"James? Is that you?"
Hearing Annora's frightenened voice, Robin's first impulse was to run. His second was to stay and talk his way into accomplishing his mission, the retrieval of Maggie's jewels. He chose to stay.
"Don't be alarmed," his golden voice told the timid young woman through the darkness. "It's only me, Robin of Locksley. I mean you no harm."
For a moment, Annora wondered if she was still dreaming. The queen's admittance of an erotic liason with Robin in a sun drenched meadow had conjured up a similar dream in Annora's sleep, with herself in Isabella's stead. In fact, she'd hated to wake from it. But, now! He was here, in her bedchamber, in the flesh, drawn to her because of love!
"Robin," Annora breathed, pulling open the bedcurtains, her heart pounding. "I'm so glad you're not really a monk!"
Robin breathed a sigh of relief. It appeared Annora was going to be sensible, and not scream. "May I light a candle?" he politely asked. "No sense fumbling about in the dark."
Annora giggled. "I highly doubt you 'fumble,' dark or light," she told him, eagerly. "But yes, light one. I want to see you!"
The unmistakable warmth in her voice set Robin on edge. She wasn't still deluded about his feelings, was she? He was pretty sure he'd made himself clear that day in his stables. Striking a flint against his dagger, he found a candle and lit it.
One look at her eager, yearning face warned him she was mistaken. He set about at once setting her straight.
"Annora," he began, nervously, "I owe you an apology, another one, it seems. I'm truly sorry, but I used you today, to try and get my wife's earrings back. Nothing is what it seems. The jewel merchant wasn't a merchant, the jewels aren't real, and mostly, this isn't a clandestine, romantic visit. I snuck in here to steal back the jewels. They belong to-"
"You're nervous!" she interrupted, clearly not having listened to a word he'd said. "I'm scared, too. But it's alright! It will be wonderful, my darling!"
"I'm not your darling. I'm not even your friend. I used you, and I'm sorry. I won't do it again. Now, please, if you could tell me where you keep your jewels, I'll just take back the false ones, and be on my way. No harm done."
"No harm? What are you saying?"
Her voice was grief stricken, and he feared she'd burst into tears. Despite his better judgment warning him to stay back, he approached the bed.
"Annora." He seemed so gentle, so careful not to hurt her. "You must forget me. I've used you sorely, a thing I never should have done. I love my wife. Please forgive me, and don't cry."
With him so close, crying was the last thing on her mind. Her heart was pounding fiercely, her head swimming. "I know you feel bad," she told him, lost in the depths of his eyes. "You're so perfect! But Love can't be denied."
"I don't love you! I only want-"
Without warning, Annora rose to her knees and flung herself against his chest. Her arms clutched at him as she pressed her lips to his.
Robin staggered backward, inadvertantly pulling her with him, off the bed. Annora only clung more tightly. Bumping his back against something solid, Robin was forced to stop.
"So, Locksley, we meet again," the venomous voice of James Fitzhugh said. "It seems you have a problem keeping your hands off my wife. But this time, I have irrefutable proof of your crime."
Robin didn't need to pull Annora off him, for at the first sound of her husband's voice, she'd jumped back, afraid. Wheeling about to face his accuser, Robin threw him a helpless, lopsided grin, then darted past him, out the door, in another mad chase out of the castle.