Marian had stood all she could of Isabella. Not only did the other woman's implications conjure up images of her enjoying Robin in ways Marian considered her own special right and privilege, but now, Isabella had made her little girls cry.
Granted, it was Robin who had brought on their tears by his display of temper, but Isabella had caused his anger to erupt.
"Stop the coach," Marian ordered, sticking her head out the window and addressing the driver.
"Marian?" Robin asked, as the coach slowed to a stop.
Coldly, without answering, Marian handed Grace to Robin, then stood, yanking Isabella to her feet. "Let's go," she ordered.
Robin, hearing the seething anger in Marian's voice, handed Grace to Nurse.
"What?" Isabella sneered. "Are you going to punch me again? You make a habit of punching Gisbournes, don't you? My brother's cheek still bears the scar the ring he gave you made, when your fist met his face at the altar. Of course, that scar is nothing compared to the one Robin's knife created, when it sliced Guy's cheek."
"How would you like a scar of your own?" Marian threatened, kicking open the coach door and shoving Isabella outside.
Robin immediately followed them out the coach. "Marian," he said, "you need to calm down."
Eyes flashing, she turned on him. "I need to?" she asked. "If you hadn't become over excited in the first place, we wouldn't be having this problem!"
"I know I lost my temper and frightened the girls," he began, "but I've-"
"I wasn't referring to now," Marian scolded. "I meant before, when I wasn't even cold in the grave, and you couldn't keep your trousers laced."
"Marian! And you weren't in the grave."
"I suppose you think that makes things better?"
"Yes! You didn't die!"
"How did that give you the right, Robin, to...to...?"
"It didn't! But I believed you were dead! I thought I'd lost you for good, Marian, in this life anyway."
"So you wasted no time honoring my memory by..." Marian uttered a forceful groan. "Men!"
Isabella stood silently smirking, enjoying the spectacle of their argument.
"Marian," Robin said, contritely, "we've been through this before. I'm sorry. I thought you'd forgiven me."
"I thought so, too. But hearing her boast she 'sat' on you, with everything that implies, is too much! Why, Robin? It wasn't even a year, and you... "
Isabella laughed wickedly while Robin offered no words to explain. There was no explanation he could give to erase Marian's pain other than he had been weak from missing her, and he couldn't admit that to the woman whose regard he treasured.
But Marian knew, and she forgave him all over again.
She knew he was devoted, heart, mind, body, and soul to her, and would forevermore be true. And she knew he had never stopped loving her, even while he believed her gone and had become entangled with Isabella.
"Well," she said, "we can't undo the past. But now," she turned and faced Isabella. "You act like you're on holiday! You're our prisoner, on your way to face justice. I hate to think what Queen Eleanor will do to you."
"My brother was right," Isabella sneered. "You are a liar. You don't hate the thought of my impending punishment! You relish the thought of me suffering. For all your holier-than-thou pretenses, you're no better than Sheriff Vasey, enjoying his Festivals of Pain."
"You poisoned me!" Marian accused.
"My wife is no liar," Robin seethed, "and she doesn't enjoy anyone's pain...even yours. But since you make accusations... better a liar than a whore."
"Murderer," Marian added. "Would-be murderer, anyway."
Isabella ignored Marian's accusation, but Robin's, coming from him, wounded her. "I was never a whore," she cried out. "You led me to believe you cared for me! You thought we could have a future together!"
Marian's surprised eyes questioned Robin. "Did you tell her that?" she asked him, her voice small. "Did you speak the words?"
He knew she was remembering how long it had taken before he told her "I love you," and that she felt hurt all over again, believing he might have said the words so readily to Isabella.
"Never," he answered truthfully, for he couldn't remember them. "I swear it."
"You told me you did!" Isabella shrieked.
"When?" Robin asked.
"He must have been half concussed." Marian wasn't sure why she had said that, other than she was remembering the day Robin had finally let the words she'd been waiting years to hear him say slip out. But her quoting him from that day mended all the hurts between them now, and they exchanged a happy, tender, loving look.
Isabella witnessed it, and grew even more hysterical. "He enjoyed me," she gloated over Marian. "I drove him wild with excitement! Admit it, Robin! You tried to keep away from me, but you kept coming back for more, and coming, and coming, again and a-"
Her rant was silenced when Marian's fist struck her hard in the face, knocking her out cold.
The resulting silence was broken at last by Robin, his manner lacking its usual cockiness, saying, "Good work. Thank you." He paused, then tried to explain. "Marian, it wasn't like what she said. I did pull away. I felt guilty and wrong! She was the one who kept trying to pull me back in, sending me messages that she had news about the sheriff's doings, so I would meet with her."
"She was your spy, like I was?"
"Never like you, no matter how she tried to be."
"You might have sent someone else, to meet her. And don't you dare tell me, 'Where would be the fun in that,' unless you want your face punched, too!"
"I..." Robin spread out his hands, not having an excuse. "It was wrong of me, both toward your memory and toward her. I should never have gotten involved."
"Was she useful to you," Marian asked, "helping defeat the sheriff?"
Robin was glad to be back on more neutral ground. "Initially, Marian, but never like you. You know about the time Kate pretended she had scrofula. Then after awhile, the news she told me was nothing, but even then I appreciated her for trying. Allan and John knew from the start what was really going on, Tuck as well, though she wasn't helping Gisbourne against us the way they thought."
"Did you ever suspect she might be?"
"There was that element of danger."
"Which you liked."
"Maybe I did... I don't know."
"Oh, you did. I'm sure that added to her attractions."
"I never wanted a future with Isabella, Marian. I only wanted more time... with you. I wanted to regain what I thought we'd lost."
"And now you have it. Let's not waste any more of it, Robin, letting her come between us."
"I love you, Marian."
"I love you. Kiss me, my husband."
He did, gratefully, before Marian reentered the coach.
Robin dragged Isabella's body inside and sat her up in a corner seat, then sat down himself, lifting both his daughters onto his lap.
"What happened to the mean lady, Daddy?" Ellen asked, once the coach began moving again.
"Just taking her nap," Robin answered, winking at his wife.
Grace wriggled to be free, then climbed on the seat next to Isabella and poked her eyelids. "Night night," she said.
With Isabella "asleep," the remainder of the journey that day was pleasant. Within a few hours, the coach reached the coast, where the family got out to enjoy the fresh sea air and the sights and sounds of the busy port city.
"I'll book us passage on the first boat crossing the channel," Robin said. "With any luck, we'll be sleeping in England tonight."
"I don't know," Marian said. "It looks like a storm's brewing."
There was more than one storm brewing, for away in his army camp, King Richard was beginning to feel the effects of Isabella's poison, and would soon be dead.