Later, Rhiannon was urging the Sheriff's black mare down an old familiar path. She never asked permission. She needed to do something and she didn't wish to go to the bother of begging, and then, ultimately arguing with him. It wasn't the first time she chose to 'borrow' one of his horses.
The day was gloomy and warm, the air thick with the portents of impending rain. She was glad she didn't need to venture too far outside of the village. She planned to be brief.
The familiar grey stone tenth century estate appeared finally, up ahead and to the left. As she secured the horse twenty yards away from the front door, she suddenly realized that the last time she stepped out of that door, her life would change forever.
She extracted a key and proceeded to unlock the door. Once inside, she immediately heard footsteps fast approaching.
"My lady! You've returned! Have you finally recovered?" Rebeccah said as she came toward Rhiannon to greet her.
"Lady Rebeccah. How fare thee? What news?" Rhiannon asked.
"I am well, my lady." Rebeccah smiled. Rebeccah had an infectious smile. She was medium height, slender, and much older than Rhiannon. Still, she was fairly attractive. She had shiny dark hair, brown eyes, and a long pointy nose. She continued. "Are you coming back now that you've recovered?" She asked.
"I just wanted to stop by and check on matters of the household." Rhiannon cleared her throat. "I need to discuss some matters with you, Rebeccah." Rhiannon said. "I am not coming back. I am going to be married."
"To the Sheriff?" Rebeccah blurted. She was unable to conceal her surprise.
"Yes, to the Sheriff! Who else!" Rhiannon replied. "You seem rather surprised."
"Well, I knew that he loved you, but, forgive me…" Rebeccah muttered.
"But…what?"
"Well, my lady, I just never saw him as the marrying kind." Rebeccah said.
"Yes. That's what they all say." Rhiannon sighed. "But you heed my words: You work for me. And George of the House of Nottingham is to be my husband. I will not hear of you insulting him. I can tolerate that from ignorant villagers, but I will not tolerate that from you!" Lady Rhiannon exclaimed.
Lady Rebeccah was surprised by Lady Rhiannon's warning. There was a shadow of a dangerous edge in her tone. It seemed perhaps, the Sheriff of Nottingham was rubbing off on her.
Lady Rhiannon started to walk slowly through the rooms, taking a glance to make certain nothing was out of place and properly attended to. Rebeccah followed closely behind.
"You confuse me, my lady." Rebeccah began. "You said you will be married. So, will you not be selling your home? You will be living at Nottingham Castle will you not?" Lady Rebeccah asked.
Rhiannon turned to face Rebeccah. "I am living at Nottingham Castle. I'm not coming back here to live. But I will retain the rights to this manor and the property." Rhiannon announced.
"But, my lady, when you marry the Sheriff, this home shall become his!" Rebeccah pointed out.
"It is my home! It is all I have left of myself. Of my family." Rhiannon said. "True, this is not the home I grew up in. But I bought this home with the money left to me from the home we lived in. Everything that surrounded me in my childhood home is within these walls. Don't you dare tell me this is not indeed, mine!" Rhiannon exclaimed.
"You could just transfer all of your belongings to Nottingham Castle?" Rebeccah suggested.
"No." Rhiannon said. "Some things will come with me, but…do not question me! Now, you never answered me, Rebeccah. What news is there?"
"I have news that I'd normally consider good news, but now I'm not so sure." Rebeccah said.
Rhiannon raised her eyebrow and regarded Rebeccah curiously.
"Your taxes have been reduced." Rebeccah announced.
Rhiannon smiled and slowly shook her head. "He reduced my taxes…how charming of him." She sighed.
"Actually, my lady, he did more than that." Rebeccah said.
Rhiannon looked up, squinting her eyes, questioningly.
"He removed your taxes completely." Lady Rebeccah said. "You've been exempted from paying property tax…forever."
"What?" Lady Rhiannon exclaimed. She was astonished. "Well, I shall have to speak to my Lord. I shouldn't be treated any differently than anyone else in his county."
"Yes, my lady." Lady Rebeccah said. There was no use arguing with her.
"How fares my horse?" Rhiannon asked.
"Fine, my lady."
"Good. I would like to arrange for her to be brought to the Sheriff's stables. It is loathsome being reduced to begging, or in my case – stealing, in order to get around this town!" Rhiannon huffed.
"I will speak to the stable master, my lady." Rebeccah agreed.
"Do it today." Rhiannon instructed. "I want my horse brought to the castle tomorrow. I shall notify my Lord of this today."
"Yes, my lady." Rebeccah said.
As Rhiannon was turning to leave, Rebeccah had a sudden thought.
"My lady, if I may?" Rebeccah began.
"Yes?"
"Do you remember three years ago, when you thought I was taking a vacation?" Rebeccah asked.
"Yes. Weren't you?" Rhiannon asked, slightly puzzled by the topic of discussion.
"No." Rebeccah cleared her throat. "I was helping out a friend. You see, my friend, Sarah was sent at that time on a mission with an emissary of Bishop of Hereford's to deliver an important document to the King. She asked if I could take her place at the Dubois home." Rebeccah stated.
"Yes, Rebeccah, what does this have to do with…"
"I received word from Lady Dubois that she is coming to Nottingham for a brief visit. May I invite her to visit me here, as I stay and watch your manor, for a brief cup of tea?" Rebeccah asked.
"I don't see why not." Lady Rhiannon said.
"Thank you, my lady." Lady Rebeccah smiled as they said goodbye.
_________________________________________________________________________________________________________
The Fallen Knight was puzzled by this one. She was a little different than the others.
He sat by a fire in an abandoned cabin in the north. The same cabin he once held his Lady Meridwyn in, along with the Sheriff's wench, just about a month ago. How things had changed since he managed his escaped from the dungeon of Nottingham Castle.
He smiled. He wondered how long it would take the Sheriff to figure it out. He had his answer nearly a fortnight ago, when heralds announced the public execution of Hector of Nettlestone, scheduled on the fourteenth in the village square in Nottingham. Poor Hector. A trusting, yet misguided soul.
After his escape, he made his way north. He managed to find two pretty maidens to amuse him for a time. But, soon he grew tired of them. Then he disposed of them.
But this one…she was different.
He was standing over her when she awoke on a small cot in the cold, dark room he held her in. He remembered….
She opened her eyes. "You've awakened." He breathed.
The young maiden rubbed her eyes. She suddenly remembered.
"What are you waiting for? Do it." She said.
"Do what?" He asked slowly, taunting her. For, he knew exactly what she meant.
"Kill me. Get it over with." The beautiful young maiden said.
"There, there. Did someone die on you, my precious?" The Fallen Knight smirked as he stroked her cheek with his hand. She flinched. He continued. "For I did notice - you're wearing the colour of mourning."
"I'm dead anyway." She muttered.
He paused a moment. His forceful hand still on her cheek. Then he raked his fingers through her long golden tresses as he looked into her blue eyes. The colour of a summer sky. The same colour eyes as…Meridwyn's.
"No. I don't think so. Not yet." The Fallen Knight whispered as he leaned forward close to her left ear. "There's too many games I wish to play with you before I end your despair." He hissed.
She looked down but he grabbed her face with both of his hands, and forced it upward. She met his gaze.
"Do what you want with me." The golden haired maid of Nottingham said evenly. "I told you…I am already dead."
"You're telling me then…that you're impervious to pain?" The Fallen Knight asked.
"Indeed." The maid of Nottingham said.
"On the contrary, wench! Maybe I can wake you up?"
She looked up into his eyes. Cold, steel grey eyes. They lacked depth. They lacked emotion. They were just simply…cold.
"Whatever it is that made you give up, is nothing compared to what I have in store for you to wake you from that boring state you're in." He sneered.
Yes, there was definitely something about this one. He realized he had no wish to kill her…yet. She could indeed serve a very fine purpose. It had been a long time since he indulged in these games. The last two wenches did nothing to inspire him or captivate his attention. But this bonny blue eyed maid, this beautiful golden haired maid of Nottingham, was going to prove very interesting.
___________________________________________________________________________________________________________
The Sheriff was present in the Council Quarters with his Scribe, his page, and a young man found in the village who was known to be a superior artist. The young man was studying the drawings the Sheriff had shown to him.
"Can you recreate these drawings?" The Sheriff asked him.
"Yes. I believe I can." The young man replied confidently.
"I need more than one copy. I need several, in fact. These shall be posted throughout the realm. I need both of their images in the center of a large document. There needs to be room for writing. The images are to be shown on a proclamation, you see." The Sheriff explained.
"Indeed. Perhaps you can tell me what will be written on the proclamation so that I know how much space to leave, and how much I have to work with?" The young man suggested.
"My Scribe will give you a copy of it." The Sheriff said. He looked to the Scribe. The Scribe nodded agreement. The Sheriff turned once more to the artist.
"How long will this take?" The Sheriff asked.
"It will take me some time. But I do have an assistant who can help me. He's very good with drawing as well. Together, we could get these documents ready for you rather expediently." The young man assured.
"Good." The Sheriff remarked. "And how expediently will that be?"
"Probably, two or three days." The young man said.
"Then you had better begin." The Sheriff said. He gestured toward the table, motioning for the young man to take a seat.
"What supplies do you require?" The Sheriff asked him.
"I need parchment paper, charcoal, ink, my plume quill, and plenty of light." The artist replied.
"Page!" The Sheriff called to the young blond haired lad.
"Yes, sir?"
"Go into the village and obtain the aforementioned supplies." The Sheriff instructed.
The page looked up at him curiously.
The Sheriff looked to the Scribe. "Oh for God's sake, give him a crown to buy these items with!" He commanded.
"And my quill." The artist reminded.
"Yes, yes." The Sheriff replied hastily. "Who is the other artist you speak of?" The Sheriff asked the artist.
"He is Colin, my Lord."
"Where can I find him?"
"He lives just outside of the village. Between the homes of the swordsmith and the dressmaker Madam from France." The artist said.
"Page!" The Sheriff called to the young lad again, just before the page got to the door to carry out the first task.
"Yes, my Lord?"
"Go to Master Colin's home and summon him to accompany us here. Tell him I request his presence and that the matter is of utmost importance." The Sheriff directed.
"Yes, my Lord." The page said.
As the page left the chamber to carry out his tasks, the Sheriff's sentry informed him that Lady Rhiannon had just returned to the castle.
The Sheriff turned to the Scribe. "Give this man…" He turned to the artist. "What is your name?" He asked.
"It is Michael, my Lord." The artist said.
"Right." The Sheriff commented. He looked to the Scribe. "Scribe, give Michael a copy of my dictation of the proclamation. You men continue, and I shall return in time."
The Scribe and the artist, Michael, nodded.
The Sheriff went through the door and found Rhiannon standing there, wearing a pale blue gown trimmed in lace, and her black velvet cape over top of it. He grabbed her by her arm and began to walk with her down the stone corridor.
"Where were you?" The Sheriff demanded gruffly.
"I visited my home." Rhiannon said.
"You should have told me." The Sheriff admonished.
"It is over. I went, carried out my intentions and have now returned to you. If I had told you, we would still be discussing it, or more to the point – arguing over it, and nothing would have been accomplished." Rhiannon stated.
The Sheriff eyed her curiously. "And what is that supposed to mean?" He asked in frustration.
"Exactly what I said." Rhiannon pointed out. "I needed to attend to matters of my household. There are two things I wish to discuss with you." She said.
"Come on!" The Sheriff commanded. He led her down the corridor, then another hall on the left, until eventually they were standing outside of his office. He produced a key from his pocket, unlocked the door, and led her inside.
"What are these matters you wish to see me about?" He asked.
"I borrowed your horse today." Rhiannon blurted.
The Sheriff shook his head, exhaled a heavy sigh and opened his mouth to challenge her, but once again wasn't quick enough.
"I've arranged for my mare to be brought to your stables." Rhiannon announced.
"You do not jest." The Sheriff said.
"No. I am used to having freedom. I am accustomed to having my horse available to me to transport me where I need to go."
"Fine." The Sheriff relented.
"I also learned you have exempted me from paying property tax?" Rhiannon said, curiously.
"Yes. I did do that." The Sheriff admitted.
"I should not be treated any differently than the villagers." Rhiannon said. "You tell me they complain to you all of the time about their taxes. Why won't you give them shelter?"
"You're doing it again." The Sheriff said.
"What?" Rhiannon asked.
"Challenging my decisions!" The Sheriff exclaimed as he came toward her. "Listen to me. There are two reasons why I did that."
"Yes?" Rhiannon urged him.
"The first reason is, that there are only two groups of people in relation to me who I would ever exempt from paying taxes – my wife, and my children." The Sheriff said emphatically.
"But…" Rhiannon began, she was cut off.
"But really, it doesn't matter a tinker's damn does it? Because the second reason is - you are going to be my wife! That means you will be living here with me in this castle. Therefore, you won't be holding onto that property long enough to feel guilt over the taxes you did not pay!" The Sheriff shouted. Why was she being so difficult?
"Well, actually, you are right about one thing." Rhiannon said. "True, I will be living with you here in this castle. But, I plan to hold onto my property." She announced.
"What?" The Sheriff asked, incredulous.
"I must, my Lord. It is all I have. It is…me."
"You will not need it, my lady. You can move everything you own here." The Sheriff suggested.
"No. I need a refuge." Rhiannon said.
"Why?" The Sheriff asked, puzzled. His left eyebrow raised.
"You'd never understand it." Rhiannon muttered.
"Try me." The Sheriff said.
"Because… there are no guarantees!" Rhiannon admitted.
"My lady?"
"Just trust in me…" Rhiannon said.
"Confound you, lady! What is it you're trying to tell me? That you don't think we'll last so you need a place to go to as a back up? Is that it?" The Sheriff demanded.
"No…no…you do not understand." Rhiannon said, shaking her head.
"There is a lot I don't understand." The Sheriff said. "You're something else, my lady. One moment you set my soul on fire. The next moment you're crawling under my skin." The Sheriff said gruffly.
Rhiannon stood with her mouth agape, still shaking her head.
"Well at least you don't do that crying thing that other maidens do." The Sheriff remarked facetiously. "Ever notice that? In a pitch that makes you want to stick arrows in your ears?" He noted in disgust.
"Maybe you should tell me what you're trying to say?" Rhiannon remarked. "I'm waiting to hear all about it." She glared at him, her green eyes ablaze in anger.
"No." He said, shaking his head and moving in a little closer. "You never answered me. Why do you feel a need to keep your home? It won't be needed. You will be my wife. A husband and wife live together." The Sheriff said a little more gently this time.
"I just…need it. I don't you expect you to understand. But it is my life. That place is my life."
The Sheriff shook his head and backed away preparing to leave.
"We're not done with this discussion." He warned. "I'll see you later in the private chambers."
"Is that a promise or a threat?" Rhiannon called to him. "Or is it in fact, a dare?"
"Take it anyway you want." The Sheriff snapped. "It could mean all of the above."
"This is what I get for flirting with danger…" Rhiannon muttered.
"What's that you said?" The Sheriff challenged, noting her flippant comment, though he didn't hear her words.
"I see I have caused your anger." Rhiannon said.
"Lady…you haven't seen the half of it." The Sheriff warned.
"Maybe you're not channeling it the right way." Rhiannon mused.
The Sheriff's left eyebrow shot north as he eyed her curiously.
"Well, if you indeed follow through with your promise, threat, or whatever it is you're calling it, I would've shown you…before now." Rhiannon taunted.
"Really?" The Sheriff asked sarcastically.
"Yes. And you can take that literally, or figuratively, or any way you want to, because any way you look at it, it works!" Rhiannon exclaimed as she walked hurriedly past him, and straight through the door.
The Sheriff shook his head and looked to the ceiling. Women…why did they have to be so damn complicated?
________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
The rain was beginning to fall just after midday. The same two guards who first met Luke when he arrived eighteen days ago, were stationed once again at the castle gates. When the portcullis raised behind them, they took note and turned around.
The same tall, lean man with the dark hair and mustache, and green blue eyes they met before bringing a message from Duke Farnsworth, stood there wearing a uniform issued for the Black Knights.
"You again!" The man Luke recognized as the serious one, remarked curtly. He was tall with long dark hair and brown eyes.
Luke smiled at them both. "Good day, gentlemen. I've been asked to join you here at your post."
"Are you related to the Sheriff or something?" The other guard asked. He was medium height, with golden blond hair and grey eyes.
"Well, no. Why do you ask?" Luke inquired.
The dark haired guard chuckled. "That was a good one, Adam!"
Luke began to shake his head.
The golden haired guard spoke. "It is just rather curious that you seemed to have moved up from messenger to knight rather…quickly."
"I am still in training. I'm not really a knight, yet." Luke replied modestly.
"Indeed." The taller guard said. "You'd do well to remember that." He seethed.
"That was probably a little harsh, Drake." Adam remarked.
"Oh, shut your cakehole!" Drake admonished.
They heard horses approaching. They turned their attention ahead. It was Sir Gisborne and his patrols returning to the castle.
"Sir Gisborne." Drake said in greeting.
Guy looked over their faces. He recognized Luke's.
"You." He sneered as he regarded him.
"Sir Gisborne." Luke said.
"You've moved along with your training rather well, I see." Guy said evenly.
"I am still learning, my Lord." Luke said.
"Yes. I'm sure you are." Guy commented sarcastically. He leaned down from his horse to inch closer to Luke's face. "I do not trust you. My cousin was misguided to employ you as a Black Knight!" He seethed.
Luke maintained his gaze but said nothing.
"I'll be watching you." Guy warned as he straightened up. Then he urged his horse along into a cantor as the portcullis raised to allow his entrance.
He found the Sheriff in the Council Quarters with the Scribe and a man unfamiliar to him who was seated at the table. He appeared to be writing something.
"Cousin?" Guy called as he entered into the room.
"You're dripping." The Sheriff remarked as he came toward him. He ushered Guy into the hallway.
"Some news, Guy?" The Sheriff asked.
"No, my Lord." Guy said. "We haven't found the maiden yet. No trace of her."
"Keep looking." The Sheriff instructed. "We have to be sure before we start off to find her."
"Indeed." Guy said. He nodded past him to the Scribe and the man at the table inside the chamber. "What's going on?" He asked.
"Oh, this is a stroke of brilliance, cousin!" The Sheriff said. "Hang on." He went inside and walked toward the table. He proceeded to pick up two documents and then he brought them back to show to Guy.
"What's this?" Guy asked as he inspected the drawings.
"It seems the Duke saw the couple who were given the infant by that leperous outlaw. He described them in detail to…"
"Master Richard?" Guy asked.
"Yes. How did you know?" The Sheriff asked, surprised.
"Just a hunch. He's always been good at drawing maps."
"He's been drawing maps for me for years." The Sheriff said.
"So, who is he?" Guy asked as he pointed through the doorway at the young man who was lean with dark curly hair, seated at the table with the Scribe.
"He is Michael. One of Nottingham's own artists, cousin. I have commissioned he and his assistant to copy the drawings. The drawings will be on my proclamations." The Sheriff said.
"Brilliant, cousin!" Guy said.
"Yes. I was very pleased that the Duke came up with this most excellent plan. I think it's genius, myself!"
"He's the best." Guy added.
"Indeed." The Sheriff said. "And trust me, he will be duly rewarded. He may be the reason I will get my child back to me." He added solemnly.
"The time is drawing nearer." Guy commented.
The Sheriff sighed. "Yes."
"Everything alright, cousin?" Guy asked him.
"Yes. Just…I don't know." The Sheriff said, suddenly lost for words. Damn the woman for what she did to him! Now he couldn't even speak in coherent sentences!
"The Duke did say he believes they are looking out for your child's best interest." Guy pointed out attempting to reassure.
"Yes. I know." The Sheriff said.
Guy tilted his head upward and squinted his soft brown eyes curiously at his cousin.
"It's Rhiannon. She's sending me to madness – I swear it." The Sheriff said, evenly.
"I thought…" Guy began. He was cut off.
"We were happy? Yes – that's just it, cousin. She does make me happy. She pleases me more than I ever could have conjured in a dream! She awakens me. And she angers me. She drives me to madness and to places I don't want to go to. She makes me believe. And she makes me doubtful…" The Sheriff stated.
"Cousin?" Guy asked, perplexed.
"She makes me feel love I never knew existed. And then she makes me feel hatred." The Sheriff added quietly.
"No! Not hatred! What are you saying, George? Did you quarrel?" Guy asked.
"She is something else!" The Sheriff said as he widened his eyes. "Can you believe she challenged me for erasing her taxes?"
Guy smiled. "Actually, I can."
"She took off on my horse today, without telling me, let along obtaining permission. She went to her home – which she tells me, she is keeping and she doesn't care what I think of it!" The Sheriff spat.
Guy just maintained his gaze but said nothing. He was rather astonished. His cousin had never once gone into detail about anything to do with his affairs with women. This was more information than he was accustomed to hearing about. He wasn't quite sure how to react.
"Oh, and she informed me that – 'By the way, my horse is coming to your stables tomorrow'. " The Sheriff attempted to mimic her tone. "This has been my day thus far, cousin. Being told – not asked – by my lady on two very important matters. Damn the woman!"
Suddenly, Guy couldn't control himself and a chortle escaped him.
"You think this is funny?" The Sheriff said, disgusted.
"Forgive me." Guy snorted as he shook his head. "It is rather amusing."
"Really?" The Sheriff asked, facetiously.
"You've never been put in your place by a woman." Guy remarked.
"Put in my place? Is that what you call it? I call it pure lunacy! Her ideas are irrelevant. She doesn't need her horse, and she sure as hell doesn't need that manor!" The Sheriff barked emphatically.
"Indeed." Guy said.
"There is nothing funny about it. She had better learn her place in this household!" The Sheriff huffed.
They were interrupted by the page.
"My Lord Sheriff, if I may?" The page interjected.
"Yes?" The Sheriff said.
The page motioned for the man beside him to come closer. The man was tall with black hair and blue eyes. His fingertips were stained with charcoal.
"This is Master Colin." The page introduced him.
"Michael's assistant." The Sheriff acknowledged.
"My Lord." Colin said.
"I have drawings that I need reproduced in mass quantities for a proclamation to be issued throughout the realm. The drawings are of a man and his wife wanted for kidnapping. Your employer is assisting me and suggested you." The Sheriff said. "Will you lend your talent to assist me in this important task?"
"I shall be honoured to assist you, my Lord." Master Colin said.
"Good. You may proceed inside." The Sheriff said as he gestured through the door of the Council Quarters. "As you see, Michael is already there." The Sheriff remarked. Then he looked to the page.
"You have his supplies?"
"Yes, my Lord." The page replied.
"Then see that he gets them!" The Sheriff commanded.
The page and Colin went inside. The Sheriff and Guy continued their discussion.
"What are you going to do?" Guy asked.
"I don't know. Right now I'm going riding. I feel stifled. I need air!" The Sheriff exclaimed.
"It is raining." Guy pointed out.
"I do not care!" The Sheriff spat. "When isn't it raining?" He remarked sarcastically as he headed down the corridor.
_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________
It was well past dusk. Rhiannon hadn't seen the Sheriff since hours earlier when they quarreled in the office. He told her she was crawling under his skin. The first unkind words he'd ever spoken to her. She went to the table in the den and touched the silver decanter letting her fingers linger there a moment before she lifted the stopper, then filled a goblet with the dark amber liquid. She picked it up and raised it to her lips. The brandy warmed her. After a few sips, she began to ease. She needed to calm herself. For, she was anxious about seeing him.
Another length of time passed. And two more libations of brandy. Rhiannon was feeling warm. She set the goblet down on the table beside the bed and removed her gown. She laid the blue gown over a chair at the foot of the bed. She then tried to splash cool water on her face. It didn't seem to help. So she scooped up a large quantity of water and splashed it this time on her neck and décolleté. That helped some. Satisfied, she strode over to the bed, pulled back the silk linens, and found her refuge. She was asleep in moments.
It was late. The moon was already starting to rise on the horizon. The Sheriff was sitting in his den, sipping some of his brandy. Luckily, there was still some there, because he noted the decanter was light in weight, and a goblet was missing. He was certain he'd find it somewhere in the private chamber once he opened the door.
He finished his libation and walked to the door. There was light from a lone candle illuminating the room in a dim orange glow. Rhiannon's skin glistened as the light bathed her body, lying there in sweet repose in his bed. He was stirred. As much as she had angered him, he needed her. He loved her. He would have her.
He moved closer toward the bed. His amber, hazel eyes burned like torches, on fire for her touch. He stood there a moment observing her. Her soft breathing. The fluttering of her silky eyelashes during dreams.
"Rhiannon…" He breathed.
She awoke. She opened her eyes and looked up. The Sheriff was leaning down toward her.
She sat up and almost bumped him on the head.
"My Lord?" She said as she pulled the linens up to cover her naked breasts.
"It's true." The Sheriff whispered huskily. "You do set my soul on fire – because you're under my skin." He breathed.
Rhiannon stared at him shaking her head in confusion.
"You do things to me no maid has ever done." The Sheriff continued. "You make me feel joy, ecstasy, jealousy, and anger. I have emotions I never knew I had."
"You did follow through with your…promise." Lady Rhiannon said quietly.
The Sheriff moved in suddenly and pulled her in close with his right hand. "Lady, I need you…" He breathed as he began to kiss her hungrily. "I am possessed by you. You make me feel alive…"
"My love…" Rhiannon whispered as the Sheriff kissed her. He devoured her taste, seeking her tongue with his. He ran his hand down her shoulder and moved toward her breast. He pushed her down on the bed and straddled her. His fur trimmed black robe swirled around him. His hair gleamed like the down of a raven against the soft orange glow of the candlelight. His eyes burned fire for her. His perfectly shaped lips upturned in a smirk.
"I know nothing of the true taste of you." He whispered as he bent down toward her. "But it's there. Just press against me. I finally have your attention. Listen closely, my lady…" He whispered as he leaned in close. His soft beard tickled her cheek, then she felt his warm breath in her ear.
"My lady, you are mine…" He whispered.
She cried out as he roughly pulled her in close to him. He raked his fingers though her hair as he devoured her lips with his. Her body began to respond. Then he gently tugged on her hair as he began to whisper: "You've had it in you to love me like this…you were born to love me, my lady." The Sheriff whispered as he continued to kiss her.
But she did not hear his words. She heard nothing beyond the fifth word of his phrase. For alas, she had a memory. The sinister voice saying to her: "You've had it in you long enough, whore. It is time to give me…"
She closed her eyes tightly, attempting to shut out the memory.
The Sheriff stopped kissing her. He was about to speak until he looked upon her face. Why was she grimacing?
"My lady." The Sheriff said.
"No!" She cried out, still with her eyes closed.
"Rhiannon!" The Sheriff shouted.
Rhiannon opened her eyes. They were vacant. She wasn't looking at him. Once again, she was looking through him. He hated himself for what he had to do but he needed to snap her out of it. So he lightly slapped her face…
Her response was immediate.
She shot up from the bed, slapped the Sheriff across his face, then got out of the bed. Quickly, she grabbed her velvet dressing gown lying carelessly on the floor, threw it on, and pulled it close around her. She backed toward the door.
"Rhiannon?" The Sheriff asked as he arose from the bed slowly. Her eyes were darting. She didn't acknowledge him. Exactly the same way she reacted the first time she awoke in their tent at camp in the north, right after he found her. She went mad! Like she had been recently…attacked! He began to slowly advance toward her.
She backed up against the door. She held out her hand in front of her to signal for him not to advance any further. She spoke, but it was still as if she did not know him. "No. You will not touch me again!" She voiced in a low growl. That same, foreign voice that he only ever heard once before. On the very night she did the same thing she was doing right now!
"It is I, my lady. It is George." The Sheriff said as calmly as he could. For, he was already starting to put the pieces of the puzzle together.
She ignored him and turned around. She threw the doors open and went into the den. As she quickly strode through there, she found the ends of the sash and tied the gown secure at her waist, the burgandy velvet fabric hugged her perfectly curved body.
"Rhiannon!" The Sheriff called. "Stop!"
"You will not touch me!" Rhiannon shrieked as she started to run. He caught up to her and held her before she made it to the door leading out of the den into the corridor outside.
"Don't touch me!" Lady Rhiannon shrieked as she tried to break free from his grasp.
The Sheriff turned her around to face him. Tears streamed down her cheeks but her eyes were still vacant and darting. That murderous. Loathsome. Bastard. He violated her!
"My lady…" The Sheriff said. More like choked. The words were strained. He was horrified. Of all of the times in her presence that he had felt it before, this was the most powerless he ever felt. And the most enraged. Because now, the need to kill that leperous insect, was stronger than ever. He would never rest….
Rhiannon kept staring but appeared to be calming. Finally she found his eyes with hers. She realized by the look on his face…he knew. She looked away. She couldn't bear to look at him. The secret she'd been keeping, even from herself. And he knew. She never said much to suggest it. But he knew. He would never forgive her. She looked to the floor.
"Don't look at me." She said quietly, evenly.
He put his hand on her chin, and gently tilted it upward forcing her to look at him. "I shall always look at you." He said gently. "My lady, what happened doesn't matter. I love you. It doesn't matter…except that he will pay." The Sheriff said.
"Really? It doesn't matter? I was touched by another man." Rhiannon pointed out. She could no longer control her tears.
"You were not touched. You were assaulted. There is a difference." The Sheriff added.
"I did not wish to remember. I wish I hadn't." Rhiannon whispered. She was trembling almost violently.
"My lady." The Sheriff whispered as he pulled her in close to embrace her. "We shall never speak of this again, not unless you need to." He reassured her.
"You're certain that you forgive me?" She asked.
"There is nothing to forgive, my angel." The Sheriff said. "You will still be my Lady Nottingham, and I can assure you, I am going to kill the man who did this to you. I promise you I will surely kill him very slowly... and painfully."
"For once, I am glad to hear that." Rhiannon said as she leaned into him. She was grateful. Even though it was too late, she felt the most protected she had felt in years.
"My lady?" The Sheriff interrupted her thoughts.
"Yes?" Rhiannon murmured.
"Your wishes have been granted." The Sheriff said.
She hugged him tightly.
The Sheriff had a headache. Probably from keeping his jaw too tightly clenched. Suddenly he remembered something that Lady Rhiannon said to him that night he found her when she awakened briefly before falling into that interminable slumber. When he was settling her into the cot, he was calmly attempting to reassure her. He said: "You're safe now, my lady. I assure you." What was it she said to him? It troubled him for weeks. Yes! She looked at him for the very first time and said: "It's too late, my Lord." And then she fell fast asleep! He drew a heavy sigh as he continued to embrace her. That is what she meant. He was too late to save her, she had already been violated! That sick. Loathsome. Leperous. Bastard! He was already going to die. But there weren't enough torturous devices available that the Sheriff wished to use on this creature!
