Approximately twenty minutes later the Sheriff entered into the Council Quarters.

"My lord Sheriff. You wished to see me? Is Lady Rhiannon – " Thomas was interrupted.

"No. It is not my lady. It is my blacksmith. I fear he may be losing his sight. He has yet to be examined. I need you to see for yourself, perhaps you may have a solution?" The Sheriff said.

"Very well. Where is he?" Thomas asked.

"In my armoury. Come." The Sheriff said as he led the way.

They got through the door and the Sheriff made contact with Guy. The Scribe was standing behind him.

"How did you know to come?" The Sheriff asked his cousin.

"The page told me perhaps I should, because you were in too bad a mood to think straight." Guy said. He was going to say 'irate' instead of the more forgiving description of 'bad mood', but thought better of it.

"Oh, indeed I was." The Sheriff muttered. "But, it doesn't matter…" He said, suddenly aware that Thomas was right beside him. He'd never get anywhere with the matter if Thomas knew how angry the Sheriff was at being interrupted. But now he was angered further. "…too bad a mood to think straight." Huh! The cursed little runt! I'll teach him some manners. He thought.

Moments later, the Sheriff, his Lieutenant, his Scribe, and his wise physician, Thomas Crumwell, entered into the armoury. The Sheriff and his Scribe led the way.

Soon they were all standing in front of Stephanus, the blacksmith. Stephanus immediately sensed he had company. The sound of their boots clicking confidently on the stone floor sounded like that of an army approaching.

Stephanus stood and made obeisance to his master.

"My lord." Stephanus said as he looked up in the direction of the Sheriff. "Has your physician come to see me now?" He asked.

The Sheriff looked upon him with a hint of concern. It was then, in that moment, he felt pity for the man. He shook his head. There was still work to be done. Alas, no time for foolish sentiments. Focus! He willed himself.

"Yes. Indeed he is here." The Sheriff said. He motioned for Thomas to come closer.

Thomas approached the blacksmith slowly. "I am Thomas Crumwell, the Sheriff's own personal physician. I am well versed in disorders of the eye. It used to be my specialty before I was hired by your master to serve him. Tell me, what is your name?" Thomas asked.

"It is Stephanus, sir." The blacksmith replied.

"Do you consent to having me examine you?"

"Indeed. I do consent." Stephanus said.

Thomas turned to the Sheriff. "I need light." He said.

The Sheriff nodded to Guy. Guy quickly grabbed a torch from the wall behind Stephanus and held it up for the physician.

"Near, but not too close to his face." Thomas directed.

Thomas took a few moments to study Stephanus' eyes. He pried them open to get a better look. Guy held the torch nearby to light the field of vision.

"Hmm. Indeed. A classic case." Thomas said, nodding affirmatively.

"What?" The Sheriff and Stephanus both asked in unison.

"He has a condition of the lens known as cataract. If left untreated, without surgical intervention…." Thomas looked to the blacksmith. "I am afraid you will be blind, Stephanus." Thomas reported gravely.

"What surgical treatment?" Stephanus asked.

"There is a procedure I am skilled at. I have performed five hundred of them in my years of practicing medicine. The procedure has a fifty percent success rate. Alas, it is not because I am not skilled in it, it is because not enough is known yet of the eye, and other possible factors that cause blindness, that I do not have a one hundred percent success rate. Alas, no physician anywhere from here to Greece has a perfect rate of success. I dare say, worldwide." Thomas explained.

"Okay?" Stephanus said, quite bewildered. "So…are you going to tell me what you're going to do to me?" He asked the physician.

"You will not like it." Thomas said.

"I need to know everything before I consent to you touching my eyes!" Stephanus said adamantly.

Thomas sighed. "Alright. But do not say I didn't warn you. There is a procedure where by using something sharp, such as a large bore needle or a knife; if I insert it through the cornea and use it to guide the lens out of its capsule, then down to the bottom of the eye, than there is a chance it will work and your vision shall be restored." Thomas explained.

Stephanus gasped, his eyes widened. The colour drained from his face.

Guy closed his eyes and sighed. Then he regurgitated in his mouth slightly.

The Scribe gasped loudly and shuddered.

The Sheriff felt sick to his stomach.

Overall, the explanation Thomas provided of the procedure and it's imperfect success rate, did nothing to inspire confidence in the Sheriff. The Sheriff was a lot of things, but he knew it to be true he was indeed a perfectionist. He expected the same level of quality from his staff. But if there were no other choice available, he was going to need to sell it to his blacksmith.

"Is there nothing else?" The Sheriff asked Thomas.

"I can issue a salve to be applied to his eyes twice daily. I could suggest compresses or drops. None of those less invasive recommendations have proven anything except a tedious experience for the patients. They are, alas, ineffective. Some physicians do subscribe to these methods, however, but that is usually because they lack the education and skill to carry out the procedure." Thomas said confidently.

The Sheriff shook his head. He prayed to Zeus he would never acquire this cataract condition.

"Do you use a knife…or a needle?" Stephanus asked the physician pointedly.

"I use the large bore needle." Thomas said.

"Now, Master Crumwell, you should know: I am not good with needles. No. I cannot agree to this!" Stephanus exclaimed.

The Sheriff shook his head. His jaw began to clench. Before he could speak out, Thomas answered the blacksmith.

"I prefer the needle. It offers more precision than a knife. I can control it better and it causes less damage than a knife. This is why I have a good success rate with it. Believe it or not, mine is the highest documented rate of success with this. Just goes to show how much advancement there is yet to come as more is learned about these conditions. Anyway, it will be to your benefit if you allow me to use this manner of performing the procedure. There is a greater risk of failure if you choose me to use a knife." Thomas informed him.

Gisborne began to feel very unwell just then. He hoped there would be less graphic explanations to come. He didn't want to deal with the humiliation of having to be excused from this cursed meeting.

"If you don't do this, you'll be no good to me. I shall have to let you go. And what good will you be if you're blind and poor?" The Sheriff pointed out to Stephanus. "Agree to this, and you may be able to retain your position, and I shall reinstate your former wage of…" The Sheriff said, stopping to ponder it. What was it again?

"Five crowns, my lord." The Scribe pointed out.

Stephanus sighed. He looked to where he believed the physician to be standing. "Alright, but I just have one question."

"What is that?" Thomas asked.

"Is there anything you can give me that will ease the pain while you perform this? Preferably something to numb it?"

"Indeed. What – you think me a barbarian? I shall administer to you a measure of potion of dwale." Thomas said.

"What is that?" Stephanus asked.

"Dwale is a potion of anaesthetic. A drug that makes you fall asleep and numbs you to the sensation of pain. It is comprised of lettuce juice, the gall of a castrated boar, henbane, briony, opium, hemlock juice, and vinegar. The ingredients are mixed in proper ratios ahead of time. I prefer lower ratios, and then I mix it in watered down wine. It is recommended to use wine, but I prefer a weaker strength in my mixtures of dwale." Thomas said. He looked to the Sheriff.

"I shall need an assistant. I would like to request Lady Margaret to help me."

"Lady Margaret? What use will she be in this matter?" The Sheriff asked.

"In my teachings, I have taught her more about the anatomy of the eye, than I have of the liver." Thomas said with a knowing look on his face.

The Sheriff's left eyebrow shot north.

"Let's do this." Stephanus said. "When will you do it?"

The Sheriff looked to Thomas. The tall silver haired man nodded.

"It shall be done as soon as Lady Margaret is available to assist my physician. Hopefully it shall be done by dusk." The Sheriff announced.

Stephanus sighed in resignation.

When they were outside the door of the armoury, Guy asked to speak to the Sheriff.

"Cousin, is it necessary you shall require my presence when this event occurs?" Guy asked. The Sheriff noted he looked ashen.

"Yes. In case the blacksmith behaves unpredictably. He may reach for his sword, or one nearby. And you might be needed to assist as you did with the examination." The Sheriff said.

"I don't know if I can." Guy said, shaking his head.

"Don't give me that!" The Sheriff snapped. "You were the one who cut the eyes from that pitiful servant of Lord Locksley's! It was not I that did it, contrary to popular belief – it was you! It was a good thing I was there witnessing it along with the crone, or else I might have excused you." A beat. "Don't embarrass me, Guy." The Sheriff warned.

His cousin sighed.

__________________________________________________________________________________________________________

It was near moonrise that same night. The Sheriff was in the den sipping from a goblet of the tincture of rapture which had just been brought this day. A short time ago he was dismissed by Lady Rhiannon from the bath chamber. She insisted she felt much stronger today. He reluctantly agreed. He would finish the brandy and return to check on her. He took a sip and licked his lips. He was impatient to touch her.

Then he sighed. He thought of the last order of business of the day. He wished it had happened before he dined, perhaps he wouldn't have felt so ill?…

The unpleasant task was carried out in the blacksmith's quarters. The procedure was now underway. A short time ago, Thomas had just administered an ounce of the dwale mixed with the thinned wine to the blacksmith. Stephanus had fallen asleep. The Sheriff was glad. For, if his blacksmith had remained awake for this, he surely would've reached for a sword, and indeed become mad. The Sheriff drew in a heavy sigh and closed his eyes.

When he opened them again his cousin was holding a torch to shine over the face of the patient. His assistance was needed, after all. For Lady Margaret was using clean rags to hold the left upper and lower eyelids open at the moment, while Thomas was carefully cutting…no! Stabbing away at the eyeball in an attempt to loosen something from it. The Sheriff thought about it. What did he call it again? Was it a lens?

"Hold that torch steady, Sir Gisborne!" Thomas directed urgently.

Guy shook his head. He looked to the Sheriff. His face was a pale shade of…green? The Sheriff sighed. Guy fidgeted and the hand holding the torch moved again.

"We need someone who can handle it to hold the light for us!" Lady Margaret commanded fearlessly.

The Sheriff turned to the Scribe, for he didn't wish to do it. It was bad enough to have to assist with Lady Rhiannon's recent intervention, even though he knew he would not be anywhere else but by her side.

"Scribe, take his place." The Sheriff ordered.

The Scribe nodded.

The Sheriff turned to Guy. "You will exchange duties with the Scribe." The Sheriff announced.

The procedure continued another hour more. Finally it was over. Lady Margaret was observing the blacksmith to see that he would waken soon. She received strict instructions from Thomas not to leave the patient's side until the man was completely lucid.

"When will we know?" The Sheriff asked Thomas.

"It will be clear whether the procedure was a success or not in about a week's time…give or take a day or two." Thomas said.

"Surely you jest? A week?" The Sheriff asked, incredulous.

"Yes. Now he must begin recovery. It takes that long for healing. We won't know what his true visual capability is until then. Because even if it's successful, in the interim he will still be the way he was before. In fact, his vision will be worsened because of the procedure, until he heals." Thomas explained.

The Sheriff sighed. Another week…if he was lucky! He cursed himself for not thinking to stall the procedure. He might have found a replacement? But what choice did he have? Even though the blacksmith was functioning in his duties better before than he surely would now, until next week when he was healed (supposedly); Thomas said if he didn't perform it, Stephanus would be blind. Curses! Every time he thought he was getting anywhere, he was constantly thwarted! And this situation today…look at that? There he was, caught between a rock and a hard place. Either decision had a high chance of a poor outcome. Was this his sign? The sign to indicate not to ever expect anything to go right?

He lifted the goblet to his lips and downed the rest of the contents of the brandy. He was angry, and he was also still on a low simmer from his brief interlude with Rhiannon earlier in the afternoon. He licked his lips. Then he went through the doors and into his private chamber. Rhiannon was lying on the bed, she was wearing her burgundy velvet dressing gown. She always looked beautiful wearing it. The colour complimented her skin tone and her eyes perfectly. This time it was not wrapped about her, it was opened, inviting his touch of her creamy skin. It appeared as if she had been waiting for him. But now, she was fast asleep. Curses! He walked closer and sat down beside her. He leaned down to kiss her forehead.

"My lady…" He sighed.

He possessed a good deal of self control about most things, at least he believed he did. But he wondered how he would be able to contain it much longer, this waiting to be intimate with her. He needed her. He sighed. He would have wait a little longer.

_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________

It was the following morning when it came - the sign he was seeking.

Rhiannon awakened at dawn. The Sheriff was jolted from his slumber by her touch. He figured he had only fallen asleep somewhere near the witching hour – the sky was black as pitch then, and he could tell by the way his head felt he could not have had more than two or three hours of sleep. But she began to seduce him, and soon he was wide awake.

Once again, moments before he was about to take her in a moment of wild, reckless abandon, there was a knock on the door of the den.

Rhiannon sighed. "You better answer it, my prince. It must be important because you asked your guard not to disturb us." She pointed out.

He shook his head. "Indeed. You're right." The Sheriff said resignedly. He got up and quickly dressed, muttering curses under his breath. He threw on his breeches, boots, and his voluminous black silk robe, then strode through the chambers to the door.

When he opened it, the Scribe stood there. Beside him was a young gangly lad with curly red hair and a freckled face. He held a scroll in his palm.

"This young lad has a message for you, sire." The Scribe said, nodding to the messenger.

"I was asked to place this only in the hands of the Sheriff of Nottingham. Are you he, sir?" The lad asked.

"I am indeed." The Sheriff said.

"I was sent by Duke Farnsworth. The matter is of vital importance, my lord." The messenger said.

The Sheriff began to tremble slightly, but he was successful at concealing it.

"Give it to me." The Sheriff commanded.

The messenger gave the scroll sealed in wax to the Sheriff.

The Sheriff took it and carefully removed the seal from it. He slowly unfurled the document and began to read:

"Monday, 8th September, 1197 Anno Domini

My Lord Sheriff;

Your proclamation was effective. I am in a small village in the county of York with your Officers Richard and Nigel. The lady wanted in the kidnapping, and your child, are with us in custody now. She is taking us to her husband, we will secure him, I assure you - we will not fail you. We will be returning to Nottingham Castle directly afterward.

I'm not certain how long the journey will take, but you should expect to see us by the twenty first. This letter may precede our arrival by a day or two but not longer.

The child appears healthy, my lord. All is well.

Your faithful servant,

Duke C. Farnsworth.

PS. I did not pay the messenger because I wanted to make certain he'd indeed get this message to you."

The Sheriff hung his head and closed his eyes. He drew in a heavy sigh. His shoulders relaxed and his face softened in that moment. For it felt like someone had just removed a weight equal to that of a ton of gold from his burden.

"My lord?" The Scribe said.

"It is good news…for a change." The Sheriff said evasively. "This messenger needs to be paid. Take care of it." The Sheriff ordered the Scribe.

"Yes, my lord." The Scribe said. He motioned for the messenger to follow him and the Sheriff closed the door.

He leaned back against it and looked skyward. His child. His child was indeed coming home…for real. He would need to speak to his sentry posted at the main gates. Someone he could trust. He thought for a moment. Luke. He wanted to tell Rhiannon about the child in his own way. He would need to take her to Guy's manor to see the child. It was going to take a lot of convincing too - he had a funny feeling. But the child would behold its father first. He was suddenly apprehensive. He never imagined he would have a child. He was unlike most men who were fathers. He was no nobleman. He pretended to be, but he knew he was not.

He tucked the scroll into the pocket of his robe. He would burn it later. Rhiannon had to hear this news from his lips alone. He went back into the private chamber.

"Is everything in order?" Rhiannon asked.

"Yes, my angel. Everything is fine." The Sheriff said.

"Are you going to tell me?"

"The seven Knights I had sent on a mission in the North have completed their task. They are returning to me, that is all." The Sheriff lied. He had to, for now. She wasn't ready. And he needed the child to be present when he told her. For surely when she looked upon the face of the child they created together, there would be no mistaking it, she would know what he would tell her was truth.

She smiled. Then a moment later, she closed her eyes and grimaced slightly. She tried to hide it, but the Sheriff saw it notwithstanding.

He sighed. "There is pain isn't there?" The Sheriff guessed.

"Some…" Rhiannon whispered.

"Don't say a word. I'm giving you the opium." He said. She did not protest.

She took it a few moments later. She held her right side with her left hand and slowly reclined back against the silky pillows.

"Forgive me, my prince." Rhiannon said.

He smoothed her hair and touched her cheek. He leaned down to kiss her.

"Don't think on it, my lady. We shall have our time." He promised her.

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Hours later his Lieutenant summoned the Sheriff to the Council Quarters.

When the Sheriff saw him, he was surprised.

"You look to be heading on a journey. Are you leaving for Portsmouth today?" The Sheriff asked him.

"Yes. I'm not sure how long this will take. I'd rather get it over with." Guy said. "You might need the key to my manor while I am gone. I wanted to give it to you before I departed on my way." Guy said. He handed it to the Sheriff.

"Indeed. You're very perceptive, cousin." The Sheriff said. "I heard from Duke Farnsworth this morning." A beat. "He is bringing my child to me now."

"Finally!" Guy exclaimed.

"Yes. I shall finally behold my child's face. I almost can't believe it." The Sheriff said. "I will need to be available to meet with my new prisoners when the Duke arrives with them to the castle. So, I would like to assign Luke and one other of the Knights to take my child to your manor. Do you agree?" The Sheriff asked.

"Yes, if you must." Guy said. "I already got the address in Portsmouth from the Scribe. Do you have those items you wish me to plant there?" Guy asked him.

"Yes. Come with me to my office." The Sheriff said.

The Sheriff and Guy walked along the halls and finally made it into the office ten minutes later. The Sheriff walked to the north wall, which was to the left of the window at the back of the room. He found the block of stone that activated the release. The wall separated and slid to each side to reveal the inner chamber of his vault. He went inside and moments later returned with the items. He put the pentagram medallion in there after he met with the Bishop. He gave the medallion, the book of shadows, and the double edged dagger to his cousin.

Guy took them and went on his way. Two men from his patrols accompanied him on his mission.

________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Later, the Sheriff summoned Master Luke to his Council Quarters. Luke arrived promptly. He stood before his master.

"You wished to speak with me, my lord?" Luke asked.

"Yes. I have an important mission I need you to carry out for me." The Sheriff said.

Luke tried to conceal his excitement at being chosen for his first mission.

"You've seen the proclamation no doubt?" The Sheriff asked.

"Yes." Luke said.

"Duke Farnsworth, the man you took the scroll from to deliver to me in August – is returning with my men, and the couple who will be charged with kidnapping." The Sheriff began.

"Yes?" Luke asked, puzzled.

"The child who was kidnapped is also in custody. It will be brought to this castle. It is a long story, Luke, and I will not explain it to you now. Perhaps in time. The child belongs to me, and my Lady Rhiannon. But my lady is unaware of the child's existence." The Sheriff said.

Luke was clearly astonished.

"Alas, it is a very delicate matter. I need people I can trust. None of what I just told you must be divulged. But I want you to choose between two of my Knights to accompany you on this mission. For this child's safety is of utmost importance." The Sheriff warned.

"What is my task?" Luke asked.

"You are to take the child to Sir Gisborne's manor in Nettlestone. The Scribe has a map for you to direct you to the manor. Here is the key." The Sheriff said as he handed the key over to Luke. Luke took it. The Sheriff continued. "There will be people waiting there to receive the child. Most likely Lady Margaret, a few of my servants, and if Lady Margaret cannot be there at that time, a wet nurse will be waiting." The Sheriff said.

"It shall be done. When are we to expect the infant to arrive?" Luke asked.

"In the next day or two. You will be assigned to the main gates again with Drake and Adam. You are to choose one of them to accompany you." The Sheriff directed.

Luke concealed the grin he felt forming. The Sheriff did know the names of his comrades!

"You had better meet with my Scribe soon, Luke. I want you to be prepared when the Duke arrives at the gates. The child is not to come through the portcullis. You are to take the child directly to Sir Gisborne's manor. And you need to give this to the Duke." The Sheriff said. He reached under his belt and passed a sealed scroll to Luke. "It will explain everything to him. Otherwise he would never surrender the child to anyone but me." The Sheriff said. "Keep it on your person. Give it to no one but Duke Farnsworth." The Sheriff instructed. "You do remember him, I trust?"

"Yes." Luke nodded.

"Good. Now, go. You should find my Scribe before you return to your post." The Sheriff advised.

Luke took his leave and obeyed his master.

___________________________________________________________________________________________________________

By dusk everything was in place. The Sheriff had spoken to Lady Margaret, and by now she had already acquired a willing maiden to serve as wet nurse in the matter. Two servants were assigned by the Sheriff to go to the manor to assist Lady Margaret. He would speak to Duke Farnsworth about appointing two of his best men to guard the manor. Normally this would be assigned to his Lieutenant to choose, but he was now engaged in another mission.

It was nightfall. The Sheriff had given Lady Rhiannon a measure of opium. She requested it, saying she was determined this time to be with him intimately. She didn't want the pain to come back. Once again, she chose to soak in the bath.

The Sheriff was waiting nearby, reclined upon the bed. One arm was behind his head, the other was supported on a pillow as he held a goblet of the tincture of rapture in it. He was wearing his long black silk robe, and his breeches. His raven hair glistened by the light of the lone candle on the table beside him. The mood was set. The timing was right. He was finally relieved of a major burden. He smiled.

He waited a time. He realized she had been there quite awhile. He decided to check on her. He quietly opened the door and stood in the threshold gazing down hungrily upon her. Rhiannon appeared to be asleep. Her head was tilted back, leaned over the edge of the tub, but she was moaning and running her hands slowly over her breasts.

"George…" She murmured faintly.

The Sheriff sighed. He could feel it. He felt himself grow hard as a rock in that moment. He slowly drew in a breath, then he opened his eyes.

"Rhiannon." He said.

She had been asleep. For she was startled. "Oh! There you are, my sweet prince. Come. Your lady awaits." She beckoned. She cast him that slow sideways glance, dropping her eyelids and holding them there a moment before she slowly looked up at him.

He sighed. Candles burned in the chamber. The light reflected on the water and cast a bright glow upon her skin. She appeared to be lit up from within. She motioned for him to come forward.

He walked toward her and sat on the chair beside the tub. He observed she was not wearing her bath shirt. He couldn't tell before because of all of the creamy bubbles. But now he could see. He drew in a breath and closed his eyes. He could almost tell where every vein in his body was located, because a heat rush was slowly coursing through him, like a peculiar form of energy. It finally settled, demanding he take her soon.

She pulled him by the lapel of his robe, down toward her and kissed him slowly and longingly.

"Oh, my angel." The Sheriff said.

She stood up and grabbed the velvet dressing gown. She began to wrap it around her as she stepped out of the tub.

He carried her back to the bed. She nestled against the navy silk linens and the soft down pillows covered in the same pleasing fabric, and looked up, smiling at him. He leaned down to kiss her.

"Are you sure you're well enough?" The Sheriff asked.

"Yes."

"You did have discomfort this morning." The Sheriff reminded her.

"Do you wish to hear me whine?" Rhiannon suddenly asked.

"What! Of course not." He said.

"Then…just try to reject me and see what happens." Rhiannon winked. "For I am ready for you. You will know this soon enough." A beat. "Did you speak to your sentry?"

"Indeed, I did, my lady." The Sheriff said with a knowing smirk.

"Then what the hell are you waiting for?" Rhiannon teased.

There was no hesitation in what happened next. He was upon her in seconds. They tore off each others clothing in a frenzied moment of pent up passion.

"Rhiannon." The Sheriff whispered gruffly as he ran his hands over her body. He bent down to kiss her breast. She reached down and took him in her hand.

"Now." She demanded.

"No. Patience, my lady." The Sheriff said.

And then he slowed his pace. He touched her lightly and began to kiss every inch of her, yet his lips barely grazed her skin. She felt the tingle induced by the sensation of his beard trailing over her body.

He made his way up over every curve of her body. Then up toward her face. He burned his eyes into hers. He stayed like that a moment. It was driving her mad with desire.

"Promise me I won't hurt you or I will not proceed." The Sheriff demanded, breathless. His left eyebrow was raised demanding an answer. She knew without a doubt she was ready for him to take her then.

"My sweet prince, I promise you: you shall not hurt me." Rhiannon smiled without blinking as she stared into his eyes.

He slowly entered her. She was ready. He moaned. Their bodies moved in a perfectly choreographed dance of desire. Their fantasies unfurled and carried them to a utopia they could never have imagined. Each felt their bodies burning on fire for the other. Finally, in the dead of night, they collapsed breathless, in a state of pure unadulterated bliss.

And she was feeling bliss she never thought possible. Even in dreams she wouldn't have believed it could be so perfect.

But, alas, it couldn't be perfect. No real love ever was. For in less than twenty four hours, Lady Rhiannon's life would take a turn in the direction of one hundred and eighty degrees from where it was headed now. She would need to make a choice. The most important and finite decision she could ever make. And she would never be able to turn back from it.

She would need to make a choice between the two most important men in her life. One had never failed her, though he would unknowingly do so in the hours ahead. The result would cost her the life of someone she held dear. The other had failed her in the most heinous manner possible, to the point that he almost deserved his fate. But she could only choose one. The Sheriff of Nottingham? Or her brother? One was the man of her dreams, the only man she knew in her heart would ever be able to keep her happy. The only man who would suffice, whom she would always compare anyone who would follow after him, god forbid, because he would be the standard to measure by. But the other was her own flesh and blood.

Soon, three people were about to get the surprise of their lives. Though the Sheriff's surprise would come later. There would be secrets revealed, and they would unravel all around the Sheriff. There would be suspicions, and accusations, and lies would be told. Only time could reveal if the mad love affair between the Sheriff of Nottingham and his Lady Rhiannon could survive the ultimate test that lay ahead of them.