The wooden wheels of the carriage ricocheted between rock to pothole and back again as they drew near the castle gates in northern England. Mustard yellow curtains sheltered the windows, leaving nothing to see in the courtyard of the castle except the mystery and giddiness surrounding Vesey and his men. All except for Gisborne, that is; he donned the scowl of sheer dislike for this whole situation. The concept of this girl, this wife that was supposed to come out, left such bitterness in his mouth he nearly foamed and vomited. Guy had been swallowed so deeply by his mental anguish and struggle that he could see no depths deeper than where he sat. Now, though, he saw that he was not about to have it any easier. On the bright side, he thought, he wouldn't have to worry about buttering up any more women for his own pleasures.
The car rolled to a halt as the horses thankfully rested after their trek through the woods and streets of this land. The driver, too, seemed worn, but he was living up to his paycheck by dismounting and swinging open the door for the Italian diplomat Vesey had seen but weeks ago. The men shook hands and greeted one another with a plastic front. Guy pretended to watch, but he was too busy shoveling down his burning curiosity. The whole matter of his future seemed unreal, as did she, but he had to know it was actually written. He had to see her face to imagine this could really happen to him. His concerns were torn between the reality that Vesey cared for him only as a game piece, that the last time marriage was in his sights he was publicly humiliated, and that she could possibly be the most unattractive token disposed of to England. All of these felt as sturdy as Marian's punch at the altar.
Agonizingly the Sheriff droned on in his usual manner but, as the sun began to heat the soil for the day, Gisborne could finally pay full attention to the girl in the carriage. The Italian negotiator clicked open the silver handle to the door and allowed it to glide to the left, exposing a step. The deep yellow curtain was also swept aside as the soon to be Lady Gisborne emerged. Dressed in blood red, the petite girl was helped out and into her stride. Guy stood up taller and popped out his chin while analyzing her slim body. Her skin was milky and smooth with only a hint of the rich olive her father boasted. Her face was tall and round and framed by brunette ringlets tumbling down her back, all of which complimented the brilliant emeralds she had for eyes. The rose lips that formed a meek smile were as soft and curved as her body. Once she approached, Guy could tell that not only did she only come up to his shoulders, but she was clearly as uncomfortable with it all as he was.
"Sir Guy of Gisborne," Vesey's new friend announced with vigor, "I present you Giuliana Elisa Brambati, your wife." The pair cringed a bit at the phrase and locked eyes for the first time. Both were displaying a level of scrutiny over the other, formulating opinions and trying to find something to love before they even said a word. As moments passed they stretched, yanked to extension like hours, before the man in black and his girl in red. Eventually as the sun clicked down festivities broke out alongside drinks, snacks, and dancing. Gisborne, though, remained as a statue on the fringe of this celebration. He was not in combat over feelings; in fact, his heart and mind were both trying to whip up an emotion over it all.
The setting sun clicked down into a pink sky as a signal that the party was tapering to a close. It had all been a blur to Vesey's henchman, so he didn't particularly mind. The crowd in the courtyard thinned out as rumors over Gisborne's future flooded the civilan streets just outside his gates. Across the way and seated on the steps sat Giuliana, alone, as she had been throughout the day, catching Guy's attention. She watched as he set down his goblet and waltzed over, prideful, tall, and hard. She knew he was attempting to just get it over with; after all, she felt the identical sensation in her stomach. It was one of dread and excitement. He placed himself a good foot away and averted his gaze for a moment before seating himself. Soon the crystal blue eyes that usually held so much anger floated up with half-hearted kindness.
"Lady Giuliana."
"Sir Guy." She glanced off, breaking the stare, before looking back with the stiff awkwardness that stained the oxygen around them.
"I trust your travels were pleasant, Giuliana."
"Okay," she suddenly burst in, "This will not work if you keep calling me by my full name. Liana, please." Her shining jewel tone eyes pleaded to him with a fatigue that her psyche had sketched over the past week. Gisborne pursed his lips and nodded.
"You sound English." he changed the subject, sweeping a hand through his hair. God how they both despised being here.
"I was tutored by a man from London all my life. Always wanted to come, but not like this." she rolled her eyes with a huff. She seemed solidly unapologetic.
"I hope you don't believe I want you here." Guy shot back with a laugh.
"Oh really? I'm only twenty one and unmarried, what's your explanation then, huh?"
"Why should I have to explain myself to you? You're just some girl who is worth no more than a bargaining chip to her family."
"Aw yeah, you must really be loved, too, mate." Liana spat, her slim arms folding across her chest. A fury brewed within Gisborne and swirled under his leather shell. This woman implanted an itch in his muscle tissue that led him to nearly storm away; he had not been this aggravated by a woman since his last wedding. In fact, Marian's flaws seemed far more luxurious that this Italian's attitude. Suddenly she placed a hand on his knee and turned back to face him. Strings of rounded hair dripped over her shoulder as her eyes gazed emotionally into his own facial barrier. Her round chin tilted up slightly to see him and, in this moment, Guy was frozen in the realization of her beauty and femininity.
"I know you must be uncomfortable here." Gisborne heard himself mutter. None of his irritation had evaporated, but he had to hand it to her, she knew how to hypnotize him.
"My apologies, really. My tongue gets the better of me all the time, Sir Guy."
"Guy," he answered, "Just call me Guy." His stubble parted for a small grin as she reciprocated it.
"I feel like they just want to have a reason to celebrate for themselves, not for me." Liana sighed as she watch the last trickle of guests slink out before the gate fell back into its dormant blockade.
"People will never care about what you want or feel over their own whims," he bitterly said, "believe me."
"Well we will just have to talk foul about them together, won't we?" Liana smiled again. A youthful radiance gleamed from her round cheeks. Guy laughed with sincerity. Their amused faces did not fade as the forced couple gazed into each other's eyes. Perhaps it would not be so bad, they imagined, if they kept a sense of humor among them.