And so, despite her earlier protestations to the contrary, she yielded to the advice of the elder ladies in charge of her care….
Her dreams were mainly made up of memories…the taste of her dark prince's kiss when his lips met hers on a misty gloomy September Sunday. Yet a light seemed to appear around them. The scent of dew on the leaves of the fragrant white roses. Heather. Musk. New English leather. A flash of his mysterious hazel eyes burning into her soul. Seductive. Dangerous. Able to conceal volumes about his character. His thoughts. And then, playing in slowed motion in the depths of her subconscious – in the den outside of her lover's private chambers. The touch of his hand as she grasped the cool metal of the silver goblet, when he handed her the tincture of rapture. A special issue made especially for the Sheriff by the Benedictine Monks in 1194, she would later find out. The taste that started it all. Next she was in his arms holding him closer to her than she ever imagined in her darkest fantasies. His breath upon her ear. The way the chill down her spine preceded his touch when she felt the energy of his hands near her receptive skin. Glowing like honey in the firelight. His perfect lips brushing hers as he kissed her and whispered words of pure sugar. The way he felt moving inside of her. That familiar ache to feel him within her, again. She felt warmth. Very brief warmth.
Then, a cold menacing touch clasping her slender throat juxtaposed the earlier scene that flashed in her dreams….
"Are you obtuse as well?" the cold sinister voice said. "Don't expect to live much longer after….." again the words even in dreams would not present. The phrase left open to suggestion. The memory of being taken by surprise, and grabbed in the garden. The cold hard object that hit her head. The stars. The pain. The blackness. The words she said aloud in a prison cell.
"My Lord….you must come quick! ….bleeding….our"… Another phrase that wouldn't complete itself in the dream.
She was suddenly aware she was being shaken. She was beginning to find her way out of the dream that turned into the nightmare.
"Rhiannon! Rhiannon, open your eyes, dear girl. It's nearing midday for the love of Mary!" Meridwyn called.
"Oh? Oh! Yes. Oh my…midday?" She said as she sat up. She felt the back of her head with her hand, remembering what had unfolded in her dreams.
"Are you quite yourself?" Meridwyn asked.
Rhiannon, seated on the bed in a lavender gown, with gossamer sleeves the colour of a January moon, was a vision. Meridwyn suddenly couldn't picture her upon a horse.
"Oh yes. I was just rather tired this morning." Rhiannon replied as she arose and walked toward a velvet upholstered chair to seat herself. She smoothed her skirts as she smiled at Lady Meridwyn.
"How are you now, then?" Meridwyn prodded.
"Very well."
"Good. Because I've been considering some things." Meridwyn found a matching chair near to Rhiannon and slumped upon it. "There's a lot wrong with the thought of remaining in this castle for any length of time without the company of Guy and your Sheriff. And furthermore….we shall go mad, Rhiannon!" She moved forward towards her, her summer sky blue eyes pleading. She started to shake her head. "You were right."
Rhiannon squinted her eyes, puzzled. "What are you attempting to convey, Meridwyn?" she asked.
"Let's do it! Let's travel onwards to the north." Meridwyn replied in an excited tone.
"You are telling me now, that you wish to look for our lovers, dear Meridwyn?" she inquired with knowing grin. She needed to hear this again.
"Yes." She smiled. "I believe it's best. I have a strong perception that madman is on his way here. Remember our earlier conversation, dear friend? We both escaped."
Rhiannon's smile faded like a whisper.
"And, assurance." Meridwyn continued "I want to be near my lover. I need to feel safe again. What good are two old crones, a daft old scribe, and Nottingham's guards? What good did those incompetent guards do for you last autumn, Rhiannon?! Tell me!" she exclaimed.
Rhiannon was quick to agree. "Absolutely, Meridwyn. My lover should most certainly terminate them!"
"How soon may we depart do you think?" Meridwyn asked.
"We must figure out how to fool them. It would have to take place after dusk. We must wear dark clothing. We don't want them to notice us. They shall surely follow us!"
"Yes, this will take some planning." Meridwyn agreed.
"I've got all day. So do you. We'll get there, dear Meridwyn."
And together they spent the rest of the afternoon scheming and devising methods for an escape from Nottingham to search for their lovers who were far into the distance. Unaware of the menacing man in between here and there who was on a mission. Looking for Lady Rhiannon. The woman he saw in a village in the North and grew to love from afar. Until he followed her back to Nottingham. Followed her practically every day, when he wasn't busying himself capturing and murdering other women. And then, the horror of watching her in the cathedral foyer, begin to seduce his enemy. He waited, lurking in the distance. Then much later, lurking in the garden. He toyed with the idea of killing the Sheriff then. Instead he came up with a much greater plan. Kidnap his lover. He was planning to kill the wench until he could see she was with child. Then he had another masterful plan. Use the child to further torture the Good Sheriff of Nottingham. And besides the Sheriff's Lady, there was another maid in Nottingham who'd escaped him. Another beautiful, fiery spirit he owed a visit to. He wasn't just headed to Nottingham for one maid. He was going back to the beginning. Where the killing and revenge all began. He was planning to capture the two beauties who got away. The two maidens who no doubt thought one day they'd reign supreme in Nottingham, with the loathed Sheriff and his cousin, Gisborne. Might as well make it a family affair! He thought. And suddenly, he was reminded of his own. If he could call it a family. They were never together. They were forever apart.
He stared into the fire that night. As he was taking a rest from his long journey to Nottingham. "There's only one thing left to do with you before I kill you, my Good Sheriff." He hissed. "Send you as insane as I in the moments preceding it. As long as it takes. Whatever it takes me to do." He said with a satisfied grin.
The Sheriff slept better than he had in awhile due to sheer exhaustion. His repose filled with blissful images of his lady.
In his dreams he could envision her as vivid as day. Her sultry green eyes, her shiny sable hair. She was alluring and magnetic and he was drawn in beyond return. He could see her when she cast her first glance upon him.
The look on her face as he ravished her in his bed. Her smile. Her warmth. The way she made him strive to be a better man. Then, a sudden gnawing in his gut as his built in alarm kicked in to jolt him back to reality at the break of dawn.
As he and Guy started on their hasty journey, he was quiet and kept to himself for most of the first day they traveled. He knew his cousin would understand. Guy knew him well enough to know that when the Sheriff had much on his mind, he needed quiet to lend contemplation of his plans. In this case however, he wasn't making concrete plans. Instead he was tormenting himself with excess worry.
Finally, when nearing the end of the day and they were again planning to stop and rest for the night, he opened conversation with his cousin.
"Cousin, are you holding up? I refer to our ladies. You seem less concerned than I am." He inquired, puzzled.
"I'm not thinking about it. Neither should you, cousin." Guy replied.
"I can't help but worry somewhat."
"We have a task at hand, sire. In my mind, I won't be any use to Meridwyn if I lose focus. You already know this. I learned this from you!" he stated, rather bewildered at the Sheriff's change in behaviour. For many years, the Sheriff was unable to be distracted by anything, no matter what situation they'd encountered together. Even during the siege in Sherwood Forest when Locksley and his band of outlaws took them by surprise, the Sheriff never wavered.
"I loathe this feeling, cousin. You were right. It makes me feel….weakened." he hesitated to say the word. He hated the word. "I must cease worrying, I know it. But I….love her." His words trailed off as he pondered the statement.
"Of course you do, cousin. You asked for her hand?!"
"Yes, but. I didn't realize how deeply until now. I knew she was meant to be my wife. I just didn't know a man could love his betrothed the way I love my Rhiannon. How can a man about to be married be so happy?" he asked.
Guy was surprised to note that the expression on his cousin's face indicated that he was not jesting.
The Sheriff added "I don't know any married man to be this happy?" He suddenly noted the awestruck expression on Guy's face and with his eyebrow raised he said "Why are you looking at me like that?"
"I don't know. Puzzled by that statement. But then again, it pleases me to know that some of the old you is still in there."
"I never left, cousin." The Sheriff said.
"On the contrary, sire. The day you met the Lady Rhiannon, a part of you left forever."
"Perhaps." He mused. "But if I had less people to concern myself over, it would be much easier!"
The town blacksmith was preparing to meet with the swordsmith following supper with his wife when the miracle happened. He opened the heavy oak door and his boot almost made contact with the basket placed on his doorstep.
Inside the basket lay an infant wrapped in soft white blankets. Like a little cherub nestled on a cloud. The child was asleep despite the chill in the evening air. He picked up the basket and took it inside.
His wife was in the sitting room, seated on a chair penning a letter to a sick relative. She looked up, surprised to see her husband standing before her again so soon. Wondering what he was doing holding a basket?
"My dearest wife." He smiled. "Our prayers have been answered!" he began.
Her eyes widened and brimmed with tears as he continued.
"God has brought us a baby." He said softly as he took the basket containing the dark curly haired, green eyed infant to his wife.
Considering all she'd been through, Lady Rhiannon seemed more fit for the journey ahead. Meridwyn on the other hand, was slightly apprehensive.
They managed to find a map – a copy containing illustrated back roads penned by the Scribe for the Sheriff. Rhiannon and Meridwyn hoped the map would hasten their arrival time. After all, why else would they be noted on the map? The Sheriff and Guy would need to know the fastest route possible when in pursuit of an outlaw. As they were doing right now. The ladies' intentions to utilize the map made sense to them. Their decision to follow it was the worst mistake they could make.
When the moon was high they chose that time to steal into the Sheriff's stables to 'borrow' a couple of horses. They chose ones with dark coats, that would be hard to see at night. Both the ladies wore long dark capes as well in an effort to conceal them in the darkness.
Rhiannon was leading the way, sometimes at a pace too fast for Meridwyn to keep up with. At one point, Rhiannon pulled on the reins to stop her horse and eased the horse around to face Meridwyn, who was lagging.
"Meridwyn!" she called. "Do hurry!"
Meridwyn approached and gave her friend a disgruntled look as the moonlight danced on her face and her hair and said "I'm no expert horseman, Rhiannon. I told you that before. And it's difficult to focus my eyes in this blackness! Why did you pick the middle of the night to embark?" she asked.
"Because. You know why. We mustn't be seen."
"Well it's working. Because I can't see you half the time!" Meridwyn said.
"I'll try to move a little slower. But you know why we had to wear these dark cloaks. Anything to keep us from being spotted."
"Yes. And I'm sure that murderous madman could be thinking the same thing!" Meridwyn replied.
"The Sheriff and Guy are after him, Meridwyn. You shouldn't worry yourself so much about that. We need to concentrate on our reason for departing. We're looking for our lovers are we not?" Rhiannon said as they both kicked their horses into a gallop again.
"Yes. I wish I could shake this dreadful feeling about that man, though." Meridwyn said.
"You'll feel so much better when we find them. I will." Rhiannon reassured.
"It's times like this I wish Guy wasn't the Deputy of Nottingham." Meridwyn said. "I'd be happier to see him at home. Even better, in his bed. Where no danger lurks."
"Well, we could go back." Rhiannon suggested. Meridwyn cast a curious look upon her. "We could just sit and wait for them to return to us. Until, well, I don't know when…."
"No. Let's keep going." Meridwyn said. "I don't like this chasing after them on horses in the middle of the night, but I shall be relieved when he's nearer to me."
Rhiannon nodded an agreement, and was suddenly aware of the familiar feeling of fatigue and weakness that sometimes came over her. She hadn't felt quite herself in a long time. She couldn't remember the last time she felt perfectly fit. Maybe the first night she shared with the Sheriff. The more she thought about it, she realized that was one of the last times she felt so well. So happy. So safe. Even when she was intimate with her man right before his last departure she didn't feel quite her best. So much remained hidden. Repressed. She knew there was so much more than what her mind was permitting her to remember about that dreadful time. She came to the conclusion that there was a good reason she couldn't remember everything. It must be so awful it was worth burying. She realized she needed to stop torturing herself trying to recall whatever dark secrets that were best kept hidden, and focus on finding the Sheriff.
How she missed him. She wondered what he was doing at this moment. Was he thinking of her? She imagined his hazel eyes staring up at the sky, thinking of her. Then she saw his eyes meet hers in flashes of memory. Those piercing sexy eyes, seering into her soul. His warm breath on her neck before he kissed her. She hoped she'd find the Sheriff soon.
Even unconscious, he couldn't banish her from his dreams. During the waking hours he tried not to think of her. Taking some good advice from his cousin. But in dreams, he couldn't help suppress the memories of her. The nearness of her. The taste of her….
He tensed his facial muscles. A ripple of heat started in his skin, slowly….while he remembered some of their first night together.
"Rhiannon." He breathed "Are you sure you want this?"
"Mm hmm." She murmured an agreement as she kissed his chest. He grabbed her face and urged her to look at him.
"Tell me you want this!" he said more forcefully
"I'm very sure." She breathed in his ear.
He grabbed the back of her head to pull her in closely to him.
"I need you…." She whispered just before his mouth landed hard upon hers. Hungry. Hungry for the taste of her.
Somewhere in his subconscious he was aware this wasn't real. He wanted it to be real. Despite the vague knowledge to the contrary his body responded. The ripple of heat slowly spread and coursed through him. He could almost feel her lips on his, her tongue on his tongue. Her soft firm breasts, and silky skin. He could almost feel her closing her legs around him. Her hot wetness as he plunged deep inside of her. He tossed about in his cot during his blissful bittersweet dream. Because he knew – this wasn't real. It was a memory. Her naked body responding to him. Opening to him. Submitting to him. He remembered. Beautiful. Sweet. Sensuous. Responsive Rhiannon. Better than any treasure.
He moaned softly in his sleep as the dream faded away. His body still on fire for hers. Yearning for her like she was water or air. He literally awoke gasping. He opened his eyes briefly. He remembered the dream, in vague flashes but his memory of that night wasn't lost. He reached over for his flask of water and took a sip, as it all came back to him. Frustrated, he set the flask back down. It was clear to him he'd never rest until he was holding her next to him again. He realized he'd be hard pressed to resist her when he saw her next. He hoped they'd be alone.
"My lady, Rhiannon…" he whispered, like a prayer "I've never loved anyone. Until you."
His black cloak felt soft and oddly furry next to her cheek. Her vision was blurred but she felt him. He touched her cheek, lifted her chin up to meet his eyes with his gloved hand.
She looked into his sexy hazel eyes, trying hard to focus. He made her melt. Her own eyes misted over in desire.
"Rhiannon." He spoke "What do you see? When you look at me that way. What do you see?"
"Dangerous excitement. Fiery passion." She whispered hoarsely. Her throat was dry.
"Is that what you want, my lady?"
"Yes." She answered. "Not just what I want but….you give me what I need."
He looked down at her and smiled. "Oh, my lady." His chocolate voice sighed. "You always know what to say and do to set my soul on fire." He kissed her then, and held her to him. Then she rested back against his chest. Against his soft cloak. His rather furry cloak….
"Rhiannon!" Meridwyn called out from a distant place. "Wake up!"
She awoke bent forward with her cheek resting on the horse's neck. She wished her brief beautiful dream was real.
"I knew it!" Meridwyn said as she brought the horse up alongside Rhiannon's and slowed it to a halt. "We should've waited a day or two. You're still not recuperated."
"I'm fine." Rhiannon said as she sat upright and smoothed her face and hair. She put the hood of her black cape back over head. "Wait a few more days?" she turned to face Meridwyn. Her green eyes ablaze in the moonlight. "In there? Without our lovers that castle may as well have been a prison! Forced to sit, biding our time with idle chatter and wait tediously – with nothing useful to occupy our time with? No means of escape? As it was we had to steal these horses!" She smoothed her skirts, and checked to make sure the dagger was still in her pocket. The one she stole from the Sheriff's private chambers. The horses, and the dagger. She couldn't think about that now. She'd think about that later.
Meridwyn just looked at her. Rather perplexed by Rhiannon's sudden outburst. Pent up frustration, she supposed. It was no wonder. Lady Rhiannon managed her estate on her own before all of this happened. All control was stripped from her. Meridwyn suddenly realized what Rhiannon possessed that most women – including herself, did not. Independence. Self assurance. Truthfully, Rhiannon proved she didn't need anybody. Maybe that was what it was about her that captivated the Sheriff of Nottingham? Meridwyn had known him for years. No woman had ever completely captivated the Sheriff. Had ever made him care that much. Ever. She tried to hide a smile of amusement when she realized – "He's angry deep down that she doesn't truly need him! He wants her to need him!..."
"You're not saying a word." Rhiannon interrupted her thoughts. "Do you not agree that it was best to depart when we did?" Rhiannon asked.
"Yes and no. I only have doubts now, because I fear I put my own needs ahead of yours. You've only recently recovered from a terrible ordeal. I forgot all about that when I came to you at midday with a change in heart about your idea to pursue Guy and the Sheriff on horses." Meridwyn still found it hard to hide a smile. So she tried to keep her profile hidden in her hood as much as possible for the time being.
"I'm perfectly recovered, dear friend." Rhiannon said as they urged their horses into a canter. "I don't need anything – just the moon to light our paths right now."
"Yes, interesting." Meridwyn commented softly.
"What's that, Meridwyn?"
"Oh. Yes – it would seem." She lied.
