"Your price is still too high," Sir Guy of Gisbourne said sneeringly to the horse trader.
Guy hated the short, stocky, ignorant tradesman he was forced to barter with...hated his bulldog jowls and his dirty, ragged fingernails. If it weren't for the magnificent stallion the man was selling, Guy would never allow himself to engage in any dealings with such a foul person.
"That's my final offer," the horse dealer stated, firmly. "Take it or leave it. Of course, if you can't afford this horse, I could show you several others-"
His words were cut short by Gisbourne's strong hand gripping his collar, and the cold feel of steel biting into his exposed throat.
"Knock off a hundred pounds, and we have a deal."
"Of course, Sir Guy! Whatever you say! A hundred pounds less! Yes!"
Satisfied, Gisbourne released the trembling man, then sheathed his sword, sniffing.
Jealous of a horse, Gisbourne?
The memory of Vaisey's mocking voice continued to taunt him, long after the words had been spoken.
Buy her something. A trinket or two. Women are like animals, Gisbourne. They want to know you can provide for them. It's a nesting thing.
Trinkets hadn't worked. Gisbourne had wasted far too much of his ill-gotten wealth on trinkets she despised and rejected, never achieving his aim to win her. Her rejection of his gifts infuriated him, making him feel less of a man. Dirty. Unworthy. Angry.
But she wouldn't reject this gift.
Even by knocking off a hundred pounds, the horse cost Gisbourne far more than he could afford. But no matter. The sheriff's scheme to ransom the filthy, heathen Saracen prince would more than compensate Gisbourne for his trouble, filling his coffers and giving him wealth no woman could refuse. It would be worth everything, just to see Marian smile upon him once again.
He'd made such progress, thawing her, stirring her even, until Lambert had to go and ruin things with his betrayal!
You forced me to have you killed, Lambert, Guy was thinking, furious and attaching blame to his dead half-brother. How dare you betray me, by giving my enemy your ledger?
Betrayal...the worst sin a man could commit. I'm glad you're dead. I hope it hurt. I hope your death dragged on and on, making you suffer. Torturing you, Traitor.
Traitor! Guy could almost hear Locksley's angry, smug little voice shouting out the accusation against him.
"The biggest regret of my life is I failed to kill you at Acre," Gisbourne sneered to an invisible Robin Hood. "Even more than my regret at failing to kill the King."
A failure! That's what you are! A failure as a son, a failure to the proud heritage of the Gisbournes! I'm ashamed of you! You'll never amount to anything!
Guy closed his eyes, trying to shut out the memory of his drunken father's wounding words.
"Look at me now!" he sneered, to the ghost haunting his memories. "I am Lord of Locksley! I am second-in-command of this shire! Twenty-four men tremble to fulfill my every command! Power and position beyond all measure will soon be mine! And not only that...soon, I will take my incomparable bride to my bed, and she will fill my house with sons. Sons from my loins! No one, not even you, will laugh at me behind my back. Not even the sheriff."
Yes, the stallion would surely do the trick, and please the difficult woman he'd set his heart and mind upon winning. The thought of her warm, white flesh in his bed, under his hands, under his lips, that flesh he'd glimpsed by night through her window, made his breathing heavy, and his loins swell and burn. Leaning against a wall, Gisbourne took deep, panting breaths, dreaming of what he wanted to do to her.