The storm blew over, and the ship Robin booked to carry his family across the Channel, back home to England, sailed on a choppy sea.
Isabella awoke from Marian's knockout punch tied to a hard wooden chair below deck, her hands tied behind her back. A rope around her chest and waist lashed Isabella and the chair to a pole, and a rusty bucket stood on the floor at Isabella's feet, in case she grew seasick. The hatch over the ladder leading to the poop deck stood open, letting in fresh air and sunlight, and something else Isabella cared more about...the sound of Robin's voice.
He was talking with that older brat of his, the one Guy ought to have killed when he'd kidnapped her less than a year ago. Isabella sneered at the sound of his voice, so gentle and caring when he spoke with little children, particularly his own two brats.
"The horsies must be good swimmers, Daddy," Isabella heard the little girl comment.
"What horses, Ellie?" Robin asked.
"The ones under water, pulling the boat."
Isabella could almost see the grin that must be spreading across Robin's oh-so-handsome face. "Sea horses!" she heard him say, and he chuckled. "Horses don't pull ships, El, like they do coaches," he explained. "See those big cloths? They're called sails, and the sailors move them about to catch the wind, making the ship go where they want."
"What if the wind stops blowing?"
"You are a very good thinker, like your mother!"
"Nurse says I ask too many...I forget."
"Questions? You keep asking them, Ellie. It's a good way to learn things. Now, if the wind dies down, the sailors go below and row the ship. It's hard work. That's why sailors have such big muscles."
"Like Little John!"
Isabella was glad when the pair moved away from the open hatch, so she didn't have to listen any more. Witnessing Robin as a kind, caring father dampened down her desire for him, for she preferred his sexy self. But his mention of sailors gave her an idea to free herself from having to endure the sea voyage isolated from him, tied below to a pole. She looked around her, noticing a single sailor stationed outside her doorway. "Excuse me," she called. "Is there any way I might have a cup of water?"
The sailor, a ugly, dirty, burly man entered the small cabin and approached her with a rolling gait. Isabella's glance quickly took in the knife he wore at his side, knowing she could seize it, if only she weren't tied up.
"Water's nothing but salt," he told her, "but I got something stronger."
"I'll bet you do," she cooed, seductively. "You're a very big boy, aren't you? Come closer."
He was an easy conquest. He drew near and stood eagerly over her, and she steeled herself from almost gagging from his stench.
Isabella kicked off her shoe. Stretching out one foot, she slid it slowly up his leg then used it to caress and excite him, her face wearing her naughtiest, most irresistible expression.
"Oh, my god!" the sailor cried, panting. "Blow me down!"
"If you like," Isabella said, adding something naughty and new to the common sea expression, as well as to her footwork. "Untie me, so we can really have fun."
"Can't do it, lass, but we'll have fun anyway."
The sailor lifted her skirts and threw them over her head, then dropped to his knees as he undid the lacing on his trousers. Isabella shook her head free and tried to steady herself to think clearly, to revise her plan.
It was an easy plan to concoct, for she began acting out how she really felt. She only hoped Robin had not gone too far from the hatch, and could hear her.
"Help!" she cried, as loudly as she could. "Help me, please!"
She was never so relieved to see Robin fly to her rescue. He did not bother to use the steps on the ladder, but slid down it so quickly even Isabella was amazed. Yanking the disgusting sailor off her, he kicked him to the floor then knocked him senseless with a single punch.
"Are you alright?" he asked her, more kindly than he had addressed her in years.
Isabella couldn't be more pleased at the results of her plan. Robin gently lifted her skirts back down to cover her, then untied her bonds. To continue enjoying his tender regard, she played the damsel in distress as well as she could.
"Thank you," she breathed, panting in supposed fear, though she hoped her panting would lead his thoughts in more delicious directions.
"I'm sorry," he said. "I was the one who had you tied up, but I never expected..."
"I'm alright now," Isabella said, adding a small sob for effect. Then, after she was free, she covered her face in her hands, pretending to sob in earnest. "It was horrible!" she cried, leaning against him and hoping he would put his arms around her.
He did not and remained stiff and remote, but he did not remove her from against his chest.
Isabella breathed him in, imagining he truly loved her.
"Robin?" Marian's voice broke through the spell Isabella was enjoying. "What happened? Is everything alright?"
"Let's go up," Robin told Isabella. "Can you?"
She would prefer to stay below, alone with him, but knew that was impossible. "I...I think so," she stammered, weakly.
Isabella kept up her act, though she couldn't resist throwing one fleeting, gloating look at Marian as she climbed onto the deck.
"Why isn't she tied up?" Marian demanded of Robin, as he followed Isabella up the ladder.
"Trust me," he implored his wife. "It's better this way, until we reach shore. She can't exactly escape, Marian. Ow!"
"What is it?" Marian seemed to forgot about Isabella in her concern for Robin.
Isabella stood quietly by, still playing the helpless, frightened victim, while closely watching the dynamics between husband and wife.
"It's nothing," Robin answered, showing the palm of his hand. "I got a splinter, sliding down the ladder."
"Hold still," Marian ordered, taking his hand in hers.
Isabella watched Robin wince as Marian squeezed the skin around the splinter. She was appalled, and wanted to laugh in his face. The brave, heroic Robin Hood, wincing at a splinter!
"I'll have to dig it out with a needle," Marian told him. "Nurse!"
On unsteady legs, the nurse approached, tightly clutching each little girl by the hand. Nurse hated sailing, and was terrified every minute that one of her charges, mostly Grace, would fall overboard and be swallowed by the sea.
"Don't worry," Ellen tried to comfort her. "If we fall in, Daddy will save us."
Isabella didn't want to, but she couldn't stop herself from mocking, "Daddy, who's bothered by a tiny splinter?"
"It isn't tiny," Marian scolded, "and anyway, tiny splinters hurt worse than big ones."
Isabella decided to drop her act. "I could nibble the skin around it," she said, looking deeply into Robin's eyes, "and suck it out. You know how good I could be at that, don't you?"
"Why isn't she tied up?" Marian demanded a second time. "Robin, why did you free her?"
"She was..." Robin didn't want to say, believing the words might be too painful for Isabella to hear. "Just trust me, my love."
"Trust you," Marian repeated, huffily. "Nurse, do you have a needle? The thicker and more blunt, the better, I think. Lord Locksley has a splinter."
Nurse always carried a packet of needles on her person, and she handed one to Marian.
"Thick and blunt," Marian said as she examined it, "Marian!" Robin objected, and Isabella was disgusted, seeing the handsome hero behave like a school boy.
She watched distastefully, and then with jealousy, as Marian used a thin, sharp needle to carefully dig out the splinter in Robin's right hand. Robin at first looked off into the distance, then turned his gaze on Marian, a gaze so full of love and longing that Isabella boiled over with a longing of her own.
He had never looked at her that way, not even the first time their eyes locked, just after he'd rescued from her husband's men. Coming face-to-face with him for the first time, Isabella had been deliciously flooded with attraction, and he had appeared surprised and pleased, looking at her. But was it her beauty and her allure, Isabelle wondered, or only the fact her hair so closely matched Marian's, and her eyes were the same sapphire blue?
"Finished," Isabella heard Marian say. "Now it must be cleaned."
Isabella seethed watching Marian wash Robin's hand. It was completely unnecessary for her to do what he was perfectly capable of doing! It seemed so intimate, with Marian holding his hand in one of hers, washing his miniscule wound with her other. And afterwards, when she had finished, looking into his face with an loving yet challenging expression.
Isabella sneered as she watched the couple silently communicate with one another using only their facial expressions. She had to remind herself what lay ahead, and only hoped the king wouldn't cling too long to life. Her sneer turned to an evil smile when she thought about Guy, presenting himself before King John, expecting to claim his reward. He'd be rewarded alright, she inwardly gloated...rewarded for selling her when she was a girl to her torturous husband!
No one had noticed little Grace curiously picking up the needle her mother had used to dig out her father's splinter, but everyone was soon aware of it when Grace, without malice and only trying to be like her "Mama," stuck the needle into Isabella's hand.