House Arrest
The hearthstones were cold. He'd neglected the fire before dropping into his bed. Careless.
(No reason to care.)
Sir Guy had not meant to rise so early, but the crack of reins and the changing of the guard below his chamber windows meant further rest would have to wait. He shrugged the knots from his shoulders, splashed water on his face, and readied himself for the day.
He'd barely dressed when the first insistent knocks began at the door.
"Come."
A scuffed soldier shuffled in and held out a slate. "My lord, the night report."
"Thank you. Take your squad to the kitchens and then sleep."
"Yes, my lord."
Guy grimaced as he read the slate. The quicker he was in his offices today the better.
Heavy footfalls echoed ahead of him, parting accumulated drifts of weary soldiers.
"Don't be blocking the halls," Guy barked. "Get to your duties."
Soldiers scattered, leaving only his private detail. As the two door guards reached for the handles, Guy paused and pointed toward the rooms within. They both nodded, then unlatched the iron and swung the door open. Guy steeled his spine and stepped in.
"Gisborne, my dear, I trust you slept well?" Vaisey was sitting in Guy's chair, at his desk, twirling one of his daggers.
"Well enough, my lord."
"Wonderful. I trust you saw the report from Knighton?"
Guy resisted the urge to shift his weight. "I did."
"Then you'll be delighted that I've taken the liberty to triple the patrols there for the next month." Vaisey picked his fingernails with Guy's silver handled dagger.
Sir Edward was going to be humiliated and Marian was going to be furious. Christ, she was going to be furious.
"Are we certain we can spare the guard? "
Vaisey looked scandalized. "Where your betrothed is concerned, Gisborne, there is no expense to be spared." He stood suddenly. "I've asked Sir Edward here before the council meeting. You'll be there to help me convey the rest of the good news."
Guy swallowed. Vaisey's sharp eyes caught the movement and he grinned. Guy would have to be more careful. "What good news, my lord?"
Vaisey walked around the desk slowly, now spinning the dagger against his fingertip. "We cannot allow your bride and her father to be at the mercy of ruffians, traitors and thieves, can we?" He gripped the dagger's hilt and tapped the point against Guy's breastbone.
Guy did not flinch. He was used to this game.
"I'll go on the patrol myself," Guy offered.
"Oh no, dear boy. I need you here and, well… I should think your little lady will need to be seen to, hmm?" Vaisey tucked the dagger between the metal clasps of Guy's leather and patted his chest, then leaned near Guy's ear. "We wouldn't want her ladyship to be unattended, would we, Gisborne?"
Vaisey's breath was wet. The gray stone walls offered no refuge.
"Be in the main hall in two hours. Do not be late."
Whistling, Vaisey left the office and sauntered away.
When he dared, Guy pulled the ornate dagger from his leather shirt and sat at his desk. The edge of the heavy wood was marred with a series of fresh gouges and scratches. He sighed and laid out a whetstone.
…
From the windows overlooking the main entry, Marian looked weary as she bore too much of her father's weight as he exited the carriage. Her burdens would only grow.
(He would relieve her of her burdens.)
Escorts took their luggage and brought it in. En route to their rooms, their cases would be opened and checked as Vaisey demanded.
Guy would check them himself. He'd not have his men pawing her things.
Sir Edward's bag was sent to a small room. Rooms meant for guests who might stay overnight and no more. There was little more than nightclothes and an extra shirt.
Guy called for a maid. "See that his clothes are hung and ready."
He paced off to Marian's room, and his mood immediately darkened.
"Girl!"
The maid scampered in. "Yes, my lord?"
"Get better linens in here. I want the fire lit and flowers on the table. Get one of my guards to bring one of my banners in here." He pointed at the door and she ran out like she was chased.
Guy took off his gloves. Her bag was cream leather with sturdy buckles polished bright from handling. She'd spent far too many nights in this wretched place. (And would spend many, many more.)
He could give her a new place to stay. Away from here. Away from the constant shouting and clashing swords and Vaisey and black. The sin and whispers; filth and decay.
He unlatched the buckles and opened the case. A nightdress in pale linen. Guy ran a finger over the embroidered flowers along the neckline, half expecting them to wither (his touch was putrid). He laid it out on the bed.
There were two dresses. One in fine wool, a travelling dress. The seams would caress her body, but it was so unadorned as to be plain. He would buy her silks in every color but the first would match her eyes.
The other dress gave him pause. It was not a gown meant for comfort. The fabric slid in his fingers, shimmering in the mid-morning light. She may sit next to him tonight, filling out this dress, laying a hand on his arm.
Voices in the hall. Guy shook himself and finished searching the bag. Two chemise (he fiddled at a ragged sleeve-edge and wondered if she did the same), corsetry, her toilette, nothing Vaisey needed to hear of (but he had committed to memory).
The maid reappeared with flowers, followed by another with sheets and the banner. Guy had ten minutes to be in the hall, so he nodded at them with a grunt and left them to do their work.
…
Vaisey greeted Sir Edward, dripping with false sympathy.
"My Lord, accept my humble apologies for the increasing forces in your lands. There have been far too many incidents and we must see to your safety and," the sheriff ran his fingertips over Marian's cheek. "We cannot risk the flower of these counties."
Marian refused to flinch, and Guy clenched his jaw so hard it made his teeth hurt.
"Lord Sheriff, my lands look like a soldier's camp and we cannot graze so many horses without harming our crops."
Guy did not hear the wordplay. He watched Marian. She searched his face, staring back at him. A glance towards her father and the sheriff. Guy shook his head (this was an unwinnable argument).
"I appreciate your concerns, but Nottingham will do all it can to protect your lands from theft and villainy."
Sir Edward sighed. "Is there nothing we can do? I cannot allow the village to bear this burden."
Marian's gaze snapped back to Guy. He blinked hard and looked down (forgive me).
(Have me).
Vaisey tapped his chin with a fingertip. "Well, we… could… hmm…"
Guy resisted rolling his eyes.
"Perhaps, Sir Edward,"
"Yes?" The old fool leapt into his own prison.
"If, for instance, we remove the things that perhaps are drawing the bandits to your patch to a safer location?" Vaisey always did love the dramatic.
"Lord Sheriff, we are respectable," Edward hesitated. "We are not an overly wealthy house, though."
Vaisey's tongue darted out for a moment, as if to taste his success. "Oh, Sir Edward. My concern is strictly for the safety of yourself and your daughter. I will not allow any threat to come near Gisborne's betrothed."
Edward froze. Trapped animals knew when to stop fighting. Marian looked back at Guy, desperate.
(I am as trapped as you. Let me set you free.)
"Gisborne, Sir Edward and I must discuss arrangements and then attend council. Take Lady Marian and find suitable rooms for a lengthier stay, hmm?"
…
Guy tried to soften his footsteps. He sounded like a tromping beast next to Marian's light steps.
He failed.
"I had nothing to do with this."
"I know." Her voice was iron. Neck too rigid.
The keys were in a chest in his office, each one logged in a ledger he maintained himself. Not a single door was unlocked in the castle without his awareness. The maids and porters had keys to domestic spaces, but they all signed the ledger and turned in their keyrings at the end of the day.
As they approached, guards opened the doors. Guy stepped aside for Marian to enter first, then leaned over to a guard. "No one may enter until we leave."
The doors closed and Guy secured the latch, immediately opening the key chest and considering the rooms.
"Your father can have a room with a good fire, and I'll leave instructions to keep it lit. I'll not let him be cold."
Marian paced. "Fine."
"Do you want many windows? The best rooms have more than one."
She stared at the door. "I don't care."
Guy did not like the way she said it. She was not like her father, she would not freeze. Marian's eyes began to widen. She pushed her hair and rubbed her hands together. With her breaths coming fast, she bent and rested her palms on his table, hauling air into her lungs.
With a sharp crack, she slapped a palm onto the polished wood. She gasped, holding her reddening hand.
"Marian," Guy said softly. She did not hear.
Marian backed away from the desk and aimed a kick at a stool, knocking it askew. She pushed at a cabinet and smacked a wall, her ragged breath growing louder. Sent a shield clattering to the floor.
Guy ached for her. He knew the frustration, indignity, the lies (so many lies) and the pointless anger that demanded something, anything, to feed the burn. Pain helped. He knew.
It was when he saw her form a fist. That was the moment. She drew back at those damp, empty stone walls.
When she threw the punch, he caught her fist, whirling her to face him with her momentum. He cradled her bruised fist to his chest.
"No. You'll do yourself harm."
"I don't care!" Her voice was raw.
(I care.)
"The stone cares less. You'll break your hand."
Marian writhed out of his grasp. She was red with rage, shaking with it as she prowled the room. She needed release, to work it out of herself or she'd go mad.
"Hit me."
She stopped. "What?"
Guy stepped closer. "If you need to hit something, hit me. I can take it. You won't injure me."
Marian blinked. "But I will hurt you," she sneered. He'd never seen that.
Guy shrugged and braced for impact.
…
The storm had ended. Marian clung to him and sobbed against his chest, squeezing the fresh bruises forming on his sides. This rage was over, and when she saw how he could make her happy, she would look more gently on him. Maybe even kindly.
He kissed her forehead and straightened her hair and dress. Guy did not like the docile way she followed him to her new room (the flowers were already there), but she did not protest when he called for the maid to prepare a bath.
"I'll go to Knighton tomorrow and bring your things." He kissed her cheek. "Will you dine with me tonight?"
She nodded, then sighed with a shudder.
Someday he'd soothe her hurts in better ways, but until then he would take whatever she gave him. Even her abuse. (I can take it.)