The Sheriff grasped the silver goblet of water. Caressing the cool metal as he stopped to ponder Mortianna's words.

"Something dreadful happened to her." The Sheriff said.

"My Lord?" the crone questioned.

"You didn't see her when she wakened the first time. Her eyes were distant and wild. She was terrified. She wouldn't let me touch her. No! She wouldn't let me near her!"

"What has this to do with the baby she doesn't remember, my Lord?"
"It all pieces together. Whatever happened before she first fainted. When he took the blessed babe from her. It all ties in somehow. He did something to her, I'm sure of it." He said as he took a sip from the goblet.

"That may be, my Lord. But a child is in danger. Your lady, it's mother doesn't know this. She's very fragile. I know you plan to depart soon to search for that child. You mustn't mention it to her." She advised him.

"Fine. Whatever. And when the child comes home, am I to lock it away? Again?"

"One step at a time, my child." She said "You still have to get there first."

"Who's watching my lady now?" the Sheriff interrupted the tedious conversation.

"Lady Margaret is with her." The witch replied. "You must heed my words, my Lord. I don't think it's wise to mention the child to Lady Rhiannon." She again reminded.

The Sheriff took a sip of water from his silver goblet. The same one he was attempting to drink from when the messenger intruded with the loathsome 'fallen Knight's' ransom demands. He was still in a foul temper from that document. This interruption with Mortianna telling him how to manage things with his lady, was too much to tolerate. He'd had enough of being told what to do for one day.

"Thank you Madam. You may go now." He said as he waved her off. She obeyed and left the room quietly.

He paused to take a moment to examine the incredible changes that had occured in his life in such a short span of time. His path came to a crossroads months before and took an entirely different direction. He tried to imagine what he'd be doing right now if he hadn't met Lady Rhiannon last autumn. He knew he had a purpose then, but suddenly he couldn't remember what it was. Ever since he approached her at the garden wall that Sunday in September of last year, he'd forgotten exactly what he'd designated his priorities as. When he thought about it, it encompassed a great deal much to do with his position in town, but nothing to do with him as a person. So what was I doing? He thought. Now, his life was completely different. He'd found the lady of his dreams. He loved her, lost her, then found her again. Then much of his time was spent concerning himself with getting her well, and out of danger. Now he had two people to suddenly worry about. And one very large fish to fry. How life had changed so much for the Sheriff of Nottingham. His mind raced, and he started to wonder about the infant. What would the child be doing at this moment in time? Crying? Sleeping? And then there it was...that gnawing feeling in the pit of his stomach. Worry, almost panic. Again.

The outlaw had left his lady for dead. Bleeding, barely covered in a cold room with a thin sheet for solace. He'd killed several other maidens in the last 2 years and had gotten away with it. The Sheriff couldn't help but wonder, how could a man like that, ever begin to tolerate a small infant, who's needs are so dependent? He shuddered to think how the man was managing the infant. He was enraged to think that the child was spending his or her first weeks of life with that sick murderous bastard, in his and Lady Rhiannon's stead. And there it was again, only this time it wasn't so much fear anymore, but anger. He was beginning to wonder if he knew this 'Fallen Knight'. The one who'd managed to escape capture for 2 years while the Sheriff and his men had scoured the lands looking for any signs of these missing maidens. He'd gotten away with the deaths of those maidens, almost succeeded in making his lady Rhiannon number twenty eight, and now - he'd upped the stakes to child kidnapping. Oh...revenge on this insect was going to be very sweet indeed. He was feeling stirrings of the old Sheriff bubble up to the surface as he briefly imagined various ways of making that miserable outlaw's last hours exceedingly painful.

He banged his fist on the table. He was in danger of losing his senses completely if he allowed himself to think too much on it. He had to do something. He arose and began his usual ritual of pacing. It was then he decided to go upstairs to check on his lady. He was glad she was improving. He loved the sight of her lying on his bed. Her silky hair framed by the satin pillows and linens. She was where she should be. Exactly where she belonged. His Lady Rhiannon. He never knew a woman so brave. She was too deserving. More perfect than his dreams would ever take him. He remembered a conversation a year ago with Guy. Guy asked him, why he'd never married. His reply was easy because he truly always believed it with conviction.

"I've never met a woman deserving enough. I suppose that makes me sound cruel and arrogant. I have no patience for their games. They're shallow, unable to converse, unable to speak without complaining, dispassionate..." Sigh "I could go on but it would take too long." he said nonchalantly. As if companionship didn't matter at all. He had needs like every other man, but he knew how to get what he wanted without the extra bother. It suited him perfectly. Once they began to make demands or complain, they were dismissed. It was a nice little arrangement. It met a basic need. Gave him no purpose but it worked at the time. The more he thought of it, the more he realized that until that September day, he wasn't really living. He was only existing. For what...the reason had completely escaped him now. Lady Rhiannon was too deserving. He did not deserve her. To him she was the image of perfection. He would never wish to go back. Whatever reasons he thought was fueling him before couldn't have been too important, if he now could not identify what that was. Not that long ago. She was heaven sent, which was odd because he no more believed there was a heaven, then he believed there was a god. But maybe, someone was out there watching over him. He would always remember...that precious September.

It was late. He didn't wish to talk to anyone. The Scribe had told him that a few townspeople had gathered and were waiting to discuss recent tax increases with him. He had no patience for this now. He would tell the Scribe to tell the villagers to come back at another time. There were too many matters to consider at the moment. The people would have to wait.

He exited the doorway from the Council Quarters. He saw a group of his advisors speaking with the Scribe down the hall to his right. He snuck away to the left. Immediately again on his left was another hall. A good way of making a fast exit. He could not sustain one more conversation with anyone at the present time. The one person he'd give anything to talk with, couldn't. Right now, all he wanted was to be near her. Especially since being informed she had already awakened once this day. He hoped she would again in his presence. Though not if she didn't recognize him.

Soon he was advancing up the circular stairs and through the oak doors. He loosened the buttons on his coat, removed it, then threw it on a chair. Then he fell into another chair placed close to the fireplace. He needed a few moments to clear the intrusive thoughts from his mind before going in to check on his lady. It had been such an arduous few weeks. No word from Gisborne. He was suspecting the Fallen Knight knew him. Too many oddly familiar things about him. The way he speaks - My Good Sheriff. Not many had given him that title. He truly believed he was acquainted with him in some way. He didn't know how. He was certain though, that the Fallen Knight knew Rhiannon in some way. Somehow he knew where to find her, knew who she was with, knew whom to play. It was as if it had all been staged! Maybe in some sick twisted way, the Fallen Knight had something to do with... I must stop this destructive line of thinking! the Sheriff thought to himself. I'm letting that insect break me.

The Sheriff sat leaned forward on his chair. His left leg was up resting on the table in front of him. He leaned on it, his chin on his hand. Lost in thought, He was seated parallel to the fireplace, the light from the fire casting a glow about him. Eyes closing, remembering her. Remembering September. When he met her. Her passion...He thought he'd heard a noise. In his peripheral vision he saw faint light. He turned to his right. There was light. The oak doors leading to his private chambers were ajar. She stood there. The light behind her gave the appearance there was a halo around her. She stood between the doors, both arms outstretched, a hand grasping the edges of either door. She lowered her eyelids, parted her mouth, then lowered her head. He felt chills rush down his spine. There, standing like that for that brief moment, surrounded by light, she truly looked like a martyr. A very beautiful martyr.

He stood up so abruptly the table in front of him toppled over. Then he recalled the first time she awakened in his presence. When she didn't know him. He advanced slowly, never taking his eyes off of hers. She seemed to be looking through him. She drew him into her in a kind of spell. He was bewitched. He finally stood before her, then advanced. She held out her arms, and placed her hands on his shoulders, then took a step back. She held up a hand to silence him and spoke to him in a whisper.

"My Lord. My Master. You've saved my life. It is time for your reward."

He raised his left eyebrow, in that devilish sexy expression that made her skin tingle with elation.

"It's okay." she said to him "I'm fine."

"I found you and brought you here, my Lady. That is true. It was not I who saved you. The witch Mortianna, and the Midwife, Lady Margaret take the credit for your much improved condition. Though, I fear you are not out of the woods yet." he said to her in a very protective manner.

She lowered her eyes again, looked at him from the corner of her eye, then slowly raised them to meet his. He got chills again. "This reward is best reserved for you...my Lord." she murmured. Then she stepped back one step further. She loosened the sash on her velvet dressing gown, opened it, slid it off her shoulders, and let it fall on the marble floor. And there she stood in front of him. Glowing. Beautiful. Wanting him. Naked...