Robin, meeting Marian's anger with his own, realized that now was not one of the times he enjoyed her looking at him in anger.
There were many times he felt delighted and amused by her flashing eyes and disapproving frowns, but not tonight. He loved it sometimes, when he thought her anger trivial and easily appeased, because she was almost unique in treating him so. Women, typically admiring him and wanting to please, rarely displayed anger toward him. Granted, he reminded himself, strong minded older women, such as Matilda and Queen Eleanor, might give him stern, reproving looks, but they were always tempered with fondness and motherly approval.
There was of course Isabella, whose looks toward him were often filled with anger and hatred, but that was because she had gone completely crazy when he had explained so gently to her that they could not be a couple. Kate wasn't too different from Isabella, less mad and hateful of course, and she often looked sullen anyway, so it was hard to tell if he was the cause of her disapproving looks, or only her sour disposition.
Sheriff Vasey's sister Davinia had been angry when he'd mocked her brother for being no different than her venomous "babies," but she had mostly looked at him with that familiar gaze of attraction and desire, calling him "Handsome," and "Pretty Boy," being almost swept off her treacherous feet when he had managed to shoot his bow between his legs and pull himself out of her snake pit.
And then there was Djaq, a woman he had lived with in close, rustic proximity in the forest for years, along with the rest of his gang. Djaq had never once looked at him in anger, not even when he had placed his desire to learn the truth about Gisbourne and make him pay over rescuing her to save her life. Of course, Djaq had never looked at him with desire either, and he hadn't sought to make her. Djaq was a friend, a perfect "little sister" who never got angry but was always kind and wise and understanding.
His fury toward Gisbourne returned to him now, Gisbourne who had tried to kill King Richard more than once, and might possibly try to kill him again. Gisbourne, who had tried to force Marian to be his wife, and who remained to this day obsessed with her.
All these thoughts flashed through Robin's mind in an instant as he stood on the dance floor of the banqueting hall, looking angrily back at Marian.
"Are you going to answer me?" Marian asked him, trying to keep her voice low so the Aquitainian courtiers and their ladies would not hear her.
"I don't recall you asking me a question," Robin proudly shot back, "only that you leaped to conclusions and trod on my foot."
"Very well then," Marian snapped, as proud as he. "I'll make myself clear. Did you or did you not send that woman flowers?"
"Apparently I did," Robin snapped back, "but it was all a big-"
"How dare you?"
Robin, disregarding the people around them, could not keep his voice below a shout. "If you will only listen to me, for once...!"
"Do you know what your problem is, Robin of Locksley?" Marian asked in a whisper.
"I'm sure you'll waste no time telling me."
"Besides being arrogant and cocky," Marian added, because of his haughty attitude, "you just have to be admired, don't you? I don't believe you were seeking another night in her bed, but you couldn't stand it if she didn't feel attracted to you anymore, so you sent her flowers, then sought her out on the dance floor."
"Sought her out?"
"Well, you danced with her anyway."
Robin could not believe his ears. "I couldn't help it! It was the branle! You have to change partners in it. That's its whole purpose!"
"You might have sat that dance out. And don't you dare snicker and ask, 'Where would be the fun in that?' "
"You're the one who wanted to dance, Marian! I was only doing it to please you!"
"What would please me is for you not to send flowers to your former lover!"
"I didn't!"
"You just admitted you did!"
"The snails you ate must have turned your brain, Marian. That, or your condition makes you more irrational than ever."
"Irrational?" she cried. "Because I'm a woman?" She paused a second before realizing what else he had said. "Snails?" she repeated, her voice grown weak.
Robin, still angry, found it a good time to make his escape. Turning from her, he disappeared from the banqueting hall as gracefully as he'd entered it, though much more quickly.
Alone, Marian realized that everyone was staring at her. She was embarrassed and ashamed for arguing in public like a fishwife, and she departed the hall as quickly as her husband had done, though she had no desire to meet up with him.
She did not, and she told herself she didn't care, though her heart was aching. Alone in a dark corridor, she allowed herself to break into tears, then stopped crying when she heard someone else sobbing.
Curious, she drew cautiously nearer to the sound of another woman crying, then was surprised when she saw the woman was her maid servant Ghislaine.
"Excuse me," Marian said, addressing Ghislaine in French. "I don't mean to intrude, but are you alright? I mean, is there something I can do to help you?"
Ghislaine was embarrassed at having been discovered crying, and was surprised that Lady Locksley, Countess of Huntington, would be so kind as to want to help her, a mere servant. Now was her chance, she realized, to learn what she needed to know, even if asking meant risking her position.
"Forgive my tears," she said, drying her eyes. "Something I heard tonight upset me."
Marian waited for her to continue, understanding Ghislaine wanted to unburden her heart. She felt unexpectedly close to her, two women bonded together in grief.
"I stood against the back wall in the banqueting hall," Ghislaine explained, "because I wanted to hear the music and the poetry. My...my husband sang early on. You must have heard him."
Marian recalled the handsome, middle aged troubadour who had sung while she was eating what Robin claimed were snails! She doubted whether he and Ghislaine were truly married under the laws of the Church, but it was not her place to judge, especially since she had given herself to Robin before their wedding. She wished now she hadn't.
Ghislaine continued her story. "There were several songs and poems concerning the legendary Robin Hood, and I realized who you must be. And I wondered..."
"Go on," Marian said, guessing what she already suspected.
"There is a villain in the tales, a dangerous, horrible man," Ghislaine said, her voice choking.
"The sheriff of Nottingham," Marian said kindly, wanting to ease Ghislaine's pain.
But her effort only increased the other woman's agony. "Not only him, but his...Sir Guy of Gisbourne."
Ghislaine broke down sobbing again, and Marian, her heart touched and troubled, took her in her arms.
"I think I understand," she said soothingly. "I am a mother, too."
Ghislaine gasped and pulled away. "You know! But you will not tell on me, will you?"
"Your secret is safe with me," Marian assured her. "I am very sorry for your...for your pain."
Ghislaine wiped her eyes on a handkerchief Marian handed her, then said, "The stories claim my son loved you. If only he had married such a kind, good woman as yourself, perhaps he might have..." She sighed, then realized the falsity of her statement, as she remembered her own marriage to Guy's brutal father. "But no, he would not have changed, not permanently. Perhaps for a time, when your love was new. But his true nature would reemerge, and you would suffer most terribly at his hands. No, you were wise to follow your heart, and marry Robin Hood."
Marian could not agree more, even while she believed Robin had sent that other woman flowers.
"I did try to help your son become a good man," Marian told Ghislaine, "even while I was using him to gather information against the sheriff. I hoped for a time he would change, but I'm afraid I was wrong. Are you in contact...have you seen Guy recently?"
"Oh, no," Ghislaine said. "I haven't seen any of my family in years, not since I escaped from my village, where we were living. I ran away with Alain, the man you heard sing tonight, and I haven't looked back. Well, not completely. I do often wonder what became of my children. Like you, I have two, Guy, and a daughter, Isabella."
"I know them both," Marian admitted, surprising her.
"Tell me what you know," Ghislaine begged. "Leave nothing out. And afterwards, if you like, I will tell you about Guy and Isabella, as children."