I'm so late that I'm actually a tad embarrassed. I was going though some personal shit, which made writing difficult after my RL work, but I am sorry. I'm getting better, though, so hopefully I won't disappear for weeks at a time again...

fiamma71: Yes, Guy does have a tendency to grasp people's wrists, haha. It's why I write it so often in the chapters. You have an incredibly thorough perspective on Guy and Ajsa's interactions. Some of the things you write were not even apparent to me! But you're actually right about them, go figure. I swear you see into my mind. ;)

williewildcat: Yes, Alan is a dear. :) He was my favorite out of Robin's gang, so I jumped at the chance to write him. As for Ajsa's situation, yes, it's quite unfavorable, but I don't think the punishment would come from Guy. He seems to balk at harming women and children, and Ajsa strikes a chord within him, for whatever reason.

Thank you for the continued interest in this story! And special thank you to my reviewers. *hugs*

Enjoy!

Chapter 6: Conversation

Gisborne watched Ajsa clear the table, his signature glower hardening his handsome face. He was frustrated, as was the pattern lately, but there was hurt mixed in with the irritation, as well. How many times was Marian going to refuse him? What more could he do to prove his sincerity? He had returned to face Prince John's troops with her; he had returned to face certain death. Was that not evidence enough of his love for her?

"More wine, Sir Guy?" offered Ajsa.

He looked up at the silver decanter held towards him.

"Yes," he snapped. His other servants would have shrunk away, but Ajsa merely refilled his goblet and observed him with a thoughtful expression. It irked him while it intrigued him. "Stop staring, girl, and get to your duties."

"It is nearly midnight, so I do not have duties," she replied, unruffled by his biting tone. Gisborne wasn't even surprised when she sat down across from him. "You are troubled."

"And you are presumptuous," he retorted.

"Yes," she agreed, the hint of a smile forming on her lips. "But I do not see anyone else willing to listen."

He glared at her. "I never said I wanted to talk."

"No, but you do."

Gisborne downed his wine, then regarded her with a raised brow.

"You sound so sure of that," he said. "Were you a mind-reader before becoming a slave?"

Ajsa's face fell, the subtle smile morphing into a frown. She stood and pushed back the bench, but Guy's hand on hers made her pause.

"I may be presumptuous and insolent, but at least I care that you are troubled." Although her head was bowed, he saw a tear trickle down her cheek. "You, on the other hand, have not ceased to taunt me since you acquired me."

"I'm your master," he reminded her. "You are mine to do with as I wish." Ajsa tried to leave, but he gripped her hand. "Sit."

Gisborne knew that all she wanted to do was to get away from him, but after Marian's rejection and the day's events, he was glad for the company. After she sat down, he refilled his goblet and pushed it towards her.

"Drink," he commanded. She did, and Guy couldn't help but notice the way her throat moved as she swallowed or the slight stain of the wine on her lips. Denied female companionship for so long, he felt himself stirring at the sight. "Tell me about your home."

Ajsa appeared startled by his words, her eyes widening as she looked at him. He raised his eyebrows expectantly yet knew she would not cooperate immediately.

"Why?"

"You are an infuriating woman," he sighed. "Has anyone ever told you that?"

"Yes," she said. "Now answer my question."

"Insolent, too," he muttered and took a long drink of the wine. "You wanted to talk, so talk."

"No," she said, crossing her arms across her chest. "You will only mock me."

Gisborne smirked. "Perhaps, but it's due time you explained why you're different from the other slaves."

"I am more foolish."

"Yes," he agreed, nodding. "But I want to know why."

Ajsa was silent, gazing intently at a knick in the wooden table. He waited with the semblance of patience, while she considered her next action. Finally, she uncrossed her arms and looked at him.

"I was the village healer in Orosháza in the Kingdom of Hungary."

Guy didn't know what he was expecting, but it certainly wasn't that.

"How very anticlimactic," he drawled. "From the way you carried yourself, I'd expected you to have been at least a lesser noble."

"How do you know I am not?"

Gisborne laughed. "Because nobles do not become healers, and healers do not become nobles."

"Not in your narrow-minded view of the world, no," she said, aware of but ignoring the darkening of his features. "My father was important to the king, so he was given lands and a title."

"Damn it," he growled, his hands clenching into fists.

"There is no need to panic," she assured him, correctly ascertaining his thoughts. "My father will not come for me."

"He didn't sell you to Thomas, did he?"

Ajsa regarded him with mild amusement at his dismay.

"No," she replied. "He is dead."

His fists unclenched. Whatever exasperation he had felt towards her had vanished. He knew all too well the pain of losing a parent.

"Mine, too," he said softly. "As is my mother."

She nodded, but whether in agreement or acknowledgement, he did not know. Before he could ask, however, she stood.

"It is late," she said. "And as you never cease to remind me, my tasks begin early."

Guy didn't respond, merely watched her retreat through the kitchen into the servants' quarters. He had made no grand confessions about Marian, yet somehow, he felt more content.