The Archer (The Blood Realm Series Book 3) (11 page)

Unable to bear the thought of what might be next in her little performance, he jerked at her waist, forcing her upper body away from Ermentrude with such force her palms slammed into his chest as she scrambled to keep from colliding with him. Her fingers dug in with bruising force, feeding his imagination with all manner of delicious scenarios. He dipped her abruptly and she scrabbled at his biceps to hold on, to keep herself from tipping back onto the paving stones. Her playful little smirk that had teased her mouth flew away on a gasp, the sound honest and teasingly breathless. Wicked thoughts swarmed him and it was all he could do to keep himself from flinging her to the ground and following her body with his own.

“Fear not about discovery, fair Marian.” His voice was desire-roughened, his hold on more carnal urges strained by the way her chest rose and fell with her labored breathing. “Secrets only have power in the dark. Once they are dragged into the light of day, they are but the conversation of a single tea sitting.” He flexed his fingers against her body, appreciating the strength in her supple muscles, the sleek sinews that sloped against his palms. “Let’s not let the fear of being revealed get between us.”

Marian paled, blood draining from her face like water from a broken tub, extinguishing the fire in her eyes. Her lips moved, but no sound came out.

Robin’s brow furrowed. He’d expected annoyance, anger, perhaps even an intensification of the little show she’d been putting on. This blatant fear was…unexpected.

And very interesting.

Quickly, he ran over what he’d just said, searching for the words that inspired such a reaction. “Do you have a secret you wish to tell me?”

Bit by bit, Marian twisted and molded her features, shutting out the fear that had shone from her eyes, wrenching her parted lips into a smile that looked physically excruciating. “Oh, but I can’t tell you my secrets yet. A woman needs her mystique.” She wrapped her arms around his neck, toying with his hair in a manner that suggested she spent less time flirting and more time skinning animals. “Can’t have you losing interest in me.”

Her dedication to her ploy—poorly executed as it was—was admirable. Since it seemed unlikely she would confess her true intentions in front of their audience, Robin made a mental note to return to his investigation and then allowed her to shift the conversation
.

“Oh, but I could never lose interest in you, Marian. Your beauty is but a hint of what you have to offer, and I am
so
looking forward to seeing what’s underneath.”

Her hand twitched, fingers tightening as she curled them into a fist.
No doubt fighting the urge to rearrange my arrestingly handsome face.
Her inner turmoil, once again painted for the world to see in the deep lines around her eyes and the way her lips paled as she pressed them together, made her far too tempting a target. Unable to resist pushing her a little further, he pulled her against his chest and sealed his mouth over hers for the second time that morning.

He kissed the false smile from her lips, teased her mouth with his until they fit perfectly together and he could taste fury on her breath like the perfume of a finely aged wine. Her nails dug into his biceps, threatening to draw blood. The sharp bite of pain lent the kiss an edge that turned his nerves to flames, his blood to molten lava. The restraint he’d shown earlier burnt to ash and fell away. Teasing forgotten, he deepened the kiss with a groan, opened his mouth against her lips, forcing her to do the same. He swallowed the sound that rose in her throat, a combination of a sigh and a snarl, and slid his tongue past her lips to taste her more fully.

“I say, Lady Marian!”

Ermentrude’s braying voice tore Robin from the pleasant haze holding him in its embrace. It was a most unpleasant awakening not unlike what he imagined a fish must feel when an iron hook ripped it from its cozy pond to die a slow death in the fresh air. He broke the kiss with a growl ready on his lips, energy crackling over him as his temper flared. Ermentrude met his glare with a squint and pointed her recovered spade at something over his shoulder.

He followed the gesture, vaguely aware a dazed Marian was doing the same, and found a young stable hand openly gaping at the scene he’d unwittingly stumbled upon. He wore a tan and brown plaid shirt that had been buttoned up wrong and hung haphazardly on his lean frame, and rough wool breeches the same shade of brown as the stripes in his shirt. His boots were caked with mud and straw so it appeared as though he’d fashioned slippers from wild hedgehogs.

The boy’s eyes were wide, his body so still he might have been frozen in time. Only the racing of his pulse and the faint sheen of sweat on his brow gave away his panic at having interrupted what a boy his age could deduce was something he’d not been meant to see. He held the reins of two Scythian draught horses, one a dapple grey with a pale cream-colored mane and tail and the other a warm bay with ebony locks. Each was saddled and ready to be ridden.

Robin gracefully swung Marian up to her feet, holding her until she was steady—which he was pleased to note took a moment or so. Of course, there was a slim chance that her disorientation had more to do with fury than passion, but either way she looked radiant. Her eyes glittered and her cheeks held a most becoming red flush that no amount of pinching could have attained.

“Ah, it seems we are ready to go.” He craned his head toward Marian. “I guess our little tête-à-tête in the garden will have to wait.”

Marian bared her teeth, eyes burning green flames. “I do hope it won’t have to wait long.”

Robin’s eyebrows rose and he took a judicious step back, giving Marian a wider berth for her march to the horses. She chose the bay, planting her foot in the stirrup and swinging herself onto its back with practiced ease. The bay grunted and sidestepped, betraying the unnecessary force of Marian’s seating and shook its head in equine reprimand.

Marian’s nose wrinkled as she smacked at her skirts, tugging on them this way and that. The petticoats beneath the dress resisted her urges to smooth them out, seeming to only fluff up more as she fought with them. Her lip curled in disgust, but when she noticed Robin watching her, she composed herself and shot him a smile as bright and piercing as a beam of sunlight off an assassin’s signal mirror. “I won’t be long, if you’d like to wait—”

A few running steps launched Robin forward and he leapt onto the horse’s back from behind, using his hands on its muscled rump to give him the height he needed to land in the saddle. The dapple grey swung its head around, ears flattened, to give Robin a distinctly irritated look. Robin gave the beast a semi-apologetic shrug and grinned at a glowering Marian.

Again, he watched her realize she was making an unpleasant face and shuffle her features into what he was increasingly certain she meant to be a coquettish smile, but was actually quite a frightening look somewhere between malice and I’ve-just-swallowed-a-bug. A shiver trembled down his spine and he couldn’t help but reflect that perhaps the secret he was now positive she held was something he should be wary of.

Mentally, he started making a list of what her biological heritage might be, adding a temper to the list of likely characteristics that, up until now, had been limited to keen senses and a desire for the hunt.

The stable boy watched them leave without making a sound, his eyes still a little too wide. Marian ignored him, guiding her horse down the long path that would lead them off her property, through the path in the forest, and out into the heart of the county where the sheriff would be waiting for her in the courthouse. Robin caught up to her, the dapple grey responding easily to his urging despite its continued annoyance as evidenced by the ears still pressed against its head. He opened his mouth to ask Marian how she planned to proceed with the sheriff, but was cut off when she turned that half-mad smile on him again.

“I’m not sure if you’ve heard, but Catherine O’Hara has been seen prancing about town with Drake Gilley. It’s causing quite a stir, what with Drake being—”

“What drew your foster parents into the woods the night they found you?”

Marian snapped her mouth shut, nearly cutting her tongue off with her teeth. “Excuse me?”

“Your foster parents. They found you in the woods, at night. I doubt they were just out for a stroll, so something must have called them out there. What was it?”

“How should I know?” She fixed her eyes on the road ahead, her back so stiff she nearly vibrated with the tension. “What sort of question is that to ask anyway?”

Her words were harsh, but her face had gone pale as sea foam and her knuckles were mottled white and red where they’d tightened to a crushing grip on the reins. Robin ran a hand over his neck, tilting his head to study her more closely. “I’m sorry. I fully intended to play your little game and let you prattle on about gossip I suspect you worked very hard to memorize in a short time. And I admit I was looking forward to seeing how far you would have taken that little tête-à-tête in the garden. But the ride to the courthouse will take some time, and there are conversations that would help it pass so much quicker.”

“Little game?”

Robin offered her a rueful smile. “You’re frightfully bad at it, you know. Your flirting is far too exaggerated, and you talk of gossip like you’re reciting from a poetry book you were forced to memorize.” He tapped his forehead between his eyebrows. “You get a deep line right here every time. Gossip should never require that much concentration, that’s part of what makes it so fun.” He dropped his hand to the saddle horn, holding on as he leaned closer to her. “It’s all right though. It’s just one of the downfalls of being a sensible person. You don’t care about gossip, I doubt you’ve ever had to pursue a man, and I’d wager you’d rather burn all those petticoats than wear them.”

For a moment, she looked like she was going to argue. She pressed her mouth into a thin line, sucking in a deep breath through her nose. Her narrowed eyes promised retribution, green orbs shining like twin forest pools. Then her shoulders slumped.

“I’ve never worn so much clothing in all my life.” She hiked up her dress to give a glimpse of what looked to be at least seven layers of white lace and linen. “This many layers cannot be necessary. I feel like a wedding cake.”

Robin chuckled. “Would you like to stop and free yourself from some of them?”

He’d meant it as a slightly suggestive joke, but Marian tugged sharply on her reins, dragging her horse to an abrupt stop. Before he could say another word, she’d dismounted, obviously intending to take his intended jest for truth. He stared in unfettered amusement as she threw him her horse’s reins and stalked to a large grouping of trees that would provide her with more privacy than he would have liked. Skirts and petticoats flew, giving him a glimpse of the plentiful material on either side of the center tree as she undressed and redressed behind the thick trunk. When she finally emerged, her dress lay much closer to her legs, the material itself seeming relieved at being able to relax without the stringent support of all the petticoats. He noticed she didn’t bring the discarded material with her.

“It’s going to be a confused hunter that finds your petticoats.”

Marian didn’t crack a smile, but some of the tension seemed to have melted from her shoulders now that she was dressed more comfortably. She remounted her horse, calmly accepting the reins when he handed them back to her.

“Well, I’m certainly not going to carry them into town with me, now am I?”

That mental image brought a fresh smile to Robin’s face, but before he could comment on it, Marian spoke again.

“I’ve been insulting, I know.”

Robin frowned at her disheartened tone, disturbed to find her face resigned, her fingers idly toying with the reins. “You have been, yes. But there’s no need to apologize. I find you quite engaging when you’re insulting me.”

She snorted. “Of course you do. It’s all part of the game for you, isn’t it? Get a rise out of me, follow me around, make a general nuisance of yourself at my expense.”

“Is this a continuation of your apology, or will you be making a fresh one for this new round of insults?”

Green eyes slanted a glare at him, but it died as quickly as it had risen. She closed her eyes and shook her head. “I’m grateful for the loan, for your help. It’s just… I want to be alone. It’s all I’ve ever wanted. I don’t want to work in the gardens with the others, I don’t want to marry, I don’t want to socialize at all. I want to be by myself, left in peace.” She wrapped a hand around the saddle horn, squeezing it as if it represented some unfortunate’s throat. “Everyone is constantly trying to force me into a role I don’t want, but no one has done so with the infuriating persistence that you’ve shown in the last twenty-four hours.”

She looked at him, green orbs beseeching now. “I know what you’re thinking. You’re thinking of the kisses we’ve shared, and you’re telling yourself that I enjoyed them, that that must mean I want your company, want to continue…” She waved a hand in the air, frustration drawing her brows together. “But that’s not true. You must believe me that it’s not true. You and your kisses are no different than…than chocolate cake. I would never ask for chocolate cake, or go out looking for it, but I still find that when it’s placed in front of me, I eat it, and I enjoy it. If anything, I’d like people to stop offering me chocolate cake so I could avoid the unnecessary sweets entirely.”

Robin blinked. “You are comparing me to chocolate cake?”

“In a very limited way.”

“Well, thank you. I understand that to be quite a compliment from a woman.” He waited for a smile, but all he received was the slightest upturn in the corner of her mouth. He drummed his fingers on the saddle horn, turning everything over in his mind. She was right about what he’d been thinking. Her sincerity when she’d told him it wasn’t so was quite…disheartening.

“After my
eric
has been paid, will you leave?”

Again, her voice held no anger, no emotion of any kind. No hope. Robin shifted in his saddle, increasingly uncomfortable with this new Marian. He desperately wanted to know what her secret was. But she seemed so genuinely upset about his continued presence. He’d never meant to upset her. Annoy her, certainly, she was quite beautiful when she was annoyed, quite passionate, but his attention to her had never been malicious. Could he leave her, go back to his routine in the forest, robbing the same sort of stuffed shirts over and over, getting the same long speech of thanks from the poor he relocated the money to? Could he forget about the witch’s promise that Marian would prove interesting enough to keep him home on his island, keep him from going off in search of amusement?