Marian dutifully tends Edward's shirts. Guy dutifully tends.

Mending

Bright morning sun found the ladies of Nottingham with their sewing in the courtyards adjoining the castle's maze of hanging linens. Rough homespun sheets hung alongside fine linen, drying in the gentle breezes.

The winds also blew a few stray hairs into Marian's nose. She spluttered and nearly dropped her needle as the other women laughed good naturedly.

"You might want to pin that nest back, my lady. Sir Edward might not enjoy a hairshirt!"

Marian giggled and tucked her hair back as best she could. It felt good to be in the sun and away from the gray walls of the castle. It reminded her of Knighton, tending her chores and managing the grounds as lady of the manor. She listened as the women talked fondly of sweethearts and recipes while they mended and for a moment, Marian envied their rich, busy, mundane lives.

Her father's cuffs were frayed from the last few weeks. A few stitches had pulled loose and an ink stain had stubbornly refused to budge.

She must remember to have the cushion on his chair restuffed.

"Have you finished the cuff, my lady? If you like, I'll set your stitching for you?"

Marian refocused. "Thank you, no. I was just checking to make sure they were even." She pushed the needle through and tightened the seam. "I was just thinking about my father."

One of the women nodded. "Your father's a good man, my lady. It's been nice to see him about, even if he isn't the sheriff."

A few others hummed in agreement. "Aye, and he's been up all hours, working away at the desk. I put a dollop of cream in his oats this morn to guard from the cold."

Marian smiled warmly. "I thank you. That was very kind."

After a few more minutes of work, Marian noticed an older woman glancing at her mending. "You'll need a bigger basket before long, my lady."

Before Marian could either ask why or scoff at the woman's impudence, a distant rumble filled her ears. The other women sat up and looked at each other before hunching over the work and hurrying their repairs.

The neigh of horses and shouts for grooms to tend them met Marian's ears. When the sounds of soldiers drew nearer, she looked at her work and kept her eyes down, until she heard him. She was not sure she wanted to see him, but she was certain she could not afford to ignore him.

"When he returns, ask if he could look in on Knighton."

Her father had asked her.

Marian stood. "Sir Guy?"

He stopped and turned, surprised. "Marian?"

Unwilling to risk losing her needle, she gathered Sir Edward's shirt and carried it with her. Guy waved his men on, dismissing them as Marian came to his side.

"How was your visit to Locksley, Sir Guy? We expected your return yesterday. Was all well?"

He blinked, squinting from the sun. "All is well. Some changes have been made and I went to approve the work. The crops grow well and the village seems in order."

Marian fidgeted and adjusted the shirt in her hands to keep her grip on the seam and selected her words carefully. "Good. It's a fine estate."

Guy, sweating slightly from his ride and the warm sun, loosened his coat and opened his collar. The edges of his shirt collar was frayed.

"I intend to keep it so." He held out his arm and Marian lightly took his elbow and walked with Guy to a shaded entryway to the castle.

The shade was refreshing rather than chilling, and Guy opened his coat. The fabric was whole, but poorly finished.

"Guy, I have a request."

He turned sharply. "Anything."

She felt her face warm despite the cool air. "My father asks, when you are able, that you might look in at Knighton for him. He is concerned for his lands, and would like to hear news of the fields and pigs."

Guy walked around her slowly, pacing. "You may tell Sir Edward that the South and West fields are growing very well, the North more slowly. The geese and chickens are off to a slow start but all the pigs survived the spring and the sows have birthed the biggest litters I've ever seen. The gates to the shed could do with a few new boards, but I sent my smith over to repair them so he needn't worry."

He took a step closer. Marian did not step back. "The house is in good order. Your servants are honest. The garden was well planted and the flowers are in bloom. You should have enough beans, oats, and onions to last all winter and more, though, I hope, you might consider having a portion sent… away."

He was so near. Marian breathed in and caught a hint of the pine soap the housekeepers at Locksley favored. A few loose threads along his collar snaked along his neck. Guy looked softer somehow. More human.

"You have already been to Knighton," Marian said quietly.

"Yes," he looked down and frowned at his boots. "I was coming to see you."

"You took great care. Why?"

He swallowed. The loose threads moved with the muscles in his neck. "I wish… I wish to show you a different side of me."

Marian tilted her head, thinking. She was not sure what force drove her, but she raised her free hand slowly, very slowly, to Guy's collar. His eyes tracked her movements, but he did not move away, nor did he lean closer. When her fingertips brushed his warm neck his eyes closed, fluttering.

"Marian," he sighed softly.

She ran her fingertips over the threads. "I thought you only wore leather."

"I wear leather when I am serving Vaisey."

The slightest touch at her back. Guy was holding her ever so lightly, like he feared adding to her confinement.

"I've only seen you in leather," Marian whispered.

"I am always serving him." Guy's voice was little more than a rumble. Marian could feel it in her fingertips.

She touched his collar again, and drew her hand down, skating his chest. "You are wearing linen."

The faint touch at her back changed, materialized. Marian could feel his hands rest against her as he leaned closer, his cheek brushing hers.

"I was serving you."

Her breath caught, and for a moment Marian forgot where she was until a commotion beyond echoed in the hallways.

"Gisborne!"

Guy sighed. When he stepped back, Marian found she had leaned into him and had to steady herself again. The entryway no longer felt like refuge, but the prison Marian knew it to be.

She gripped her father's shirt in her hands and nodded at Guy's unspoken apology. He backed up, moving toward the door as if reluctant to let go of this moment. He opened the door and looked toward the hallway.

"Guy!"

He turned instantly. "Yes?"

Marian's mouth worked over words, none that fit. They went too far, not far enough, or made no sense. Her thoughts jumbled as her image of him rearranged, as if the harsh stones in the walls suddenly shuffled and resettled into something softer.

"Guy, I… thank you."

He bowed. "My lady." The corners of his mouth twitched, and for a moment he was younger, lighter.

But only for a moment.

"Gisborne!"

Guy slipped from the room and back into Vaisey's service, leaving Marian to the silent, gray room, clutching her father's shirt. She waited until she was sure she would not encounter Vaisey then left as quietly as she could, returning to the sunny yard by the laundry.

A few of the women had left, but the older woman who Marian had nearly corrected was still there, her hands flying rapidly through her work.

Marian sat next to her and tried to focus on her stitches. She gave up, and turned to the woman.

"You're right. I need a bigger basket."

The woman smiled.