Marian, unknowingly drugged on tainted wine, was not even aware of Lady Sybille de Lusignan guiding her up flight after flight of stairs, all the way to the top of one of the highest towers of Nottingham Castle. Upon stepping out into the rushing wind, she recovered only enough of her senses to realize she was at the top of the castle in the dark of night.

With her mind's altered state, she could think of only two reasons she might find herself in such a place at such a time of night. Either she had snuck away to the romantic privacy at the top of the castle to kiss her beloved Robin of Locksley under the stars, or else he was no longer her beloved, and she was the Nightwatchman, sneaking through the castle to provide aid and comfort to those in need. She was hoping desperately her first guess would prove true.

But her female companion tonight was obviously not Robin. Nor did the remarkably beautiful woman appear to be needy, attired as she was in elegant finery. Even with the world revolving in a whirling dance around her, Marian could see the glitter of gems on the lady's person, the rich fabrics of her gown, and its full, billowing skirts.

Marian felt she must not speak. If she was indeed acting as the Nightwatchman tonight, she needed to remain silent and not disclose her identity. Feeling as though she were floating and revolving faster and faster through the chilly air, she did the only thing she felt strong enough to do. She lay down on the floor of the tower, curled up in a ball like a sleeping cat, and closed her eyes.

"You mustn't sleep, my dear," the lady's cultured, accented voice somehow reached her ears, but she hadn't the will to acknowledge it. All she longed for was to rest, undisturbed. But the lady would not let her be.

"Come," the voice was insisting, "stand and admire the view. Where is your home? Point out its direction to me. Knighton Hall, isn't that what it's called?"

At the mention of her home, Marian blinked open her eyes. The woman was struggling to pull her to her feet, so she helped her by standing, as well as she was able, and raised a shakey finger to point northeast, toward Knighton. Even in her drugged condition, she knew her way home.

"That way?" the lady seemed to be saying. "Or is it over here?"

Marian had no idea what happened next. She seemed to feel herself being yanked and shoved, and she felt the nightmarelike sensation of falling, but then, all at once, the breath was knocked out of her when she felt herself being scooped into a pair of strong masculine arms, and then the exhilarating rush of being held in one of those arms while swinging from a rope, and being quickly and carefully lowered down, down, down, and, in what seemed like no time at all, she knew she was riding face down across Robin's lap as he drove his horse faster than necessary through the night.

"Let me up! Let me up!" she demanded, once her head was clear enough for her to speak coherently. "How dare you fling me over your lap, like a sack of grain? You will pay for this, Robin of Locklsey!"

He reined his horse, giving Marian the opportunity she needed to pull herself up. She somehow managed to flip her body around, so that she sat straight up, straddling his horse backwards, her furious face just inches away from his grinning one.

Marian's head felt fuzzy. In fact, her entire body ached, and her blood flowed sluggishly, especially in her extremities.

She wasn't so disoriented that she couldn't spot the concern in Robin's eyes, even if he was trying to hide it behind his cheeky grin.

"What is happening?" Marian cried, completely at a loss.

"I just thought you might enjoy a midnight ride," Robin teased her, then amended his story to confess the truth. "No, that's not entirely true. I rescued you, Marian."

"Rescued me?" she scoffed. "Don't be ridiculous."

"As you wish," he said, unperturbed, pleased she was well enough to string five words together.

Robin continued smiling down at her, his face aglow with adoration in the moonlight.

Sitting backwards on his saddle was awkward for Marian, and without meaning to, she leaned into him and rested her head on his chest. Immediately, he let go of the reins with one hand and wrapped that arm around her.

"What really happened?" she asked, murmuring her words as she nuzzled her cheek against him.

She couldn't see that he had closed his eyes, savoring this rare moment of closeness. If he hadn't gone to the castle tonight, Marian might likely be dead! The thought was too horrific to dwell on, so he put it out of his mind, and concentrated on the feel of her lovely body pressed against him, and the softness of her hair, and her rose petal scent, and her-

"Robin, your heart is racing," Marian told him, as if he wasn't aware of the pounding of his heartbeats.

Shaking himself back to practical matters, he told her, "Face forward. I need to take you to Djaq."

"Djaq? The Saracen? Why?"

"I need Djaq to check you over. Make sure you're alright."

"Of course I'm alright. And even if I'm not feeling completely well, what can a Saracen boy do?"

"Just flip yourself around, Marian. Trust me."

With difficulty, she did as he requested, and before long, they were with the rest of his gang in their temporary camp in the forest.

The other outlaws were surprised to see her. Will Scarlet bowed his head respectfully, Little John ignored her, Allan a Dale grinned and blew out an appreciative "wolf whistle," and Much greeted her fondly.

But Robin took her immediately to Djaq, explained how Marian had been behaving, and stepped aside.

There was something not right about the Saracen boy, Marian believed. He tried too hard to act manly, when there was something soft underneath. Marian could tell he was trying to hide something, and he made her feel very uncomfortable.

"That's enough," she decided, very soon after Djaq began examining her. "Take me back to the castle, Robin."

"I'm sorry, Marian. I can't do that."

"You can't...? Why not? Robin of Locksley, you take me back this instant!"

He didn't move a muscle, but just peered into Much's cooking pot, to see what there was to eat. Sampling the stew with his finger, he pursed his lips, then repeated, "Sorry."

"What do you mean, 'sorry?' "

"I've kidnapped you, Marian. You're staying here with me, for now, until it's safe for you to return."

She stared at him in disbelief, her mouth wide open.

"Not bein' funny," Allan said to Will, "but if she doesn't shut her mouth, I'll wager you ten to one I can toss this acorn straight down her gullet."

"Ladies don't have gullets, Dunderhead," Much told him knowingly.

"No? What do they have then?"

Much scratched his head. "They have windpipes. Finely tuned windpipes, like silver flutes. And no more whistling at Marian, if you know what's good for you! Robin's a whole 'nother person when he's jealous. You ought to know that by now! Just remember what he did to Aylesbury!"

"Yeah, yeah, I know. Hands off," Allan agreed.