Staring up at Marian from the bottom of their home's staircase, Robin renewed his resolve to keep his incredible wife as far from the lecherous eyes of King John as possible. He had to admit, her own solution had been clever. But would it be enough?

Before he had a chance to hobble back upstairs to rejoin her, Robin stopped, realizing he could hear the sound of muffled crying in their house. "Shh," he told Marian, listening. "I hear crying."

Marian tried to listen as well, but couldn't hear it. "Is it Ellie?" she asked, hurrying down the steps.

Robin shook his head. "Come on," he invited, somberly. "It's coming from the servants' quarters."

Orders of bedrest were forgotten, as the lord and lady of the manor searched for the source of unhappiness under their roof, each of them determined to do all in their power to make things right again.

"It's Bridget," Robin realized, concerned that Thornton's perky blond daughter should be sobbing so wretchedly.

Knocking softly on the young woman's door, he asked, "Bridget? Are you alright? It's me, Robin, and Lady Locksley. May we come in?"

The crying stopped as abruptly as it had begun, and within moments, the door was pulled open to admit them.

Poor Bridget looked every bit as wretched as she'd sounded, her eyes red and swollen, her nose dripping, her cheeks wet with tears. "Forgive me, Master, Mistress," she gulped. "I'll get back to work now."

"No need," Robin told her, kind, and gentle yet firm at the same time. "We don't mean to embarrass you, Bridget, but we heard you crying, and we're here to help, if you need us."

"Thank you, but it's nothing," Bridget insisted. "Just...just woman's foolishness. No more."

Marian, giving her husband's forearm a gentle squeeze, whispered to him, "Let me talk to her, Robin."

Robin saw the wisdom in his wife's idea. Gratefully, he nodded, then pressed his lips against her forehead and politely excused himself.

When the two young women were alone, Marian gently began by saying, "I don't mean to intrude, but I'm here to listen, and help you, Bridget. Will you tell me what's wrong?"

Eased by the kindness in her mistress's eyes, Bridget decided to open up and confess what was troubling her heart. "Oh, Mistress," she sobbed, "I'm a fool to carry on so! It's over, and you and Master Robin have made everything well again! It's just...I can't forget, and when I see you two so happy together, with your sweet child, knowing I can never have a husband or a bairn of my own...!"

"What do you mean, you can't have a husband?" Marian asked. "You have our permission to marry, Bridget, whenever you choose. It's not your father standing in your way, is it?"

"No, milady."

"Then, what? And what is it you can't forget? Please, tell me."

The blond young woman sank onto the side of her bed, wringing her hands. It wasn't like cheerful Bridget, whom Marian had known since childhood. She'd always been spunky and confident, ready to put Much in his place whenever he got above himself. But she seemed a different person now. Marian's heart went out to her, and she placed her hand on the girl's shoulder, no longer mistress and servant, but woman to woman.

Bridget uttered a deep, anguished sigh. "I can never marry, milady. Not now. Not after what he did to me. It's the same for all of us."

"Who?" Marian asked, feeling a cold knot form in the pit of her stomach when she guessed the answer. "Do you mean, Sir Guy?" What had Guy done? Marian had already guessed the answer, but was having trouble admitting it to herself.

Bridget couldn't look her mistress in the eye, she was so ashamed. Yet it helped to be able to talk. "He called it 'rubbing his feet,' but it wasn't. There was times, after Master Robin came back from the Holy Land, but was outlawed, and Sir Guy was so angry, he'd force one of us to his room, but he didn't want us. He wanted to hurt Robin, so he'd...he'd hurt us instead."

"It wasn't your fault," Marian assured her, shuddering at the cruelty of the man who'd almost been her husband. "I am so sorry. It's over, at least. And you can marry, Bridget. Any man would be lucky to marry you."

"No, milady. I'm tainted."

"No, you're not. You were not to blame. I was...I was almost in a similar situation myself, only yesterday, and I would have been, if Robin hadn't found me. But if he'd arrived any later, he'd think no less of me as his wife, I assure you. Any man worthy of you, Bridget Thornton, will think no less of you, for crimes committed against your will."

"Your ladyship is too kind."

"I'm only saying what's true. I'm sorry, Bridget, for what you suffered. If I'd known, I might have been able to stop it."

"He made us swear never to tell anyone, milady, most of all, Your Ladyship. Thank you for listening to me now. I'm scared sometimes, that he might come back."

"He won't. He has far too many enemies. You're perfectly safe."

Their intimate conversation was cut short by the sound of hoofbeats outside, thundering toward the manor. A trumpet blared, followed by a herald announcing, "Make way! Make way for His Most Gracious Majesty, King John!"

"The king!" Bridget cried, wiping the tears off her cheeks.

He wasn't supposed to be here, Marian was thinking. Hadn't his messenger given him the news, of her pretended illness?

Marian pulled her robe more tightly around her body, preparing herself to face the king, if she must. She could handle him, she told herself.

One thing was certain, she resolved. She would never allow herself to be a helpless pawn to satisfy his lust or his vengeance, the way Bridget and others had been to Guy.