Cecily was extremely displeased that Robin was leading her out of the forest toward Stoke-on-Trent, by way of Knighton Hall. He just had to catch one more glimpse of Marian, she fumed silently. Marian, Marian, Marian!

Well, once he'd said his goodbyes, she'd have him all to herself, for a few days, anyway. And even if she failed to win him, she could at least tarnish his golden opinion of Marian Isabella Fitzwalter of Knighton!

"Would you mind waiting here?" Robin asked politely, reining his horse in the safety of an enclosed grove of trees near the back of the house. "I won't be long."

He helped Cecily dismount, then secured both horse's reins to a tree.

Long enough to kiss her farewell, Cecily thought jealously. Long enough to whisper promises into Marian's small seashell like ear. "I'll wait," Cecily assured him, feeling like a long suffering heroine in a troubadour's love ballad.

Robin grinned and was gone. "He just can't wait to see her," Cecily pouted. "But let's see how long he'll pine for her, when confronted with details of her courtship with Roger of Stoke. After all, it's a fairly long journey to Stoke, and we have to talk about something!"

...

Marian had been so unhappy, realizing she mustn't ever allow herself to love Robin again, she had left her supper untasted and had retired early to her room. Tomorrow she would pick up the pieces of her life again, but tonight, she could only retire to her bedchamber, and let her tears soothe the fresh breaks in her heart.

She thought she was done shedding tears over him, but here they were again, flowing from her eyes as though a dam had burst. It would have made her angry, if she weren't so very, very sad. Without bothering to remove her dayclothes or to snuff out her tapers, she fell asleep on top of her bed's soft green coverlet.

A familiar sound awakened her, but she dismissed it. How many times had she heard Robin's signal in her dreams, while he'd been thousands of miles away in the Holy Land?

But there it was again, sharper and more insistent the second time it fell upon her ears.

He was here, in her yard, beneath her window! He had some nerve!

And then, even more galling, Marian heard him whisper her name from just outside her window! Without waiting to think, she leaped from her bed, stormed to her window, and raised her hands to give him a shove.

"Whoa! Stop, Marian!" Robin cried, laughing jauntily. "You already pushed me to the ground once today! Don't tell me you're not pleased to see me!"

"Go away," she ordered him, her teeth clenched tightly together.

"But why? It's me...Robin! I came to say 'goodbye.' "

All the color drained from Marian's face, and she froze, and swayed on her feet. "Again," she murmured, as if in a nightmare.

Robin's handsome face at her window seemed to be enshrouded in a mist. His voice, too, barely reached her, as she tried to accept that he would soon depart to fight alongside King Richard once more.

"And what will happen to your people?" she managed to blurt out, at last. "Who will carry on your good works, when you're gone?"

Robin didn't understand her strong reaction. "My men will handle things, under John's able leadership. Until I return, of course."

Marian turned to him, her face and manner fierce. "And when will that be?" she demanded.

Robin casually shrugged his shoulders. "In a few days, if all goes well. A week at the most, I'd say. Why are you so alarmed?" He hesitated, then tried to hold back the anger that suddenly boiled within him. "Does this have anything to do with your doings with Roger of Stoke?" he asked.

"Roger?" Marian repeated. She didn't say anything after that for a time, feeling completely overwhelmed. He wasn't returning to war, after all! Thank God!

"Don't act as though you've never heard his name," Robin shouted. "You know him quite well, or so I've been told!"

"Be quiet!" Marian ordered. "Do you want my father to hear you?"

To her fury, Robin suddenly pulled his body all the way through her window, and stood looking down at her from inside her room. "I think it's time you told me about my so called friend, Roger of Stoke. You owe me an explanation, Marian."

"I don't owe you anything! But, since you insist on knowing, I find him a handsome, charming, well mannered knight and gentleman. In fact, I'm ready to marry him and have his children."

"You won't!"

"Very well. I'll marry Gisbourne instead. Is that what you want me to say?"

"I want you to marry...never mind."

"No. Tell me."

Robin stared hard at Marian, longing to say the words. How could he tell her? He had given up the right, years ago, when he chose war. And now, he had nothing whatsoever to offer her.

Convinced that she would laugh in his face if he confessed what was in his heart, he blurted out instead, "I have no right to tell you whom you should marry. Just keep away from Gisbourne while I'm away, alright?"

Before Marian could even huff out an objection, Robin had thrown one leg over her windowsill, and then disappeared entirely into the night.