hard. "I taught her to wield a sword, but she isn't very good."
"She can hardly serve as protection, can she? And Annie's a hard worker. When have you ever seen Kate work hard?" Marian sighed. "Let her stay. There isn't any place for her to go."
"That's why I love you," he said. "Well, one of many reasons."
"Mmm!" Marian was clearly enjoying the foot massage, so much so Robin was growing quite distracted. "You have the most wonderful touch!" she told him. "Can you press a little deeper there? Mmm, yes! Perfect!"
The blanket he wore was changing shape, and he was going out of his mind with desire. And then he caught Marian's smiling, inviting gaze, and heard her say, "Not there, Locksley...higher please."
...
By nightfall the rain still fell. Robin and Marian sloshed through mud puddles as they headed toward Nottingham, on a mission to confront Isabella. But they barely noticed the mud, or their damp clothing that had not yet dried, being starry eyed and euphoric after their afternoon of love.
Robin was trying to focus, knowing the danger they were facing. "The last time I was here with Allan, Isabella was lodged in your tower chambers."
"Why? Was she being punished? The only thing to commend those rooms is the view. They're cold and drafty. When the wind gusts, you can feel the tower sway."
"I wonder if she moved back to those other rooms you had, later."
"I doubt it. It was hardly the most luxurious suite in the castle. Didn't you say she was only being curious about me, fascinated by you the way she was?"
"I think you're right, Marian. As Prince John's official mistress, she'll have the finest rooms available for a lady. Which are they?"
"My rooms, when my father was sheriff."
"So she's probably still sleeping in one of your beds. She's consistent, if nothing else."
"I can think of other words to describe her better."
"Unutterable in mixed company? Marian, my love, you've clearly been spending too much time with Allan."
"Matilda called her a hobby horse."
"An insult to horses everywhere."
Nottingham rose before them. Luckily, the rain made the town lightly guarded. A single sentry shivered before the town gates which had been closed for the night.
"Ready to scale the wall?" Robin asked his wife.
"I love climbing," Marian answered.
He grinned, comparing her response to Much's worries and complaints, though he found Much excellent company all the same, constant and loyal and reliable. Robin shot an arrow with a heavy rope tied to it high onto the town wall, away from the west gate where the sentry was stationed. "The moat's flooded, probably only up to our knees. That means wet boots. Are you prepared?"
"My boots can't be any wetter," she laughed.
They both turned sorrowful, viewing the people who dwelt under the bridge, now flooded out of their squatting places. Since Robin had returned from war, the number of squatters had been greatly reduced by his help, but there remained several people, most who didn't care to improve their situations, or didn't know how to.
Robin began climbing the rope, with Marian following, and once they reached the top of the wall, he flung it down the other side, so they could ease themselves down.
Nottingham seemed deserted, due to the sheriff's curfew and the nasty weather. Guards who normally patrolled the streets sought shelter against buildings or in doorways, none of them paying any attention to their duty.
"It isn't always this easy, is it?" Marian whispered. "You don't believe it's a trap, do you?"
"I hope not."
They arrived inside the castle by one of Robin's secret entrances, a narrow shoot where kitchen waste was dumped. Robin pulled himself through first, then helped Marian. They both became covered in grease and slime.
"We'll made a lovely impression on Isabella," Robin joked, trying to wipe a smudge off Marian's cheek while actually adding to it.
The kitchens were as low in the castle as the dungeons, and Robin listened carefully for the sound of soldiers' footsteps. No sound at all came from the dungeons tonight. "A quiet night," he whispered. "Lead the way," he told his wife, staying close to her, his senses sharpened against any danger.
At intervals, they pressed themselves against the walls, with Robin's body covering Marian's, to avoid passing guards. But even with Prince John's presence in the castle, guards seemed few tonight. Reaching Marian's former opulent chambers, Robin pulled out his lockpick and opened the door.
...
In another room in the castle, Guy and Meg were arguing.
"I will not sleep with the prince!" Meg shouted. "Guy! How can you ask me? I thought we loved each other!"
The look on Gisbourne's face terrified her, but not as much as what he was demanding her to do.
"You do not defy me!" he roared.
"You don't scare me," Meg bragged. "Big man on a big black horse. Look at you now. Brought low by Robin Hood's arrows."
Smack! Guy struck Meg across her face with the back of his hand, sending her sprawling across the floor.
"Guy, no!" she cried, but he was on her in an instant, lifting her by her shirt and bending over until their faces almost touched.
Meg felt she was looking into the eyes of someone she did not recognize. Pure hatred and evil stared back at her.
"What did you say?" he demanded, his voice low and dangerous.
"Nothing," she squeaked. "You're hurting me." And then, stronger, and with seething anger, "Get off me."
Her voice in his ears no longer seemed Meg's, but the voice of Marian. He could almost hear her as he suffered once again through the most agonizing moment of his life. "I would rather die than be with you, Guy of Gisbourne. I'm going to marry Robin Hood." A mocking laugh changed to a private, ecstatic smile he's never seen her wear before, as if she could not believe the wonder of her statement. "I love Robin Hood." Now, meeting his horrified, disbelieving stare with open honest eyes, she confessed again, so there could be no mistake. "I love Robin Hood."
"No!" Without seeming to know what he was doing, he began taking out his wrath on Meg, beating her senseless until her body lay crumpled on the floor, a bloody, broken, whimpering heap.
"Marian!" Guy's rage was temporarily spent. He cried out in despair, stepping back from Meg as if viewing a nightmare.
"Help me," Meg whimpered.
"I'll fetch a physician," he told her, his senses returning to reason. Dr. Blight was stationed nearby to attend to Gisbourne's wounds, so Guy had no difficulty finding him.
"She forced me to do it," he told himself bitterly, choosing to believe it.