A Place to Call Home Chapter 6, a robin hood bbc fanfic

Title: A Place to Call Home, Chapter Six (7/?)

Rating: This chapter: R (Please note change in rating)

Characters: Guy/Marian

Summary: "I do not love you," she cried in frustration. "Why do you want me?"

A/N: I've set this story immediately after the events of the first season finale. However, I have included information derived from subsequent episodes, in particular from season three's "Bad Blood" used here for my purposes as source material and plot motives for the characters.

As a further note, I personally found the character of Isabella to be a tired and terrible plot contrivance, so for my purposes, she never existed. Guy was raised an only child.

Chapter Six

Marian slept poorly over the next two nights. Plagued by nightmare images of being forced to watch her father arrested and tortured by the Sheriff's men, she tossed and turned in bed.

She had spent the days furiously tending to household affairs, finding therapy in a bucket of hot, soapy water and a scrub brush and not even Alyce's admonitions that it was not fitting for the lady of the manor to be on her hands and knees scrubbing the floor could deter her. She hoped the hard physical labor would be enough to exhaust her into a sound sleep.

Dusk had fallen and the manor was quiet. Guy had not yet returned. The Sheriff had made good on his threats and was keeping Guy on a short leash. Marian had taken her evening meal in the kitchen, as she had done on occasion at Knighton. She had finally made her way to their chamber and found her maid supervising the drawing of a bath.

"Come, my lady. It will do you good." The girl assisted her mistress out of her gown and into the copper tub filled with steaming water.

Marian leaned back against the rim of the tub, allowing the heat of the water and the fragrance of the bath salts to soothe her frayed nerves. She was dimly aware of the maid bustling about the room quietly, laying a bath sheet over the back of a chair near the fire to warm it and setting a small cake of lavender scented soap on a stool within easy reach before leaving the room. And for long moments, she was content simply to drift in that place that was neither sleep nor wakefulness.

She finally roused as the water grew tepid and heard the door swing open.

"The bath has grown cool," she said. "I am ready to get out."

She rose from the tub, stretching luxuriously, enjoying the loose-limbed feel of her muscles after a long, hot soak. Opening her eyes, she let out a tiny shriek.

"What are you doing here?" she gasped as she tried to shield her body from view with her hands.

"Helping my lady from her bath, as instructed." Guy gave the bath sheet in his hands a demonstrative flap.

"You knew, I thought you were my maid." Her voice was high with mortification.

Guy relented slightly, holding the sheet high enough to block his view, but not before he seen her every curve and committed them to his memory.

Marian tried to snatch the cloth from his hands but he held fast.

"Come," he said. "I will help you."

Furious, but desperate to cover herself, she hastily stepped from the tub. Guy took his time winding the sheet around her, tucking the ends securely between her breasts. He lingered there, and could feel her heart pounding against the backs of his fingers where they rested dangerously close to her breasts.

Her cheeks were flushed – from the bath and, no doubt, embarrassment – and her eyes glinted with annoyance.

She was beautiful.

She wrapped her fingers around his wrist in an effort to dislodge his hand but he merely tightened his grip and pulled her closer.

"I want you," he murmured huskily. "You know that."

He slipped one arm around her back and shifted his grip. Tracing his fingers over her skin, he captured a bead of lingering moisture from the hollow at the base of her throat and then traveled back down to lay his open hand over her chest, his fingertips dipping below the folds of cloth to flirt with the soft swells of her breasts. He felt her heart slam once – hard – against the open palm of his hand before setting up a rapid beat.

"I would ask how long you would have me wait." He lowered his head so that she could feel his breath brush against her cheek. "But I know you would tell me forever."

Marian tried to swallow past the lump in her throat. Her mind was jumbled with a dizzying array of images. The memory of Guy acting quickly to protect her from the Sheriff's wrath, despite her betrayal of him was interspersed with flashes of Robin's smile.

"I love another," she choked.

"I know you do." A muscle ticked in his jaw, betraying his frustration, but despite her declaration, his voice was not unkind. "And I know that your life has taken a very different course from the one you had mapped out."

He pulled her close and nestled her against his chest.

"Shall I tell you something I learned long ago?" His voice was a low, soothing cadence in her ear. "I was quite young, not yet a man full grown, when I came to realize that life is not fair and it rarely leads us down the roads we have plotted."

"Do you think that this is the life I imagined for myself? To be landless? Powerless? Hated?" He stroked a hand through her hair. "And yet, here I am. And here you are. You may long for another, but the fact is you are not his wife. You are mine."

"And Marian? Nothing but death will change that."

She found herself oddly hypnotized by the quiet rumble of his voice and the rhythmic stroking of his hand through her hair and she remained there, cocooned in his arms.

Finally, he tipped her chin back and lowered his mouth to hers. She let out a tiny moan when his tongue slipped between her lips. With an answering groan he wrapped his arms tightly around her hips. The world tilted crazily around her as he lifted her from her feet and she flung her arms around his neck to steady herself.

They tore apart and he tipped his head back to look at her. It was a novel situation for her to be able to look down into his face. Mesmerized by the expression of longing etched on his features, she threaded her fingers into his hair and leaned down to press her lips to his.

Guy held himself in check, allowing her to control the kiss until his need grew too great. He carried her to the bed and laid her down in the center.

Marian's heart was pounding with anxiety as he stretched out next to her.

"Shh." He leaned down to kiss her again. His fingers played with her hair and stroked over the soft skin of her throat and face, every move meant to soothe her and help her to relax.

She did not understand what was happening to her or why she felt a building need to get closer to him but the urge to take what she wanted was strong and she opened her mouth to his and met him kiss for kiss, some part of her thinking dreamily that she could stay like this with him forever.

She was jolted from her pleasant haze when she felt his fingers playing with the tucked ends of the bath sheet still wrapped around her. Her own hand flew up to cover his and she gave him a panicked look.

"I want to see you." He tugged insistently at the cloth.

She reluctantly loosened her grip on his hand and rolled her head to the side, squeezing her eyes tightly shut as he peeled the folds of fabric away from her torso. Her skin was berries floating in cream and unable to resist, he lowered his head for a taste.

Marian's eyes flew open at the first touch of his mouth, unprepared for the electric jolt of sensation which shot through her and the sudden clenching of her womb when he drew the tip of her breast into the wet heat of his mouth. She had no idea that a man would… that this was…

Surely it was wrong for anything to feel so good.

"You are beautiful," he murmured.

She sank her fingers into his hair in an attempt to pull him away and instead found that she was holding him close. Lost in a haze of sensation, she was slammed back to reality when she felt him tugging at the sheet, completely exposing her body to his gaze. She scrambled for something to cover herself, but he laid a restraining hand over hers.

"Do not," he breathed.

She burned with humiliation as his hands and eyes swept over every inch of her body.

"Please," she whispered.

"You are the loveliest thing I have ever seen," he promised and staring into his eyes, she believed him.

"I do not know what to do," she finally admitted, her face flushed with embarrassment.

"Just… Will you kiss me?"

She raised a tentative hand to the back of his neck and pulled him down to her. Something about her shy, hesitant kiss set a flame to his needs and he moved over her, crushing her into the bedclothes as his mouth plundered hers.

Frightened by his sudden intensity and her own response to it, she tore away with a gasp.

But he murmured to her softly, each drugging kiss and caress meant to both soothe and arouse and she felt herself giving over to him, as if captured by some spell he was weaving around her.

When he felt her arch against him, he quickly removed his own clothes and stretching out over her - slowly, inch by careful inch – he joined his body to hers. Panting with the effort of his restraint, he buried his face in her hair. His heart pounded in his ears, seeming to echo a chorus of 'mine, mine, mine'.

She squirmed against the slow, burning invasion of his body into hers. Arching her hips in an instinctive move to dislodge him served instead to have him sliding even deeper and she gasped as a shock of pleasure mingled with the pain. She could feel his responding groan reverberate in his chest and her mouth opened in a desperate effort to drag air into her lungs.

Guy levered himself up onto one elbow and using his free hand, brushed a tangle of hair away from her face. Though he sensed that she wanted desperately to look away, she kept her eyes locked on his.

Lowering his mouth to hers, he began to move. At first, slowly. Gently. Watching her face for signs of discomfort and finding none, he set up a rhythm meant to bring them both pleasure.

Yielding to him – yielding to her own growing passions – her hands moved to his shoulders. Nails digging into the hard flesh, her untutored body responded to his wordless commands. His hands moved over her, calloused fingertips igniting and arousing, pushing her to respond. Pain and pleasure mingled in a cacophony of sensation and her hips arched up to meet his as a fever sparked in her blood.

She did not understand what was happening. She was reaching for something – she was unsure of what – but she knew instinctively that it would end the intense, aching need coiling tighter and tighter within her. Her body rose and fell beneath his as they labored together to find release.

And then at last it hit, like a wave breaking over the sand, radiating to the tips of her toes and fingers and she was dimly aware of his choked cry in response.

xxxxxxxxxx

Marian was in hell. What else could explain the constant turmoil with which she now seemed to live? She wanted her husband. It was as simple as that.

And as terrible as that. For she did not want to want him. She tried not to.

She told herself that could not deny him his rights, but she would stay detached. And indeed, each night when he reached for her, she tried to stay aloof. But patiently, determinedly, with skilled hands and mouth, he coaxed and cajoled until she found herself giving over to him.

Responding to him.

Reaching for him.

Those hours spent in his arms were a haze of blissful pleasure. But in the morning's light she was filled with self-recrimination and regret.

She chided herself that it was a betrayal of her feelings for Robin, all the while ignoring the fact that in recent weeks, thoughts of her former love came less and less frequently.

It was a betrayal of her values. For each morning she watched in dread as Guy rode off to do the Sheriff's bidding. And she knew the people of Nottingham and its surrounding villages were suffering.

She found him to be a great puzzle. She wanted to be able to put a label on him, but she was hard-pressed to be able to pin him down. How could the man who brought her so much pleasure be the same man who inflicted so much cruelty on others?

And what did it say of her that she was able to find such pleasure in him?

xxxxxxxxx

Marian was mending the hem of a dress when she heard the quiet commotion outside which signaled Guy's return. She looked up as he entered the room and gasped at the livid bruise forming on his left cheek.

"What happened?"

He shook his head and slumped down into a chair.

"I do not wish to discuss it." He dragged off his gloves and ran his hands through his hair.

She rose and gave quiet instructions for a maid to bring a basin of cool water and a cloth.

"Did the Sheriff do this?" She dipped the cloth into the water and wrung it out.

He hissed as she touched it to his raw flesh and flinched away. "I told you that I did not wish to speak of it."

She folded her arms across her chest and waited in patient silence.

"It was Hood," he said curtly and she wondered if the flush that rose to his cheeks was from embarrassment or anger. More than likely, both.

"What happened?" She soaked the cloth again and held it against his bruised skin.

He sighed and leaned back into his chair. "He and his gang of miscreants set upon us and stole the money we had collected in taxes."

Marian quickly ducked her head but was unable to hide the satisfaction which glinted in her eyes.

"That pleases you," he noted irritably.

She shrugged. "I have never hidden the fact that I do not approve of the Sheriff and his overzealous taxing of people who can ill afford it."

"And do you think that Hood's thievery helps the people?" His tone was lightly mocking but his eyes were dark with anger.

"I know that it does!" she spat. "I have seen good people go hungry. I have seen children lose their parents. Wives lose their husbands – often under your command. I know that Robin seeks to ease their burden – not to add to it. And I know you are a traitor." She lashed out, all of her pent-up frustration and anger – with the Sheriff and with Guy's obedience to his senseless commands – bubbling to the surface in response to his taunting tone.

He laughed derisively. "A traitor! To whom? A King who cares so little for his own people that he has spent only a handful of days in this country since taking the throne?" He settled more comfortably in his chair and peered up into her indignant face.

"In truth," he sneered, "I do not understand your fealty to a king who has no loyalty to his subjects."

"Richard is the rightful King of England," she seethed.

"Perhaps. But he is also a king who cares only for his people as a source of revenue to support his armies."

"That is not true!" she protested. "Richard is a good king and when he returns –"

"'When he returns.' You sound like Hood." Guy let out an ugly laugh. "Richard has no desire to return and little care for the people of his realm. For God's sake, Marian, he does not even speak the language! He will not return to England to save your precious peasants," he shot back. "He will settle – if he ever settles – in his beloved duchy, far, far from these shores."

"You should not speak so cuttingly of your monarch," she said in a voice trembling with barely-suppressed indignation. "He is fighting a Holy War –"

"Is he?" Guy cut in. "Is it a holy war? Or is it a war meant only to swell the Holy Father's coffers and give Richard an outlet for his bloodlust?"

"And I suppose that you would have me believe that John would be the better choice to sit on the throne of England? Your words are not only treasonous, but blasphemous as well!"

"That may be. But as I have no expectation of reaching heaven in the next life, I have found it prudent to see to my needs in this life. And if aligning myself with John can help me achieve my goals, well…" His lips quirked upward in the familiar smirk which she despised and she itched to slap it from his face.

"But Marian, you speak with great authority on something of which you know little. Richard's armies may well wear a blood red cross on their tunics and shields and may ride beneath the papal banner, but in truth he has given very little thought to God."

Marian wanted desperately to argue with him but his words had disconcerted her and she was at a loss as to what to say.

"You see, Marian," Guy propped one elbow on to the arm of his chair and wearily used it to support his head. "You have a fine mind but you are so blinded by loyalty to those you love, that you fail to ask any questions. This is a perfect example. You fight in the name of the King, because Hood tells you that Richard will come back and all will be well for the people of England. But what you do not see is that it is Richard's unquenchable need for war which has helped to beggar so many of his subjects."

Nonplussed by his words, Marian sank slowly into a chair.

"You want to believe that Hood thinks only of the people and their needs. But he does not see – or does not care to see – that his grandiose exploits only serve to heighten the Sheriff's rage. And because Hood takes such pleasure in evading the Sheriff, Vasey must then find another outlet for his anger. And it is the people who suffer again. Hood's intentions may be to help, but you and I both know that he is in it for the glory as well. He very much enjoys being a living legend and as a result, he does as much harm to the people as he does good."

Marian's face was downcast and her fingers tapping against the top of the table betrayed her agitation as his words penetrated. Guy pushed to his feet and laid a gentle hand on her shoulder.

"I think perhaps that you are the only one among us whose motives are pure." He gave her shoulder an encouraging squeeze. "No matter what you may think, I do not want for you to lose that part of yourself."

Tears blurred her vision and she blinked to clear her eyes. "What do you want for yourself?" she asked as she studied a whorl in the wood beneath her fingers with an intensity that would suggest it held the answers to all the world's questions.

"I want land," he said simply. "And power enough to stop anyone from ever taking it from me."

He walked away, hesitating as he reached the doorway.

"And I want you," he said quietly before quitting the room.

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She was unsure how long she remained at the table. Her thoughts swirled like autumn leaves in the wind, her mind flitting from one thing to another.

She tried to viciously squash the doubts he had placed in her head about the King for she had placed all of her hopes for England in his return.

And in Robin.

And yet… Guy's description of Robin did hold some truth. Oh, she still believed in him and what he was doing for the people of Nottingham. But she also knew how much pleasure he took in besting Guy and the Sheriff and she knew that her husband was right when he said that Robin was in part motivated by the adulation tossed his way by the people. And likely by the gang with whom he had surrounded himself.

Robin's unshakeable faith and loyalty to Richard had fueled her own. And she hated that Guy could so simply lay out a case against him as to shake the foundation of her own devotion.

She felt adrift in a boat with no paddles to safely make her way to shore.

And she was no closer to solving the puzzle that was her husband.

She was stirred from her reverie when Thornton appeared at her side.

"My lady?"

She looked up at him with troubled eyes and he gave her a kindly smile.

"How may I be of assistance, Lady Marian?"

"Will you sit with me, Thornton?"

"Of course, my lady." He perched on the chair recently vacated by Guy and waited patiently for her to speak.

"I…" She paused to clear her throat. "I find that I am much confused, Thornton." She wiped an imaginary speck from the top of the table.

"What confuses you, my lady?"

"You do."

"I?" He laid a hand against his chest in surprise. "I do not know what I have done, but –".

"I do not understand… you and the other servants here at Locksley - why do you not fear my husband?"

"Milady?"

"Everywhere else, the people cower in his presence. There is fear in their eyes and in their voices when they speak of him. But not here."

She looked up, confusion stamped on her features. "I know that you love Robin."

"My lady, I –".

"And I know that you and the others have no choice but to serve, but…"

Thornton shifted uncomfortably in his chair, unsure of what to say.

"I have loved the young Master since he was born," he began cautiously. "As I loved his father. I would have faithfully and happily served him until the day I died."

"I know."

Thornton threw a cautious glance over his shoulder and lowered his voice even further. "And if the day comes that Locksley is returned to its rightful owner, I will weep happy tears."

She smiled in acknowledgment of his words and laid a hand over his companionably.

"Who is my husband, Thornton?" The smile slid away from her face. "He is a mystery to me. Capable of such cruelty and yet here at Locksley… the manor servants, the tenant farmers – you – all seem… content."

With the exception of the young Master, Thornton was unused to be spoken to with such frankness from a member of the nobility. But his mistress's face bore such evidence of weary frustration; he was compelled to speak with her as he would his own child.

"I know of the things your husband has done," he said softly. "And of the reasons many have to fear him. But I have reason to know that he was not always such a man."

Marian's brow creased with further confusion and he hurried to continue.

"My lord has a reputation of which we are all aware. But here he has displayed none of the behavior which would cause us to fear. He has been a fair master and has proven himself capable of running the estate. The farms are prosperous and there is no cause – here – for discontent."

"Perhaps it is as simple a thing that he treats the people of Locksley well because it benefits him personally," she mused.

"I do not doubt that is part of it," Thornton agreed. "But I believe there is more to it than that, my lady."

She looked up curiously.

"I believe that he is content here, my lady."

She paused to consider his words. Guy was different at home. His face did not bear the perpetual scowl he wore at the castle. And his demeanor – while not welcoming – was not threatening.

"I believe that he is content because of you, Lady Marian."

Startled, her eyes widened. She opened her mouth to refute his words, but no sound came forth.

"I had cause to speak with Sir Guy before your wedding," the older man admitted. "I was surprised that he took me into his confidence. He confessed to me that he had committed heinous crimes." He chanced laying a fatherly hand over hers.

"But he told me that he believed that marrying you would wash away his crimes. He said that your pure heart would cleanse his," he quoted.

Marian bit her lips as the memory of Guy's words to her at their wedding sounded in her head.

"I believe that he sees you as his salvation, my lady."

"Thank you, Thornton." She forced the words through stiff lips.

Recognizing dismissal in her tone, he rose and giving her hand a gentle squeeze, returned to his duties.

That night, as she listened to the sound of her husband's steady breathing, she lay awake pondering the events of the day, snippets of conversations flitting about in her head, leaving a dull ache behind her eyes.

She thought of Guy's stated desire for land and power and though she had heard him say as much on more than one occasion, this time it was the way in which the words were spoken which gave her pause. She knew he craved power but she found it telling that his desire seemed to be rooted in providing him the ability to protect what was his.

But it was Thornton's words – and the memory of Guy's voice in the church on their wedding day when he told her that she would wash away his sins – which left her restless and unable to sleep.

Did he truly want redemption, she wondered. And was she capable of turning him toward a new life? Could she be his salvation? And if so, what would that mean for all of them?

TBC

A/N: We're getting there. I know that Marian is ping-ponging right now but I cannot see her easily falling in love with Guy or into a life with him. I think she would see it as a battle and would fight it tooth and nail – sometimes senselessly. Updating you on my progress: part of this chapter was snipped from the larger one I had written out of sequence and placed here as I felt it fit best in the context of this chapter. I have the next scene or two mapped out in my head but will be unable to carve out time to write again until sometime next weekend.

In the meantime, I hope you enjoyed this chapter. And I wanted to take the opportunity to thank everyone for their reviews. Constructive and kind, I have appreciated them and your continued interest in this story and willingness to stick with it. – emn