"How dare you?" Marian demanded of Robin. "You know very well I don't want to marry him."
"You didn't, at first," he answered back, superior and snide. "But that appears to be changing, doesn't it, with his generous gifts, and his dinner parties, and his blatant lies."
"I was trying to change him, to help your people! You shouldn't have been spying! What lies?" she asked at last, once his accusation registered.
"The lie he told, claiming to admire your father, for one. If I'd have known it was that easy to thaw you, I'd have complimented your father a lot more, years ago."
"Grow up," Marian almost spat at him.
What did he mean, "thaw her?" she wondered. She knew she hadn't needed "thawing" when she'd been engaged to Robin. If anything, she'd been far more warm and passionate than was perhaps proper, for a young lady of her station. She grew even more angry under his implication, accented by the smug look on his face.
"Are you such a cad, then, that you would have paid my noble father empty compliments, to try to steal my virtue?" she couldn't help asking.
"They wouldn't have been empty. I really do admire your father. But you know me. Judge for yourself. I'm only pointing out Gisbourne's plan," Robin answered, still overwhelmingly smug. "Isn't that what the gallant Sir Guy was attempting? 'Stay with me tonight,' " he quoted, perfectly mimicking Gisbourne's low, breathy voice. " 'The Church turns a blind eye on-' "
"Shut up!" Marian barked.
"What would you have answered him, Marian, if my arrow hadn't interrupted the tender scene?"
"How dare you? You know very well I'd have refused him, though it's no concern of yours."
"No concern?"
Her words had turned the tables, giving her the upper hand.
Robin, leaning on his bow, suddenly looked stricken, like a small boy whose prized toy was snatched away. "You smiled at him, and held out your hand," he accused in a bewildered tone, as if she'd committed the worst sin imaginable.
The hurt in his eyes unsettled her. Longing to take his cheeks in her hands and confess her heart's true feelings, Marian held back, protecting herself from reopening the wound Robin had caused when he left for battle.
He didn't let her see his hurt for long. As quickly as it had appeared, the look was gone, replaced by proud disdain.
That look made it easy for Marian to readjust her own mask of proud, uncaring scorn. "Since you insist upon spying on me," she coldly announced, "I suggest you get used to watching me hold out my hand to Guy, in a gesture of friendship."
"Friendship?" he cried, not believing what he'd heard. "You can't be friends with a vicious, unprincipled, murdering traitor, Marian! Besides, I hardly think friendship is what he's after."
"He's changing, Robin," she insisted, longing for his good opinion, though she wouldn't admit it to herself. "I'm softening him. I'm awakening his conscience, his kindness. Your people won't have to suffer anymore, once he's...what?"
His snide laughter stopped her flow of words, making her uneasy.
"He has no conscience, Marian," Robin smirked, stepping nearer. "Believe me, that's not what your smiles and handholding will awaken in him, and he definitely won't 'soften.' "
"How dare you?" she asked again, blushing angrily at his implication.
Robin regretted his words, finding them rude and unworthy of her esteem, which he longed to hold. But he wouldn't apologize, not during this argument.
"Tell me one thing," he asked, through clenched teeth, his eyes hard and deadly serious.
Taking her silence for assent, he pressed on. "Why do you believe him over me, about his plot to kill the King?"
Marian's jaw finally did drop open, for his blunt question threw her completely off guard.
"I don't, necessarily," she admitted, flustered. Recovering her outward composure, she continued, "I haven't asked him for the truth yet."
"And he'll be so forthcoming and honest," Robin said mockingly. Showing his anger, he shouted, "I thought you would have learned by now! A man who suffers no qualms about killing will have no difficulty, telling a lie!"
Before Marian could think of an answer, the drape was pulled back, revealing a startled, anxious Much. "Master, shh!" he warned. "Everyone in the marketplace can hear you! Let's go!"
"One moment, Much," Robin said, coolly. Turning back to Marian, he delivered one final thrust. "You're too astute not to know what I said is true. You just can't admit it, because you're moved by him, aren't you?"
He couldn't bring himself to say the word "stirred." Not yet. The memory of Gisbourne boasting it was still too raw.
"I don't know what to believe," Marian told him, ignoring the question he really wanted her to answer. "After all, I learned my lesson, believing all your promises."
Her final thrust cut Robin so deeply, he reeled backward a step, then recovered himself.
"Master, let's go!" Much frantically repeated.
"One more thing," Marian hastened to add, feeling she'd won the argument. "I've solved your problem about the mine, if you care."
"How?" Robin asked, amazed.
"You'll see soon enough," she bragged, borrowing words from his mouth that never failed to infuriate her.
So saying, she swept past him and Much, threw back the drape, and stepped boldly into the marketplace, walking away with her head held high and a spring in her step, knowing his bewildered, amazed eyes were following her every step.