If Marian didn't know better, she would assume Lady Sybille de Lusignan was a very attentive wife, for she appeared to be hanging not only onto her husband's arm, but onto his every word tonight at the Sherff of Nottingham's party. But Marian did know better. Unfortunately for her, she had secretly overheard Lady Sybille consorting with her lover, Guy of Gisbourne, in a private alcove outside the Great Hall in Nottingham's Castle. The memory of their encounter made Marian cringe, for she was still a maiden, and unversed in what could transpire between a man such as Gisbourne and his mistress.

Robin's presence had somehow made things feel less sordid...more safe and removed...but now that she had parted from him with angry words, the memory of Gisbourne's grunts and groans made Maran squeamish and uncomfortable, especially while standing face to face with the now subdued and coolly detached but dangerous knight.

Well, at least Robin was staying away from the party, Marian thought. Their argument must have made him rethink his foolish hasty plans. Marian prayed he was heading back to the shelter of Sherwood Forest, far from the sheriff's dungeons. She never wanted to see him hurt, no matter how angry she felt towards him.

But Gisbourne was speaking, and she needed to force herself to listen.

"Lady Marian," he said, his voice deep and low and breathy, "you are upset."

"No, Sir Guy." She hastened to correct his impression, true though it was. "It is just a bit warm in here. That is all."

"Then you need to drink." Looking about him, he spied a servant with a tray of goblets, and summoned him with a commanding gesture that somehow managed to be threatening as well.

Marian breathed a sigh of relief that Robin was no longer masquerading at such a task, yet a small flicker of sorrow rose up at the thought he was truly gone from the party. Enough! she told herself. She needed to stop wasting her remorse on such a fool.

Try as she might, however, she couldn't stop thinking of him. She knew he wasn't a fool, but a hero. He and his "men" were doing so much more for the people of the shire than she could ever hope to accomplish as the Nightwatchman. Not only that, he was bold, openly flouting the sheriff, at the loss of his freedom, lands, wealth, and titles. He had chosen to toss all things valuable away, just to help others. Peasants! Robin of Locksley was the bravest, most noble and generous man she would ever know. At times, she barely felt worthy to be his friend, let alone his...his what exactly?

She felt he loved her, yet he hadn't said so. Was it because he had promised never to lie to her? She trusted he had never lied...yet he had never spoken the truth either. Or was it the truth? Was that why he had chosen battle over marriage? Was that why he never admitted he loved her? Because he didn't?

At times, he treated her as though she were a foolish little girl, and she hated it. Why didn't he treat her seriously, at all times? The times when he did were glorious! She adored being privy to his true self, to feel respected and honored by him. But at other times, he scoffed at her, and grinned, and acted so superior and smug, she almost hated him for it! She had no idea he usually treated her that way when he felt vulnerable around her himself, masking his insecurities behind bold flippancy. Of course, there were other times when he simply did feel arrogant and superior and pleased with himself, and it showed.

"Milady, drink."

Gisbourne, rightfully, was staring at her with near concern in his steely eyes. No wonder...she had been far away with her thoughts, unaware of her surroundings for the last several moments.

Just as she was about to sip from the goblet offered, Lady Sybille de Lusignan appeared at her side and took the goblet from her.

"Forgive me," she said, placing the cup on a table. "You do not want to drink the sheriff's wine. Apparently, he saves the fine Burgundy wine for his own table, but serves the rest of us near vinegar. Luckily, my husband the count has provided excellent wines from our private cellars. Pray, Lady Marian, allow me to offer you a cup of the finest wine of Poitou."

"Thank you."

Marian was somewhat confused. She had already tasted the sheriff's wine tonight, and had not found it unpleasant. Not wishing to be impolite, however, she took the cup Lady Sybille offered and drank.

The wine tasted odd...bitterly tang. Marian supposed she was not educated enough in wine to know what was considered "fine" and what was inferior. Robin would know. She smiled to herself, thinking how much fun they could have sipping various wines together, arguing over which were "fine" and which were "poor," stopping before they became too merry and lost their reason. But then, everything was fun with him.

She needed to stop, right now. She needed to stop thinking of him.

"Drink, my dear," Lady Sybille was saying, in a kind soothing voice. "Drink every drop. You will feel much better soon, I assure you."

"Thank you, Lady Sybille," Marian said politely, unaware of the strong drug Lady Sybille had poured into the wine.