"Marian, wait!"

Robin stopped Marian just down the stone passageway from the dining room. "I'm sorry you had to hear that," he told her, gently. "Don't be angry at me, for something that happened years ago."

Marian, proud and distant, looked challengingly back at him. "Was it a euphemism?" she asked.

"What?"

"Kissing. Was it a euphemism for something more?"

Robin shook his head. "It was only a kiss. I would have told you before now, Marian, if there'd been anything else."

Marian relaxed, but sighed somewhat hotly. "I shouldn't mind then, should I? I mean, you don't mind the men I kissed, when we were no longer engaged."

Robin's smile was both charming and sheepish. "I might," he admitted, "if Roger of Stoke was here, boasting about it."

"Roger!" she cried sadly. "He was a good man, Robin. Why did Guy have to kill him?"

"We both know the reason for that. Reasons," he amended. "I have a feeling the gallant Sir Guy of Gisbourne took pleasure murdering one of your most successful suitors."

Marian trembled, feeling lost and alone, reliving the threat of Guy wanting Robin dead. Not knowing her thoughts but only seeing her tremble, Robin took her comfortingly in his arms. She could feel his heart beating strongly within his chest, and she listened to it once she placed her head against him. His heart belonged to her, she knew, as did all of him, and she gained strength from the thought of their enduring love.

"What's next?" she asked, lifting her head and giving him a small half smile. "Is the princess planning to jump into the moat, so you can save her?"

Robin chuckled, happy at Marian's returning happiness. "More likely she'll cry 'Fire' from the castle battlements, so I can climb a rope and carry her to safety."

"You don't really expect her to try?"

His grin widened. "No. She isn't a fool, just a woman scorned."

"Hardly scorned, Robin. You did kiss her, you know, as well as let her dig around under your shirt."

"Why don't you dig around under my shirt now?"

"Maybe if you'd hide another Venetian glass necklace there, I would." Her teasing stopped as she turned even more affectionate. "It would have been a lovely present, Robin. I wish I had it now. Green and gold glass beads...your Huntington colors."

"Our Huntington colors. Maybe one day we can visit Venice together, and you can pick out another necklace."

"One journey at a time. We've only travelled twenty miles, and already we've argued."

"Well then, I think it's time we made up."

Their kiss was warm and loving, tender and eager. The love they shared, the romance each felt for the other, created a moment achingly sweet.

"Come along, Handsome," Marian invited. "Let's go see how our girls are getting along."

Hand in hand they made their way happily through Leicester Castle toward the room where their little girls had been lodged.

Marian's heart was light except for one nagging complaint. Princess Johanna had scolded Robin for not supporting King Richard, and Marian knew her husband's neglect toward their king must surely bother him. Robin was not one to forget his duty and enjoy himself on holiday while others worked.

As long as Queen Eleanor travelled with them, Marian believed all would be well. The queen mother had taken control of Prince John and he'd submitted to her like a whipped puppy, and she was travelling now to take her place as regent. Robin, Marian knew, considered it an honor and a duty to escort her safely to Windsor, but after that? Robin had the queen's message to deliver to King Richard, another honored duty, but what would happen when he met the king face to face in his army camp? Surely, Marian prayed, he wouldn't be tempted to join the king's war to regain his duchies!

Having arrived in their daughter's chambers, Marian watched as Robin interacted with their girls. He was so good with them, the father she knew he would be...perfect, in fact. He wouldn't deprive them of himself, would he, to fight a war that had no bearing on England? No glorious cause, as the crusade had? Robin hated war, Marian knew, hated killing, yet he loved his king.

He loves us more, Marian told herself, knowing it to be true. And yet...something he'd said to her years ago, when telling her his decision to take the crusader's cross, came back to her now.

"I couldn't care for you as I do," he had told her, "if I didn't value Honor, too."

It was a mistake, Marian realized, making this trip. But there was no going back now. She would have to remind her husband how much their daughters and herself needed him, as well as their people. But how to justify his people's need for him, while taking a holiday away from them?