It seemed incredible to Marian, but not a single villager in Locksley was outdoors enjoying such a lovely, mild evening, as she and Guy walked on Robin's property.

"Why are the people of the village cooped up indoors?" she asked the man who would one day be her husband. "It never used to be like this."

"What?" he asked, suspiciously. "When Hood was lord?"

Marian caught her breath, realizing her blunder. "I...I only meant, when he was at war, before you and the sheriff arrived in the shire. People would be outdoors, visiting. Children would be running about, playing."

She remembered nostalgically the many evenings when she'd been a child, playing Hunt the Fox or Blind Man's Bluff with Robin, Much, and other children of Locksley. Their games had seemed even more thrilling in semi-darkness, before parents called the other children in to bed, and her father would escort her home.

But tonight, Locksley seemed a dead village, for the only people outdoors consisted of herself, Guy, and a handful of his guards.

"I happen to appreciate the privacy their absence allows us," Gisbourne told her, striving for an intimacy that made her distinctly uncomfortable. "What good is a stroll in the moonlight, with a mob of filthy peasants loitering about?"

When he made a move to hold her around her waist and draw her close, Marian pulled away, removing his hands. "Please, Guy," she begged, nervously.

Rejected, Gisbourne grew angry. Reminding himself she would no longer be able to tell him "No," once she was legally his, he commented sneeringly, "Besides, they need to be sleeping. God knows I'll wake them up early enough tomorrow to work my land, the lazy good-for-nothings."

"The people of Locksley are not lazy!" Marian passionately objected.

"You haven't watched them work lately, the slackers," he told her.

"If they seem lazy, it's only because they need nourishment! They're hungry!"

Gisbourne sniffed distastefully, then stepped closer, so he could look directly down on her. "Your concern for the poor is commendable, but misplaced. One day, I'll see you turn all that passion on me, and all that tender-hearted concern on the children you'll bear me, as Lady Gisbourne."

"Guy," Marian said quietly, uneasy as always when reminded of her fate, "do you remember the sermon Father Andrew preached last Sunday?"

He didn't, having only pretended to listen in church, but he said nothing.

"It described our Lord Jesus Christ," Marian explained, changing her tactic toward him, "and how He always met and exceeded people's needs. He fed the hungry, and healed the sick. He loved the poor, and gave everything for them, even His life."

"I know what the Bible teaches, Marian," Guy said condescendingly. "What's your point?"

"My point is, we, who have been blessed, should strive to do no less, even though we cannot measure up. Some people...some lords...used to not only feed the poor, but gave them his best bread, his best meat, his best ale. And not just food, but...but himself! He gave them his friendship, his kindness, his concern! And, if need be, he would lay down his life for them!"

She hadn't meant to say any of it, but the words had spilled out, as she tried to change Gisbourne into the man she secretly loved.

"You had better be talking about your father, Marian," Guy threatened. "I know no other lord who is so misguided."

Marian swallowed back her fear, then lifted her chin, defiantly. "My father, of course. But I do not approve of you calling him misguided."

Gisbourne, happy to delude himself and accept her lie, sought to win back her approval by telling a lie of his own. "I apologize. I cannot often show it, Marian, but I admire your father, for his kindness."

Hope sprang to life in Marian's heart. "Well then, Guy," she said, smiling, "I admire you, for saying so."

"If you will not let me kiss you," he said, beginning to breathe heavily, "at least let me hold your hand. It does wear my ring, after all."

Smiling almost coquettishly, Marian gladly held out her hand. "I rather think it's my ring now, Guy," she told him.

"What is it?" he asked, for she'd suddenly gasped and withdrawn her hand from his hot grasp.

"Nothing," she said guiltily, looking anywhere except at the pair of handsome blue eyes she'd just noticed, staring jealously at her through the trees. "Would you mind bringing me my horse? As you said, Guy, you must be up early tomorrow, and so must I. It's time I rode home, and went to bed."

"Marian, stay. Share my bed, tonight. We're engaged. The Church looks with a blind eye upon those who are contracted to one another."

"Guy...I..."

At that moment, an arrow sizzled past Gisbourne's cheek, so close it grazed it, searing off his light stubble.

"Hood!" Gisbourne bellowed, swearing under his breath as his hand flew to his burning cheek. "Guards! Hood's in Locksley! After him!"