I don't know why, but I really like this chapter.

Thank you, as always, for the reviews, follows, and favorites! *hugs*

flowerbird: Yes, as stated in the story summary, The Taming will be Guy/OFC (Ajsa) and I guess Robin/Marian, though I won't actually write Marian unless in relation to either Guy or Ajsa.

williewildcat: Oh, she crosses the line a lot, for the time period, haha. But she's also relatively fearless in the face of angry men, for reasons that will be revealed later... Plus, as this chapter shows, Guy doesn't exactly hate Ajsa's cheek, lol.

fiamma71: Yes, it was very important for me to emphasize the similarities between Guy's and Ajsa's situations, despite their seeming very dissimilar at first glance. And that does play into his treatment of her; a part of him sympathizes/empathizes with her, which was why he had taken her. She would certainly have been treated more harshly by another man. But on the other hand, he's also warring with his conscience and with the image he's supposed to show, so in a way, his interaction with Ajsa, like his interaction with Marian, brings out this dichotomy but in a slightly different way. And that was always something I'd wanted to explore.

nothinggoingonhere: Haha, thank you! I'm glad you like Ajsa. But I wouldn't necessarily say she's "weak". More like, she knows when to pull back, as williewildcat wrote in a review. But she's definitely sassy!, which is why she's such fun to write. :)

Disclaimer: We all know Robin Hood and Gisborne don't belong to me.

Enjoy! :)

Chapter 5: Honey and Cinnamon Butter

Marian was gone, had sneaked away to a bloody convent, only to return days later and kiss him, before leaving again. It had been a week since that day, since that perfect moment when Guy had actually believed she would finally be with him. He had been an idiot to take a grieving woman's actions seriously.

Still, the thought of her giving herself to God, of being married to God, filled him with a mixture of amusement, despair, and scorn.

"A nun," he scoffed, drinking deeply from his goblet. It was barely seven in the morning, and he was already halfway through a pitcher of wine.

"Sorry?" came a voice from behind him. Guy looked up as Ajsa set a plate of food in front of him. With her limp gone, the girl moved so quietly that he had forgotten about her.

"Nothing," he grunted and picked up the slice of bread. The butter looked different, darker than usual, almost brownish. He sniffed it, fearing it had spoiled, and recoiled in surprise.

For the first time since acquiring her, Guy heard Ajsa laugh. The giggles were louder than he had expected from such a small woman, but against his better judgment, he found himself liking them.

"I mixed in honey and cinnamon," she explained, sitting across from him. He stared at her, eyebrows raised at her brazenness. Obviously, no one had informed her that servants did not sit with masters. "It is one of the ways my village made butter."

"Your village," Guy repeated, one brow arching. "And where is that?"

Her humor vanished, and a stoic expression replaced it.

"Far away," she said, then stood abruptly. Ajsa reached for his plate, but he caught her wrist.

"I didn't say I did not like it." Their gazes met. For an instant, Guy thought he saw a flash of relief on her face, but the cool mask reappeared before he could verify the subtle emotion. "But don't make it too often, mind. Cinnamon isn't cheap."

"Yes, my lord," she said and pulled her arm away to curtsey.

Ajsa had been remarkably well-behaved lately, a fact which both pleased and discomfited Gisborne. He would be lying if he said he hadn't secretly enjoyed her impudence. It reminded him of Marian.

"Oh, and if you are concerned that the Lady Marian will become a nun, worry not," she said wryly. "I have known many nuns, and she is much too spirited to take orders from God."

"How do you know about that?" Guy demanded.

She gave him an exasperated look. Apparently not all her impertinence had departed, as he'd supposed.

"How else do you think servants pass the time?" she inquired. "We gossip. Besides, I overheard you and Alan-A-Dale the night Lady Marian left."

"You should not be eavesdropping on my private conversations," he growled, but the reprimand was half-hearted, and they both knew it.

"Believe me, my lord, I do not do so intentionally," Ajsa quipped, and from her tone, he suspected she was implying more than she was saying. "But the next time he is here, I shall go outside to avoid accidentally overhearing anything."

Now it was his turn to be exasperated. "Get to your duties, girl," he snapped. "And bring me another jug of wine."

"Yes, my lord." She curtseyed again, no hint of mocking in her reply or mannerisms, yet he couldn't shake the feeling that she was nevertheless laughing at him.

Guy sighed. The woman was often more effort than she was worth. But another taste of the honey and cinnamon butter had him reconsidering that thought.

#

Locksley Manor was a flurry of activity, as the servants cleaned, cooked, and prepared for Gisborne's birthday celebration. Ajsa was setting down the massive plates of food, when Alan entered. He whistled, his eyes widening as he took in the room.

"You've gone all out, then, haven' ya?"

"Sir Guy's orders," she replied and turned to retrieve more of the food.

Alan followed, watching her balance two large, silver platters with all sorts of meat on them. He took one of the platters and winked at her.

"Giz'll have your head if you drop one of those."

Ajsa gave him a withering look but did not refuse the help.

"I was not going to drop it," she insisted.

Alan grinned. "Then consider it an act of chivalry for chivalry's sake."

"Chivalry," she snorted. "It has indeed been a long time since I have experienced that."

"Oi! I'm plenty chivalrous," he protested. "And I'd be even more chivalrous if you'd let me."

"Alan!" came Gisborne's shout.

"I think our master will appreciate your chivalry better than I," remarked Ajsa. The hint of a smile played upon her lips, intriguing Alan.

"Nah, you're at least gentle in your rebuffs," he said. Gisborne's shout sounded more impatient this time. "Anyway, I'll see ya later."

"That is inevitable," she replied and returned to setting the table.

A few hours later, the guests began to arrive. Ajsa remained in the kitchen whenever she could, especially once the Sheriff showed up, but with Mary and the other servants occupied with their own tasks, she was often saddled with wine duty.

"A new servant, Gisborne?" asked Vaisey, while Ajsa refilled his goblet.

Guy was relieved that for once, she kept her head bowed and her mouth shut.

"Yes," he replied. "She does her work well."

The Sheriff's gaze traveled over her body, lingering on her hips and breasts, before settling on her face.

"Yes, I'm sure she does," he said. "It's good you've found a pretty distraction from the leper. You were becoming even sulkier than usual."

Gisborne drained his goblet and motioned to Ajsa for more wine. He didn't like the glint in Vaisey's eyes as he watched her, which was ridiculous, because she was a mere slave. Men regularly bedded female servants; that was one of low-born women's uses, or so he was meant to believe. But for a reason he could not explain, he felt that Ajsa was different. She had been someone before her capture, someone of importance and perhaps even of status. And that, coupled with her saucy personality, reminded him too much of Marian for comfort.

"She's a good distraction," he agreed, glancing at the girl out of the corner of his eye. She remained blessedly silent. And soon, Vaisey moved onto the topic of taxes, allowing Ajsa to slip away unnoticed.

After that, the celebration went downhill. Ajsa only knew what she overheard-a one-legged messenger evading capture, Robin Hood, Lardner's ring, and a fool who dealt in tricks. And now Guy and his men, including Alan, were taking the villagers' rings and threatening to cut off their fingers. She observed the scene from the stables, witnessing Gisborne's cruelty for the first time. She had heard stories of it, of course, and first-hand accounts of it, as well, but seeing it for herself gave her much food for thought.

Such as why he had not used violence to force her into obedience.

When the sand in the hourglass ran out, Ajsa went back inside the house to help clean up the feast. There would be no more need for it, and she preferred not to watch Gisborne cut off a woman's finger. For a moment, she paused at the door, considering whether she should try to help the villager. But it was ludicrous to believe that Gisborne would listen to a slave. So she grabbed a rag and began wiping down the tables, feeling supremely guilty for possessing all ten fingers.