It wasn't supposed to be like this.
It was her fault...hers and Locksley's. With forced breaths, Guy of Gisbourne stared at the woman tied to the bed with intense hatred, fighting back his urge to run her through with his sword.
She lay perfectly still, almost as if she were already dead, bruised and battered by his hands, looking out the window with vacant unseeing eyes.
It wasn't supposed to be like this. It never had been this way in his imaginings.
Tonight, after so many years of wanting her, he had taken her at last, fighting through her kicking and her thrashing, silencing her screams with his mouth, scratching and beating and clawing his way to force her into submission.
And now that he had finally forced her to be his own, she lay battered and numb and silent, not even looking at him, her eyes devoid of their customary sparkle, farther away from him than she had ever been.
It wasn't supposed to be like this.
What did he feel? Anger...disappointment. He felt cheated.
After years and years of fantasizing about this perfect night, he had discovered she was only a woman after all. Her loins held no extraordinary magic, no special powers to thrill him beyond reason. His coupling with her did not wash him from his sins...in fact, it made him feel more dirty than ever before. She was no different than any other whore!
He looked at her lying on the bed, so distant in her mind from him. Her lips were bruised, her eye blackened, her jaw broken, one arm wrenched from its socket. Exhausted from their battle...and more than subdued. Broken.
It was her fault.
She should have chosen him! He had offered her everything...his home, his wealth, his heart, his body...everything, and she had rejected him! Rejected him! She had smiled at him, pretended to befriend him, acted as though she believed in him, but then had betrayed him with Hood, over and over again! She had even tried to kill him, and had believed she had succeeded! What a surprise he had given her tonight!
Using the back of his hand, Gisbourne wiped blood from his mouth...his own blood, brought on by her having biten him. But she hadn't biten because of passion, but because she had struggled to be free.
She wasn't free now, was she? She was his, to do with whatever he willed. It should be sweet, but he was in the depths of hell.
She had betrayed him, over and over, and by God, he would drag her to hell with him!
As he stared at her, his mind replayed all the injuries she had done to him over the years...she, who professed to be his friend. No friend...she was his enemy, even more than Hood.
At last he spoke. "I should have known," he spat. "You led me to believe you'd be special in bed. Like every other thing you told me, you lied."
Her voice was so cold, he barely recognized it. "Get out of my house," she ordered through clenched teeth.
He stepped to the bed and slapped her hard across her face. Blood spurted from her nose, and she uttered a small cry. But Marian rarely cried. He must have really hurt her. It was her fault! She had made him do it!
"I offered you everything!" he cried, with the pent up passion of years.
She turned cold, defiant eyes on him. "I believed you had a heart. I was mistaken." She turned her face away again.
"I showed you another side of me, and you rejected it!"
"Get out of my house," she said again.
"I loved you! You should have been mine!" He was growing hysterical, but she didn't care. She had numbed herself, so as not to feel. She had not cried...she wouldn't give him the satisfaction. She wanted this nightmare to end, but she had no idea it was just beginning.