No doubt about it, Bruno was thinking, counting the number of customers flocking around "Hortense" in the ground floor reception room of Nottingham's most disreputable bawdy house. With all the out-of-towners, fairs were good for business.

Bruno eyed his newest harlot with satisfaction. When she'd refused to drink any more of Her Majesty's tonic, he'd held her down and forced it down her throat, effectively erasing the rest of her memory, will, and reason. And now, thanks to Nature and to him, she was not only beautiful and shapely, but blond, and stupid to boot! No wonder the men were lining up, promising their last farthings, just for a chance to take her upstairs and tup her.

What did it matter if she swayed on her feet, as though she were drunk? He doubted she'd be needing to stand, once she got to work. And what did it matter if she blinked vapidly, not able to tell up from down? The men weren't interested in her conversation. No. One look into those empty, blinking blue eyes of hers, not to mention all her other assets, and every gent in the place panted to have a go at her. The blond wig suited her, Bruno decided...made her look like an angel, with a body that could tempt old Lucifer himself.

Yes, indeed, the money would be coming in tonight! And the tales of the luscious Hortense would be going out, attracting even more fair goers the rest of the week! Now, all Bruno needed to do was to keep forcing the Queen's brew down Lady Locklsey's lily white throat, to make her lose her willfulness and comply with his orders. After all, with a face and a body like hers, it'd be a crime to light a fire in a man, and then not quench it, for a price.

...

"Where is he?" Much worried, panting for air in a narrow corridor of Nottingham Castle. "Where did he go?"

"I do not know!" Djaq answered, nearly as frustrated as Lord Bonchurch. "Robin is fast. He was just ahead of us, and then, he seemed to disappear."

"Not bein' funny, but does anybody else think maybe he really can walk through walls?"

"I hate this!" Much cried. "I hate it! First, Marian disappears, and now Robin...?"

"Shut up and keep looking!" Will Scarlet advised.

"But which way? Where did Robin go? I hate this!"

Little John only growled, then, knowing the gang depended on him to lead in Robin's absence, pointed down a castle corridor.

"You heard Big Bear!" Much declared, glad that someone had made a decision. "Well, I mean, you saw him! We go this way!"

...

Isabella lay back, soaking luxuriously in a golden bathtub, its warm water fragrant with rose petals. Two jewel encrusted pins held up her hair, so it wouldn't get wet, and her ladies stood nervously by, ready to supply her every desire.

Well, perhaps not every desire. The handsome man she despised, yet lusted after, could not be summoned by a group of ladies. No, somehow, he would have to want her enough, to come to her himself.

There was no sound of a door opening, yet somehow, He appeared from out of nowhere, in their midst, his eyes hard with hatred and wild with anguish. Together, Isabella and her ladies gasped, their hearts pounding with surprise, fear, and, in Isabella's case, desire.

So, he had ferreted out the truth, or at least he suspected, that she was behind his goody goody wife's disappearance. No matter. He wouldn't hurt her, not Robin. Her very gender protected her, that, and his charming, sweet conscience. Let him threaten all he liked. He was so sexy when dangerous.

"Leave us," Isabella commanded her ladies.

After her women had filed out, Isabella stretched, cat like, in her bath, lifting her slender arms over her head in a provocatively inviting gesture.

Robin had no interest in the bait. "What have you done with Marian?" he demanded, furiously.

"You know, Robin, for all your excellent breeding, I do believe your years, living like an animal in the forest with peasants and ruffians your closest companions, has made you forget your gentle manners. But don't worry. I actually prefer it when you're not gentle with me."

"Where's my wife, you poisonous slut?"

Isabella wriggled her body suggestively under the water. "I don't, however, approve of your approach to me," she scolded. "I'd prefer to hear your honeyed words, before we resume our brief, but oh so passionate, affair. You know, it dawns on me, that, surprising as it seems after what we engaged in together, we've never seen each other naked. You're well versed in myths and legends. Who was it who rose from the waves? The Goddess of Love, wasn't it? How appropriate."

So saying, Isabella stood in her bath, revealing the exquisite white loveliness of her body, then pulled out her hairpins to shake down her hair, being sure to hold onto one, to use as a weapon.

"There!" she said, before stepping from her bath to slide her arms into the sleeves of a burgundy colored robe. "Must make quite a change to view a woman's body not marked by hideous scars."

"Your hideous scars are on your soul," Robin sneered, conquering his fears her words ignited.

First, a lock of Marian's hair, tied in a ribbon and sold at the fair. Next, the viper's admission to having seen Marian's body. Mad with fear and worry, Robin drew forth his dagger, and walked menacingly toward Isabella.

Isabella stood by her bed, knowing she looked bewitchingly beautiful with her robe open to partially reveal her perfectly proportioned body. She may not have Marian's voluptuous curves, but hers were perfect, and Robin couldn't help but be tempted. Beyond reason, she hoped.

After one quick appraisal up and down her body he just couldn't help, Robin kept his eyes locked on her face. "You will tell me where my wife is," he threatened, standing over her, "unless you want me to decorate you, the way your brother decorated Marian."

"My brother!" Isabella sneered back at him, enjoying the heat coursing through her, pooling at her loins. "Do you think Guy will return to England, now that your beloved Richard's no longer king? Why should he stay away, with his sister Queen? Who knows? Perhaps he'll return. Perhaps..." She paused for effect. "Perhaps he already has."

It was too much. Chivalry be damned. Robin lunged at her, spinning her around and holding her from behind, his knife's blade to her throat.

"Where's my wife?" he hissed.

Isabella, equally stimulated and frightened, plunged her hairpin into his thigh, making Robin release his hold on her. "Guards!" she shrieked, closing her robe around her and watching in satisfaction as Robin first glared at her, then bolted from her room, leaving a trail of blood from his wound.