Monday, October thirteenth, Derbyshire…
Mistress Celestria smiled to herself as she eased her horse over the hilly, rocky path she was taking on her way back to Nottingham. She felt she had enough of the items she would need to achieve the results she was seeking.
There was someone she knew back in her hometown of Castleton whom she decided to consult about the matter, after she realized her grave mistake from just over a fortnight ago. Celestria thought about it all that night after she left Nottingham Castle. She knew there was only one thing to do to save her. She had to somehow feign that she was with child – but how? And then on Thursday morning, only hours after she had tricked the Sheriff by tainting his brandy with the potion, the thought came to her and she made her choice.
What had he said to her when he was sending her away in the middle of the night? Celestria thought about it a few moments, then it came to her. She frowned. She could hear his voice echoing as sternly in her mind now as he sounded to her then when he uttered the words: "… if I ever find you tried to trick me, you shall die. I can't promise you anything, but I can promise you that." She remembered it took all of the will she could summon to nod at him and maintain her composure, for she was certain she felt the colour leave her face only a moment later when she closed the door of his chambers behind her.
So, when she made it to her family's home in Castleton, she arranged a visit with the lady in the neighbouring manor who kept to herself somewhat but had always been kind to Celestria. Lady Gunilda had known Celestria for years – most of Celestria's life, in fact. Celestria always knew the lady was a little different than most other ladies in the village. It was four years ago that Lady Gunilda confided in her that she dappled in black magick and alchemy.
Celestria went to see her just last week. She quickly explained her situation to the attractive, middle aged, raven haired lady. Lady Gunilda was quite beautiful. Celestria always wondered why she was not married, but perhaps it was because she frightened her suitors away, for indeed the lady was very clever, confident, and most definitely independent. For a lady living alone – she managed very well. The lady was tall and slender, yet perfectly proportioned, and possessed a voice that both soothed and commanded attention. Lady Gunilda rarely had to raise the volume of her voice to get her point across. She was beautiful and seemed quite wise, albeit eccentric and somewhat misguided. Celestria remembered her visit with the strange and beautiful lady who lived next door to her family's home.
"I have some common household items and herbs at my disposal that will help you achieve this, my dear." Lady Gunilda smiled. Her fitted, black and red satin gown rustled along the floor as she moved toward the mistress.
"Why don't you tell me what they are? If they are that common, perhaps I can obtain them myself?" Celestria suggested.
"What – you're going to sneak into the kitchen at the brothel and risk explaining yourself to the cooks and perhaps your Madam? Please! I think not, my dear. You leave it to me." Lady Gunilda smiled.
"So what is it you suggest?" Celestria said, curiously.
"I can make it appear as if you are carrying a child, Celestria – for a little while anyway. That's all I can do for you though. You must find yourself a child if you wish to carry on with this little act of yours." Lady Gunilda grinned. She crossed her left arm across her and leaned the other elbow upon her hand. Her chin rested upon her right hand thoughtfully as she stared at Celestria. "Aren't you fun? Oh, I do love games!" She laughed. "Especially games like this one where a no good man is getting his just deserts!" A beat. "Who is he anyway?"
"I don't know if I should say." Celestria frowned and looked downcast.
"Oh, come now! What are the odds I would know him anyway?" Lady Gunilda grinned wickedly.
"Uhm, well… he is the Sheriff of Nottingham." Celestria said softly.
"Not a word to anyone else about this – do you hear me?" Lady Gunilda said sharply. "You will not speak of this to another soul – what you are trying to do, and to whom! Most especially to whom!" Lady Gunilda said firmly. "If is fortunate for you that I care for you, my dear, or else I would never agree to help you knowing this." The lady sighed, shaking her head.
"You asked." Mistress Celestria muttered.
"Indeed I did, and for very good reason. No one must ever know you involved me. Let's get that straight right now before I proceed with this endeavor of yours. Do you agree to this?" Lady Gunilda asked pointedly.
"Aye. No one shall know of you, Gunilda. You have my word."
"Good." Lady Gunilda smiled. She took a sip of mead from her teacup. She liked the feel of the cup in her hand, but much preferred spirits to tea.
"So, what are these household items? What do they do?" Celestria asked.
"I shall give you herbs to make you vomit in the mornings, other common household items to apply to your skin in a paste to give your complexion a very pink and rosy appearance, and I have a sugar cane tonic I shall give you to help you gain weight." Lady Gunilda explained.
"What? Gain weight?" Celestria gasped.
"You want to look like you're carrying a child inside of you, don't you, foolish girl? This is your game, honey, not mine. If you're going to play it, you had better play it right." Gunilda smirked as she quirked an eyebrow over her caramel coloured eyes.
"Yes. You're right, Lady Gunilda." Celestria sighed. "But how shall I gain weight if you're giving me herbs to make me heave?" She asked, bewildered.
"It's all about timing, my dear. You take the herbs that shall bring on the sudden malaise just before you rise in the mornings, and when you are finished with… that, you will begin to take the tonic. The pastes you shall apply to your face and chest before you greet people, and you're ready! It's that simple, my dear!" Lady Gunilda laughed.
"Hmm. Interesting. Alright, I guess if that is all then I am interested in these items you have." Celestria said.
"You got gold, my dear?" Gunilda asked.
"Aye." Celestria nodded.
"Good. Fifty gold pieces oughta do it, my dear." The beautiful witch grinned.
It turned out that Lady Gunilda was most helpful. Celestria sighed as she thought of the amount of gold she had parted with, but knew that it would all be worth it the end. For inside of her portmanteau along with her gowns and other small trinkets, were the following items she would use to achieve her goal: chamomile, rock salt, and licorice root to induce vomiting, a small bag of black pepper as well as finely ground ginger and mustard to apply in a paste to her skin to redden it, and the sugar cane tonic to help her to gain weight. This was the only way. The only way the Sheriff would not kill her is if he thought she carried his child. She sighed. She prayed he would never know what she was up to now. She knew there would be no mercy for this game she was playing, but she knew she had nothing to lose and everything to gain – if it worked.
And it must work! For there was a rather fortunate occurrence that took place, as it turned out for the mistress. It was then, when Mistress Celestria discovered while she visited in Castleton that her cousin, Lucia was in an unfortunate way, she arranged to meet with her as well. Her cousin was engaged in the same business as Celestria, only in Celestria's mind, her cousin was never careful. The girl was barely fifteen and very frightened by her circumstances. Celestria grinned as she recalled meeting with her cousin.
"I do not want this child!" The girl began to sob.
"Do not worry, Lucia. I'll take care of it. I will take your infant from you and care for it until you get on your feet, or perhaps if all works out we can make some other… arrangement?" Celestria said smoothly. She knew it would work. Lucia looked remarkably like Celestria, so Celestria hoped the infant would bear some resemblance to her.
"Oh! Would you, Celestria?" Lucia exclaimed as she dried her tears.
"Indeed. Do not think of it." Celestria smiled.
Celestria grinned as she thought of it. Everything had come together so perfectly for her. She had covered all of her tracks too, just as the Sheriff said to her – or rather, threatened: "I'm very good at covering my tracks." Nottingham had said firmly to her that night as he stroked her cheek. Well, she would too. As he instructed, she finally burned the letter he sent her – only two days ago, in her parents' home. Now she wondered if she made the right choice? She might have been able to use the letter to save her somehow, though she wondered who at all in Nottingham would listen to her word over the Sheriff's.
She debated staying in Castleton longer, but she soon remembered why it was she left. She needed her freedom back and anyway she couldn't stay away forever. If she didn't return he would come looking for her at some point.
She kicked her horse and urged it faster toward her destination. It was time for the games to begin.
On Tuesday in the afternoon, Rebeccah was outside speaking to Lady Rhiannon's stable master. She was startled to hear a horse approaching for there were few visitors to the manor since the lady moved to the castle, save for the Sheriff from time to time, and Lady Rhiannon of course. And then Rebeccah remembered. It was Tuesday. Would Lady Rhiannon be recovered by now? It had been just over a week since the Sheriff stopped by to the manor on his way to Portsmouth. Rebeccah turned around. She smiled warmly. It was not Lady Rhiannon, nor the lady's betrothed. It was Master Aleyn instead. She excused herself from the stable master, then walked toward her handsome suitor and smiled a greeting at him.
He stopped his horse and dismounted, then walked toward her holding the reins.
"Good day, my lady. You are a sight for tired eyes." He smiled.
"Why, thank you, Master Aleyn. It is good to see you – except you forgot. It is Tuesday. The lady may come by today." Rebeccah pointed out with her eyebrow quirked.
"Oh, my. Why, I'd completely forgotten! How silly of me." Ancel sighed and shook his head in feigned embarrassment. "Well, I must go then. You mustn't be seen with me, it is her home after all." Ancel said.
"It is quite alright, Aleyn. I am sure the lady won't mind when she meets you. You are only stopping by, it's not like you're looking for a place to stay!" She laughed.
"Indeed." He smiled.
"Would you like to come in? Perhaps a goblet of wine to warm you?" Rebeccah offered.
"Wine, you say? Not… tea?" Ancel asked.
"No, milord. I think perhaps wine would serve to warm you better." Rebeccah smiled.
"Oh, I'm sure you're right, my fine lady." Ancel smirked. He secured his horse to a tree and offered his arm to Rebeccah. She took it willingly and they went inside the manor.
Ancel was hoping that the Sheriff's lady would come by today. He had it all figured out if she did.
And so the rest of the week progressed, yet to Nottingham it felt like time was standing still. He was no further along by the time the following Monday arrived than he was the week before, except that his lady had improved considerably and responded very well to being weaned from the wine. It had been over a fortnight since the event happened where she came close to losing their child. Even though she appeared to be doing well, he couldn't shake the nagging feeling that something may go awry.
It had been over a week since he instructed his men to search all day, every day for the heretic and his henchman. Each night, his Lieutenant and his Captain would report the same thing with growing frustration as each day continued – that they turned up nothing. Indeed it was like the outlaw had completely vanished!
It was nearing midday as the Sheriff rode into Nettlestone. He was heading to Gisborne's manor for two reasons: to see his son, and to speak to his Officer, Richard about a personal favour. He smiled as he urged his horse along the winding path. He thought more about what his lady had said, and he knew exactly what to do. He grinned as he remembered how the idea had come to him. It was the one thing that might serve to move certain matters in his life in a forward direction.
Some time later, he secured his horse to a tree not far from the path the led to the manor, then he strolled down the path toward the door.
"Good day, milord Sheriff." Richard nodded.
"Good day, Richard." The Sheriff replied. He looked to Nigel. "Nigel." He nodded.
"Greetings, milord." Nigel said. He clasped his hands in front of him.
"Are you only here for a brief visit, milord?" Richard asked of his master.
"Well, actually, Richard – that depends on you." The Sheriff smirked.
"Milord?" Richard asked, bewildered.
"I have a task for you, Richard – except it is your artistic talent I require of you." The Sheriff said.
"Oh, I see." Richard smiled. His green eyes twinkled.
"How long would you require your subject to sit still for you?" Nottingham asked.
"Well, I can draw from memory as you know, milord, but if there was something particular you had in mind it would be better for me to see it." Richard explained. He noted the Sheriff's impatient expression just then and sighed. "Probably three or four hours at best, milord." He said.
"Alright. I can live with that." The Sheriff smiled. "That's better than what I imagined."
"Alright, milord." Richard said, still rather puzzled. "What is it you want me to draw?" Richard asked, curiously.
"Bah! Good thing we're slow around here." Nigel huffed.
The Sheriff shot Nigel a scornful look. His knight smiled impishly and looked downcast.
"Come. Let's go inside and I shall tell you all about it." The Sheriff smiled to Richard. He slapped him on the shoulder and led him into the manor. "This will be a gift for my lady, Richard. Just so you know." The Sheriff said as his eyebrow shot north knowingly.
"Ah. I see." Richard nodded.
"Oh, I forgot." The Sheriff frowned. "What do you require to achieve this? I brought no parchment or –"
"Do not worry, milord. I still have some charcoal and parchment paper available. It is left over from the countless drawings I did when we were in Yorkshire, milord – a miracle indeed." Richard sighed.
"Very good." The Sheriff smiled. "Why don't you get yourself set up in the sitting room? I shall have a word with Lady Isabelle and look in on my son while you do that." He said.
"That will be fine, milord." Richard nodded.
The Sheriff spoke to Isabelle about his son's progress. She assured the Sheriff that his son was healthy and thriving. Robert had returned to the castle two days ago and resumed his duties in the armoury. Lady Isabelle was perfectly comfortable managing the child on her own and was happy to be occupied. The Sheriff noted that his son seemed very happy in his Auntie 'Izzy's' company as well, so as far as he was concerned, things worked out very well. He was going to suggest she help out Lady Margaret when the midwife returned. In fact, the Sheriff thought his son was doing better in the care of his future sister in law than the midwife. The Sheriff visited with his son for a brief time, and then returned to the sitting room. He grinned as he stood in the doorway.
Richard turned around when he heard his master's footsteps. His jaw flew agape. "Milord Sheriff, I've never drawn – "
"Well, you will now!" The Sheriff said firmly. He walked over to the chair by the fireplace and seated himself.
"Are you sure you want to do this?" Richard asked as he narrowed his green eyes upon his master. This will never work, but I must not fail!
The Sheriff sighed and rolled his eyes. "No, Richard. I left several duties behind including that cursed town council meeting, just so I could take a leisurely ride out here in the middle of bloody nowhere, sit idle for a time, as well as manage – "
"Hmm." Richard nodded as he stroked his chin and took in the scene before him. "This may be tricky, milord Sheriff. It can be very unpredictable – all of that fidgeting. You just never know – "
"You will do this, Richard. I've seen what you can do, lad." A beat. "You can do this. Lose your fear. You're my knight. You have no fear! Of all things to fear, don't fear your gift." The Sheriff said, unblinking.
"Yes, milord. I will do this for you, but you will see at the end of it why I've never drawn… why I choose not to draw –"
"Oh, for pity's sake, just do it! Do I look like I have all day to you?" The Sheriff huffed as he nodded to his lap.
Richard sighed. "As you wish, milord."
Richard sat at a table before the Sheriff and laid the parchment on the table. He narrowed his eyes as he studied the scene before him on the chair to the right of the fireplace. He tilted his head, ran his fingers though his wavy, dark hair with one hand and then he began to work with the charcoal held in his right. The endeavor took him four hours to get it right. The artist was very critical of himself and thought he could have done better, but his master was indeed very pleased.
The Sheriff smiled as he rode back toward Nottingham later in the afternoon. He wasn't sure when he was going to give one of the drawings to his lady. His knight made two drawings at Nottingham's request. The second one was easy for Richard because he only studied the first one and copied a small portion of it for the second drawing. The second drawing was going to be Lady Rhiannon's wedding gift. One of them anyway. The first drawing would have to be presented when the timing was absolutely perfect. The Sheriff knew that when it came to this particular matter, he was worrying about timing a little bit too much, but he also knew that he would know it in his gut when the time to show it to her would present itself.
The Sheriff was glad to have thought of the idea. He had been wondering for months how on earth he would tell her? How could he ever make her believe it when she had no memory whatsoever, for whatever reason? The Sheriff sighed. When I tell her – it must work! Now I shall have the proof! She's got to believe me now! Indeed, he was hoping that his Officer's artistic talents would assist in this troublesome matter. This wasn't the first time that Richard's skills had come in handy to help the Sheriff's son. Let him help my son again.
That very night at dusk, Hamon and Ancel were seated upon logs by the fire in the clearing, deep in the heart of Sherwood Forest. They were discussing their plans for the next day. They wanted to be ready if the Sheriff's lady showed up at her manor.
"We will be ready and waiting if she turns up, Ancel." Hamon said. He took a sip of mead from his flask then continued. "I shall wait amongst the trees. We will be prepared to carry out the plan."
"Maybe it's better if I wait there with you?" Ancel suggested. "Rebeccah was curious last week when I went there."
"No. You go there to visit your little lady. That way we can corner the cursed bitch if she shows up. You'll get her in there, and failing that, I'll get her outside of her manor. She won't stand a chance of escape if we're both there." Hamon smiled wickedly.
"Alright. I'll do it. We'll leave here in the morning. If we get there early we'll keep watch. I'm not knocking on the door until after midday, unless the Sheriff's lady turns up. Rebeccah will think there's something funny if I stay too long." Ancel pointed out.
"Good. Now you're thinking, Ancel." Hamon sneered. "Let's just hope little miss, Lady Nottingham in the making makes it this time!" He spat.
"Surely she's recovered by now? It's been a fortnight." Ancel sighed.
"She's bound to show up one of these times, Ancel. We shall increase the frequency of our observations at her manor. She could show up on any given day of the week! We must be ready." Hamon said firmly.
"Yes." Ancel said absently.
"You do what you must with your lady tomorrow, but remember this: if that cursed bitch of the Sheriff's shows up – your lady shall become your prisoner. Don't get any ideas about saving her." Nigel said, unblinking.
"Yes. I hear you." Ancel sighed.
"If you had any fantasies of taking the little wench I strongly suggest you do it very soon or else you shall lose your opportunity altogether." Hamon snarled as he quirked his eyebrow.
"Duly noted… Master." Ancel spat facetiously.
"Don't you get lippy with me! You have no choice. You shall hang too, so either way you cut it, friend, your little whore is doomed. Either she perishes in a fire, or hangs in the Village Square – because she chose to consort with you!" A beat. "Do you get it now, Ancel?" Hamon huffed.
"Aye. I get it indeed." Ancel sneered.
"She chose her fate the day she chose to ally herself with the Sheriff's lady – and then she sealed it when she met you. Do not have any illusions about her!" Hamon said sharply.
"Yes. I got it the first time." Ancel huffed. He stood up and kicked at the log angrily.
"Get a grip, Ancel!" Hamon barked. He stood up and went swiftly to his henchman.
Ancel turned to face him and folded his arms. "She's served her purpose. We can let her go and continue to stake out the Sheriff's lady's manor." Ancel said firmly.
"You fool! She's really done a number on you – this lady servant of hers, hasn't she?" Hamon exclaimed, incredulous. "You know, I thought there was hope for you because you were starting to show some imagination to your thinking lately, but I see I was wrong. Now you're only thinking with that which lies between your legs!" Hamon spat. "Think, Ancel! She'll go straight to the castle and tell the lady and her precious Sheriff everything! This is a game, Ancel. Your lady is a pawn! Face it and move on, will you? Stay with the cursed plan!" Hamon bellowed.
"Yes." Ancel said.
"Yes… what? You're not inspiring much confidence with me!" Hamon said sharply as his hand rested precariously above the handle of his sword.
"Yes, I am with you in this… plan." Ancel said through his clenched jaw.
"Good. That's better." Hamon grinned. "Oh, cheer up, friend. If you cooperate I'll give you a chance to bed your lady – before I burn her along with her employer, that is!" He laughed.
The Sheriff returned to the castle a few hours past dusk that Monday night. He sighed when he went into the den. He could see light streaming from underneath the doors that led into the bedchamber. He walked over to a desk in the corner of the room near the fireplace and opened a drawer. He took the two scrolls of the drawings from under his belt and hid them there. Nottingham smiled as he began to close the drawer. Just then he heard the doors open behind him. He sighed. He slowly and quietly closed the drawer, then turned around and faced his lady.
Lady Rhiannon stood there in the doorway wearing her burgundy velvet dressing gown that he loved seeing her wear. Her arms were folded and her eyebrow quirked suspiciously upon her lover.
"Ah! There you are, my lady!" Nottingham smiled as he strode toward her.
She sighed and looked away.
"My lady? What is it?" The Sheriff asked, though he knew very well what the problem was. Nothing could possibly prepare him for how great she had blown the problem up to be, however.
"You must be jesting?" She asked, incredulous. "Where were you? Oh, and don't give me this – "There you are." bit! What do you mean – there you are? Where else would I be but here – waiting on you?" Lady Rhiannon huffed.
"Rhiannon?" The Sheriff asked, shaking his head.
"God! Not only do you not wish to be with me – you wish to hold me prisoner as well! What am I to you, George? Am I to be your wife? Or your toy? What is with all of this secrecy?" Lady Rhiannon demanded.
"My lady, you assume too much." The Sheriff sighed as he stood before her.
She was only getting started.
"Ha! Do I now?" She asked facetiously. "What the hell is going on? Where is my sister in law? Where was my brother for over a week? And don't tell me it was busy in the armoury either! What is Guy doing over in Nettlestone much of the time?" Lady Rhiannon demanded as she paced the floor. She stopped and narrowed her eyes upon him. "And most of all – whom is occupying your time?" She asked pointedly as she stared into his eyes, unblinking. "Because you see, it isn't me. So it must be someone quite precious – whomever she is!" Rhiannon huffed. She folded her arms and turned away from him.
The Sheriff sighed and looked downcast. Not a 'she', my lady. It is a little boy who is stealing me from you. Our boy. Curses! He walked up behind her and put his hands on her shoulders. She turned around to face him.
"My love, you have this all wrong." The Sheriff said slowly.
She began to roll her eyes and looked away. He put his hands upon her shoulders again. Think, damn it! Think! You must come up with something!
"Rhiannon." The Sheriff said firmly.
His lady looked downcast.
The Sheriff reached out and put his fingertips upon her chin. He tilted her chin upward and she was forced to meet his gaze. "My lady Rhiannon, you are the only lady in my life. I needed to go out of town but I did not wish to tell you about it." He sighed and shook his head. "But now I see I have no choice and this shall spoil my surprise entirely." He frowned.
"Surprise?" Rhiannon asked, curiously.
"Indeed I did meet with someone today, my Lady Nottingham." A beat. "About my wedding gift to you." The Sheriff grinned. "Alas, the person best suited to provide this… one of a kind, exquisite gift does not live in town." The Sheriff explained.
"You're sure." She said with her eyebrow quirked suspiciously.
"My lovely Rhiannon, I am telling no lie." The Sheriff said unblinking as he stared into her soft green eyes.
She sighed and shook her head. "You're right. You are not fibbing. At least – I think you're not." She said as she narrowed her eyes and tilted her head studying him.
"Good. Now that we've got that out of the way." The Sheriff grinned as he pulled her to him and held her.
Lady Rhiannon pushed him away. He looked upon her curiously.
"Rhiannon? What is going on?" The Sheriff asked, bewildered by her behaviour.
"Ha! You tell me, lover! We didn't get anything out of the way – by the way." Rhiannon huffed. "You didn't answer all of my questions. I'm still as much in the dark now as I was before. You keep leaving me for long periods of time, then offering me weak excuses for it hours later – as an afterthought!" Rhiannon cried, her voice was raised a decibel or two. "In the meantime – I cannot leave these chambers for some unexplained, god forsaken reason!" She shouted. She felt the hot tears of anger stinging her cheeks as they trickled down her face. "Is my misery what makes you happy? Do not toy with me! You cannot have it both ways, George of Nottingham! You cannot have your cursed, little harlot waiting for you in God knows what village – and also have your obedient, obsequious little wife waiting for you like a cursed prisoner! You're burying me alive!" Lady Rhiannon shrieked.
"Rhiannon?" The Sheriff asked, incredulous. She was beside herself! His eyes widened. What was she trying to say to him?
She quickly moved toward him and began to beat upon his chest. "Why won't you let me out of here? It's you! It's not the physician – it is you! I know it is!" Rhiannon shouted. "Is this what it has come to? I wondered when the real you would finally show up!" She screamed.
He put his hands firmly upon her shoulders and shook her gently. She caught her breath and looked up at him. "My lady – listen to me! There is no other lady in my life. Now… calm yourself, my love. You shall be permitted to leave the chambers." The Sheriff sighed. "You are permitted anywhere within the walls that surround the castle, but heed my words: you shall not venture anywhere beyond the grounds without telling me! Promise me, Rhiannon!" The Sheriff said sharply.
"What is going on, George?" Lady Rhiannon implored him.
The Sheriff sighed. "There is danger lurking." He said softly.
"What danger?" She asked.
"You must trust me, Rhiannon. I told you before: this is not punishment. It is an act of love. I am trying to protect you from harm. There is indeed danger lurking about in Nottingham, but I cannot say more than that at this time." The Sheriff explained, even though he couldn't even begin to explain it to himself. He was still trying to figure out the meaning behind Mortianna's vision.
"So if I am in danger – do not leave me." Rhiannon said knowingly.
"Forgive me, my angel. I should have told you I needed to leave for a time. I will be here for you." He said softly.
"You better be!" She huffed. She still couldn't shake the thought that he was hiding something. "Does any of this have anything to do with…" She closed her eyes. "Celestria?" Lady Rhiannon sighed.
The Sheriff shook his head. "What?" He asked, increduluous.
"You can tell me. For God's sake, just tell me! One more time, because I'm certain there was a fib somewhere in that tale of yours, George – who is she?" Lady Rhiannon demanded.
"My lady Rhiannon, you are my lady love. You shall be my Lady Nottingham. I am true to you as I've always been." The Sheriff said. He tried very hard to maintain eye contact for he knew that once he wasn't true to her. Or was he? He thought he was touching his lady! He was tricked! When I get my hands on that sodding whore I shall choke the life out of her with my bare hands! "I promise you, Rhiannon - you are the only lady for me." He smiled.
Lady Rhiannon sighed.
"Am I really… burying you alive?" The Sheriff asked as his eyebrow shot north.
"You led me to believe you lost interest in me. You never touch me anymore! You know what is pathetic? I know more about your cousin's whereabouts on any given day than I do of yours! How ridiculous is that?" Lady Rhiannon pointed out, facetiously.
"How would you know what Gis would be up to every day?" The Sheriff asked with his amber eyes narrowed suspiciously.
"Because he is forthcoming with his wife! Meridwyn knows what he's doing, but I haven't the faintest idea what you're up to most of the time!" Lady Rhiannon exclaimed.
"My love, I have a slightly higher responsibility than that of my cousin." The Sheriff commented dryly. He sighed. "A lot of the information I'm privy to is highly confidential. Some of what I do must remain secret – sometimes even to you. I can never risk certain things being found out, particularly matters I am investigating." The Sheriff explained.
"Yes, yes, I know. I must understand. I must trust you. I've heard it all before." Lady Rhiannon sighed.
"You must ask yourself, Rhiannon – if you can handle being my wife? I thought you could, but now I'm beginning to wonder." Nottingham sighed.
"And what is that supposed to mean? You're going to cast me aside now? In the condition I am in?" Rhiannon asked, incredulous.
"No! No, my angel, you misunderstand me!" The Sheriff said. He went to her and held her to him. He smoothed her hair and kissed her forehead. "My love, this is ludicrous. Let us not digress any further and end up in a quarrel. My lady, we will be married in three weeks time. Let us focus on our new life together!" The Sheriff whispered excitedly. "Tell me, Rhiannon – are you ready for it?" He asked.
"Of course I am ready to be your wife." Rhiannon smiled, despite herself.
"No, I mean – are we prepared? Is your gown ready? What of your last meeting with Galfrey?" The Sheriff asked.
"Everything is ready, my prince. Do not worry. It will happen. Finally, it will happen for us." Lady Rhiannon smiled as she leaned her cheek against his leather doublet. She inhaled his scent and it soothed her.
"Yes, my love. Finally, you shall be my Lady Nottingham. Now, I want you to understand something." The Sheriff began.
"What is it?" She asked as she looked up at him.
"My beautiful lady, I desire you all of the time. If I had it my way, we would never leave the bedchamber!" He exclaimed.
She felt her cheeks flush and grinned at him.
"But now I am forced to think not of myself – for once." He sighed. "It is damn near killing me to keep turning you down, my lady. I did it for our child." The Sheriff said.
"My prince, everything was fine when you returned from Portsmouth, remember?" Rhiannon pointed out as she kissed his cheek.
"I know, but I kept remembering what happened to you the week before that, after I –"
"George, you must stop this! Nothing happened. We've talked about this! Nobody is to blame for that and our child is healthy. He is strong. He is your child after all!" Lady Rhiannon exclaimed.
"Or – she." The Sheriff pointed out. "Our child could be a little girl, my love. I think you keep forgetting that. Though, God help me if our daughter is exactly like you. I'm not sure I can handle two of you!" The Sheriff teased as he nuzzled into her neck and tickled her skin with his whiskers.
"You're the Sheriff of Nottingham, lover. You can handle anything!" Rhiannon grinned.
"I can always handle you, beautiful lady!" He laughed. The Sheriff held her face in his hands and leaned down to her and kissed her softly. "It will all come together, Rhiannon. You'll see." He whispered.
You'll see very soon. Very soon, my lovely, bride to be - you shall see your son.
A/N: Things are beginning to really heat up in Nottingham, if you'll pardon the pun. How long will Celestria be able to keep up with this act of hers? Will the Sheriff be successful at keeping his lady from encountering harm? There shall be lots of excitement in store, though the story is drawing near to the end.
Just so the readers are aware, that is not a misspelling on 'just deserts'. The phrase 'getting his/her just deserts' refers to someone getting what they deserve - whether it is good or bad. The phrase actually was coined in the thirteenth century but since it's close enough to that century in this story, and it was the best phrase I could think of for this lovely, Lady Gunilda to say to Celestria, I decided to use it here. Indeed, it is pronounced differently than we're used to seeing with this spelling, but the meaning is referring to what one justly deserves.
Thanks so much for reading!
~Donna~