"I mean you no harm," Robin told Gisele, her knife at his throat. "Put the knife down."

He knew he faced a risk of the woman cutting his throat, for she shared some of the same blood as Isabella and Gisbourne. But he wanted to believe Gisele was less treacherous than they were and would release him if he only appealed to her. "Please," he added, challenging her with his most charming, persuasive smile.

She took in her breath, far from immune to his charms, but remained steadfast.

Robin changed his tactics. "I don't want to hurt you," he said as a warning, knowing he could overpower her with only a minimal risk to his life. "Put down the knife and I'll leave quietly."

"And what do you think will happen to me, if I let you go?" Gisele asked.

"Is that why you're doing this? You think Gisbourne will hurt you unless you capture me, even though my wife knocked you out to escape?"

"Your wife? Guy said she was his."

"Ah well, he's always been deluded where Marian's concerned. But he knows she's married to me."

Gisele studied him briefly. "You're brave, I'll say that for you," she said. "You haven't flinched. And your wife didn't knock me out...she only told me to tell Guy that, to protect me. Much good may it do me, though."

Robin looked at her with compassion. "You think he'll beat you?" he asked.

"Or worse."

Robin's compassion for her increased. "I can help you," he offered. "Your nephew is wanted by the King of England, with a rich bounty on his head. I made a deal with Gisbourne, if he would take me to my wife, I would not turn him in. But you made no such promise. I can tell you where the king's camp is. Give the sentry my name, Robin of Locksley, and he will lead you straight to the king. Tell him where he can find Gisbourne, and you will be free forever from your nephew's brutality, and rich besides."

She seemed to weigh what he said, and Robin promised her, "This is no trick."

"Robin of Locksley," she repeated, thinking of the reward money.

With the knife still at his throat, Robin began explaining where King Richard's army camp lay.

Gisele listened, but fluctuated back and forth in her decision. "My own sister's child," she thought, then told herself, "I am only doing what Guy did, when he sold Isabella to her husband, as well as saving myself. There is certainly no love lost between us. And the money!"

"Alright," she decided, putting away the knife.

"Thank you."

Quickly, Robin finished tying Guy to a chair, thinking the man would finally face judgment for all the crimes he committed. "Goodbye, and good luck," he said, then hurried from the cottage to find Marian.

Seeing the forest in the distance, he guessed she had gone there. He tried not to worry about her suffering from the cold, alone in an unknown wood, but focused all his thoughts on finding her.

He had a glimmer of hope, more than a glimmer, when he noticed smoke rising above the forest canopy, and forgetting the pain in his leg, he hurried its direction.

Before too long, he could smell the campfire, as well as meat roasting. Almost there, he slowed his steps and advanced with caution, his hand on the hilt of his sword.

Marian! His eyes welled up with grateful tears and his heart pounded with relief and gladness.

Her back was to him as she kneeled on the ground beside the fire, roasting something she had skewered on a stick. Not wanting to alarm her, he quietly spoke her name.

"Marian?"

He heard her gasp for air and watched her drop the stick. She jumped up and turned to face him, gasped again, smiled yet broke into tears, then ran to him.

He met her halfway and they blended into a series of kisses, cutting each one short to look upon one another's faces as if they could never look enough.

"I knew I would find you again," Robin told her, kissing her again.

"Robin!" she answered. "Guy said you were dead!"

"So you have lost your memory?"

"Partially, but it's coming back, in flashes." Needing to talk, they suspended their kisses, though continued holding one another. "We have daughters, don't we?" Marian asked. "Two little girls. And this baby I'm carrying, it's yours."

"Unless you deceived me," he couldn't help teasing, then regretted saying it, wondering whether Gisbourne had indeed bedded her as he had boasted.

Anger and jealousy toward his enemy warred with his loving concern for her. "Are you alright, my love?" he asked her tenderly.

"I will be once I've eaten." She gave another gasp, then pulled herself from his embrace and raced toward the fire. Luckily, the meat she had skewered had not landed directly in the flames, but was continuing to cook next to the fire.

"Squirrel," she told him, turning the skewer and sticking it into the ground, so the fire's heat could reach it. "I haven't eaten all day. I caught it with a snare I made using one of the laces from this dress."

"Impressive," Robin said honestly, but wondering why she was wearing an ill fitting peasant's gown. "And you built this fire?"

"I hadn't any flint, so I made a bow drill, the way Little John taught me." Turning her hands palm up, she showed him her blisters. "Look at my hands! But it worked."

Truly impressed, Robin lifted each hand and kissed her palms. "You amaze me, Marian. What did you use to prepare the meat?"

"This." She showed him the brooch Gisbourne had given her. "It wasn't easy. That, and finding the animal strangled in the snare were the worst parts, but I had to eat."

"Yes you did," Robin agreed. "Or do," he amended. "You are eating for two now, you know."

"I was planning to make a bow and arrows, then try to find the king. Guy told me he's here in France, fighting King Philip. Is he?"

"Yes," Robin told her, pleased and amazed that Marian was so self sufficient and able to survive living alone in the forest.

"And you're not fighting with him?" she asked. "Or you did, didn't you, and were wounded? I stitched you up!"

"That's right."

Their eyes held in a loving look. "It's done," she realized, indicating the meat. "Would you like some?"

"Eat all you like," Robin told her, "and afterwards, we can return to the convent. Are you strong enough to travel?"

"Convent?"

"It's where we're staying, temporarily."

"Robin, Gisbourne is-"

"I took care of Gisbourne, Marian."

Her eyes widened. "You killed him?"

"No, I tied him up. His aunt is going now to tell the king where to find him."

Marian sighed, and Robin could not tell whether it was a sigh of sadness or relief.

"He has to pay for all he's done, Marian," Robin told her.

Marian didn't speak, but began tasting the meat since it was now cool enough to eat. "I am not sorry," she told her husband. "Guy tried to kill the king, then stabbed me instead when I got in his way. I remember that, Robin. It's everything that's happened since that escapes me."

"Well then," Robin said, beginning to smile again, "shall I break the news to you that Will and Djaq are married?"

"Wonderful, but not at all surprising!"

"So, by the way, is your good friend Count Friedrick. At last count, he had seven children."

"No!"

Robin chuckled at Marian's pout. "Don't worry, my love," he teased. "He still adores you. He helped us rescue the king in Austria. But that's a long story."

"It's coming back to me, as you tell it. I'm sure I'll remember everything before long. Finished," Marian said, wiping her fingers on her skirt and dropping the small bones into the fire. "Tell me about us, and our daughters."

"Gladly." Together, Robin and Marian put out the fire by kicking dirt onto its dying flames, and then, holding hands, made their way out of the forest.

"We are very happily married, most days," Robin teased.

"Most days," she scoffed, smiling. "And we are living in Locksley, in your house."

"Our house," Robin corrected her, with feeling, stopping to kiss her again.

Both of their hearts were singing at being together once again, and confident that with care and rest, Marian would soon remember everything.