Robin found Marian standing in the forest, flipping his knife in the air and trying to catch it by its handle, the way she'd seen him do countless times. It was obvious she was trying really hard to ignore him.
"I never told you, Marian," he began, his voice suave and golden, "when I was in the Holy Land, I once was tortured."
"Tortured?" She hadn't wanted to acknowledge him, but his news alarmed her.
"And as bad as that was, it was nothing compared to the torture I feel now, being near you yet unable to touch you."
She rolled her eyes, then flipped his knife into the air again. "Congratulations," she said, missing the knife and letting it fall to the ground. "I did not think the dribble you peddled could get any worse. I was mistaken."
Her eyes challenged his, and he dropped his effort to charm. Grinning boyishly, he admitted, "That was pretty bad."
His adorable smile almost slayed her. "Were you really tortured? What happened, Robin?"
"You know me. I escaped."
"Yes, but tell me."
He answered her matter-of-factly, as though he were talking of matters of no consequence. "The Saracens captured me, then tortured me for a day and a night, until someone recognized me and told them who I was. They tried to ransom me but I tricked them, playing dead to make them think their torture had killed me. They panicked, and while they argued about what to do, I leaped to my feet, disarmed their leader, and used his sword against them all."
"They weren't armed?"
"I never said that. There were only five or six of them."
"All fully armed?" She needed to grasp the entire picture, for even while angry at him, she was awed by his heroism. A thought struck her, and she asked, "Robin, your Saracen sword...?"
He nodded, proudly. "They had stripped me of my own sword. But the moment I held it, I never wanted another. It's lighter than a broadsword, yet twice as deadly."
"I thought you didn't like killing. Besides, I'm not speaking to you." Picking up Robin's knife, she flipped it into the air again, managing at last to catch it by its handle.
"Nice catch," he said, praising her. "That was my father's knife, you know. He got it when he was quieting the Irish riots. It was given to me when they brought his body home."
Marian shuddered. "Your father died a hero, too," she said, handing his knife back to him.
Showing off to hide how much the memory affected him, he cockily tried flipping the knife to catch its handle, but caught the blade instead, almost slicing his hand. "I've never missed before. Djaq's treatment's made me rusty."
But Marian had turned pensive. She was remembering how brave Robin had seemed, an orphan and a titled, landed lord at a mere 10 years old. He had not cried, even at his father's burial, but had shown uncommon dignity and concern for his people.
Contrasting how he had behaved then to her current responses to her father's death, she confessed, "I thought I was brave, but I'm just..." Her voice trailed off, sadly.
Robin was surprised. "Don't ever doubt yourself, Marian. You can't know how many times your courage has humbled me."
"Really? Then why can't I come to grips with my father's death? Why am I so angry? You were just a little boy, yet you showed such bravery."
"You only saw the part of me I wanted you to see." It was hard for him to tell her, hard to allow himself to appear vulnerable, but he loved her so that he longed to share his complete soul. "I was frightened, and unsure of myself. I cried every night for months. I hid my grief and my fears, because I wanted my people to have faith in me. Not only that, but I wanted to be your hero, even then."
"You were," she told him breathlessly, remembering the handsome little boy he had been.
"I still want to be your hero. And that's why I'm so ashamed of what I said to you today. I'm sorry, Marian. I want you to know, I don't think of you that way."
"Really? Never?"
He was surprised at her response. She was growing flirtatious and teasing. He loved it.
The tension between them flared higher, a different tension than they'd felt while arguing, though this had been brewing under the surface all the while.
To hell with his injuries. He stepped toward her, took her in his arms and kissed her, pulling her down with him onto the leaves. His heart sang when she allowed him to take liberties she had never permitted before.
Lost in new, blissful discoveries of one another, they shared exquisite sensations of heart, mind, and body. So focused were they, they did not notice Will and Djaq, returning toward camp from an outing gathering plants for Djaq's medicine chest.
Coming upon them, Will stopped and looked immediately away, embarrassed. But Djaq could only see her patient, unbandaged, out of his bunk, moving his hands over Marian's body when he needed to remain still.
"No, no, no, no, no!" Djaq cried. "Robin, what are you doing?"
Robin and Marian pulled apart. Robin grabbed his shirt and pulled it over his head, causing Djaq more alarm by his movements. Marian, meanwhile, readjusted her shirt, recovering parts of her that had been exposed.
Robin stood, holding a hand out to Marian to help her rise.
"How do you feel?" Djaq almost barked at him, accusingly.
A slow smile spread over Robin's face. Looking deeply into Marian's sparkling eyes, he answered, "Never better."
...
(Note: As you can tell, I don't like season 3 of the show and changed Robin's boyhood history. There were Irish riots during King Henry II's reign (King Richard's father) and the Earl of Huntington fought there, so I had him die in battle there. Also, I call Robin's knife "Irish" because the old ballad that has Robin kill Gisbourne says Robin cuts his face first with an Irish knife. He kills Gisbourne because Guy has killed Marian, Robin's wife and Lady Locksley, while Robin is away. Robin goes beserk, hunts down Gisbourne and kills him, then has to become an outlaw hiding in the forest again. I have a college textbook of old English ballads, most are Robin Hood. I was surprised to read in one that Will Scarlet marries a Saracen princess. That made me happy!)
