Gisbornes eyes closed briefly, and he exhaled. A smile played upon his lips, and he bowed his head solemnly.

Thank you, he said sincerely. You will not regret it. And youll still allow me to escort you to the dance on Sat.u.r.day evening?

Of course, she replied.

He glanced at the sky, which was just beginning to lighten. His lips opened to speak, but Marian stopped him.

Go, she said. Get home before the sun rises.

He nodded, and the two of them turned around and headed back to the cottage.

Are you working today? he asked.

I must.

Then the carriage will drive you so you wont be late, he said as he mounted his horse. Thank you.

She nodded politely, and he turned his horse, clucked his tongue, and rode toward the castle as the sun began to peek slightly above the trees in the distance.

Father, Im going to work, she said. Ill have someone repair the door this evening. Until then, Ill hang a blanket to keep out the cold.

He got to you, didnt he? her father groaned disapprovingly, noticing the cloak dangling from her shoulders.

She glanced down at it, not having realized she was still wearing it.

Oh, dear, she said. No, he didnt get to me, Father. Robin has a plan for him, and in order to make it happen, I need to get Gisborne to the right place at the right time. If Im not here, Robin will lose his opportunity.

There will be other opportunities, Marian.

Not like this one. And how many more will have to die at Gisbornes hands in the mean time?

Suns almost up, her father said gruffly. Youd better go.

She hung the blanket over the door and added more wood to the fire. Kissing her father on the forehead, she made her way out to the carriage and told the driver to take her to the castle as quickly as possible.

Once there, she scurried into the kitchen looking disheveled. Mirabelle eyed her curiously up and down.

Another new cloak? Mirabelle commented.

Oh, dear, I forgot about it again, Marian groaned, removing it and hanging it on a hook in the servants closet.

Is that Lord Gisbornes cloak? Mirabelle asked.

It is.

Well, well, Mirabelle grinned. I suppose the weddings on, then?

Absolutely not! Marian countered.

Youre not thinking of trying to turn him down, are you? Mirabelle asked in a warning tone.

I most certainly am, Marian said. If he thinks I will marry him, hes crazy.

Its your funeral, Mirabelle commented with a shrug.

What is my job this morning? Marian asked, ignoring Mirabelles comment.

Start with Lord Blackstocks study.

B-but... cant someone else...

Move it, girl! Mirabelle shouted. I havent got all day.

Yes, Miss, Marian said quickly.

As she stood outside the study, her fingers trembled. She had hoped she would never have to face that room again, but now she was facing it again already. She lifted her hand to knock, but lowered it again.

Marian?

She twirled around, her heart racing, nearly dropping her bucket.

Oh, Guy! she breathed, relieved. I mean... Lord Gisborne.

I thought perhaps you might feel more comfortable with an escort, he said.

I would, she admitted. Thank you, my Lord.

Gisborne threw open the door and stepped aside, waving his hand toward the entrance. She entered the room, pleased to see that Blackstock was nowhere to be seen.

Gisborne closed the door behind them, and Marian immediately went to work, eager to get out of that room as quickly as possible. She dusted the shelves, wiped his desk, and began to scrub the floor.

Gisborne, whod been standing at attention near the door, slid down the wall and sat on the cold floor with one knee up, his arm dangling across it. His dark hair fell around his face, hiding his emotions.

Marian, might I ask you a question?

Of course, my Lord.

Do you think... that is... I mean to say... would it ever be possible...

What is it, Lord Gisborne?

Do you think that there is even the remotest possibly that you would ever willingly marry me?

She stopped scrubbing, frozen and staring down at her brush. She glanced up at him, and he was eyeing some unseen spot on the floor across the room.

I would not rule out any possibility, she said, continuing her scrubbing.

Thats quite a long way away from calling me a monster and telling me you despise me, he noted.

That it is, she said.

Thats progress.

Indeed.

Marian.

Yes, my Lord?

I told you once I wished to marry you simply to have a wife to care for my manor.

Yes.

That was... a lie.

She stopped scrubbing again. She lifted her head to look at him, blowing an errant strand of hair out of her eye.

Was it?

The truth is, it would not be altogether unpleasant to have you by my side in life.

I see.

She went back to scrubbing.

Gisborne was silent and contemplative. He continued to stare into the distance until she finished her work, and then he escorted her back to the kitchen to receive her next instructions from Mirabelle.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN.

The day of the festival had come at last. Marian was one of the few castle servants who had the day off, and she took the opportunity to lie in bed until well after the sun had risen, enjoying the lazy morning despite what she knew was coming in the evening.

Shed been squirreling away food for weeks, and now the shelves of the tiny cottage were full of delicious treats she could take to the festival. Ordinarily, such treats would be purchased by the villagers and the proceeds donated to the church, but in lieu of the extreme poverty which the village indeed the entire country was facing, everyone would be free to taste the tempting delicacies at their leisure. This was certain to be the merriest festival Locksley had ever known, as though they were spitting in the very faces of those who had created this poverty.

Marian quickly fed her chickens, gave her father breakfast, and gathered her treats in baskets. Some of the village women would soon be by to help her carry the baskets to the village to be placed on the long rows of wooden tables that would be erected for the festival.

The blanket that still covered the opening where their door had once stood fluttered, and a sharp breeze blew into the cottage, sending flames dancing in the fireplace and sparks scurrying dangerously close to her father. Marian shivered as the chill crept through her threadbare clothing.

In the distance, she could hear the rumble of hooves and the rattling creak of a carriage. The sound grew louder and louder until she pulled the blanket aside and watched in idle curiosity as a horse drawn carriage rolled to a stop outside the cottage, followed by a wagon driven by two rather surly looking men.

The two men dismounted the wagon and approached Marian. One bowed politely and said, Weve been sent to repair your door, milady. And the carriage awaits to carry you to the festival.

Lord Gisborne, I a.s.sume? she muttered.

Aye, milady, he answered. Well have your door fixed in no time.

Thank you, she said.

She hesitated to accept Gisbornes a.s.sistance, but what else could she do? Not only did she feel unable to turn it down, but by all rights the door was his responsibility to repair. After all, it was he who destroyed it in the first place.

She refrained from making any ill comments and simply gathered her baskets and placed them in the carriage. It would do no good to refuse his help, anyway, and these men were only following orders. Besides, she had no other way to get all this food to the festival for the villagers to enjoy.

The repair of the door took very little time, and Marian arrived at the festival before noon. Dozens of villagers had already arrived, and long tables had been a.s.sembled from bales of hay and sc.r.a.ps of lumber. Some were already filled with plates and bowls of food. Despite the desperate hunger dwelling within the eyes of the villagers, no one dared begin eating until the feast officially began.

It should have been Robin, Master of Locksley Manor, who began the proceedings, as he had every year before he left for the Crusades. And now that he was back, he was an outlaw. He couldnt risk being seen in the village. It was unlikely any of the villagers would turn him in. No. Theyd likely still be loyal to him. But if any of Blackstocks men saw him there, they whole village would be at risk. Blackstock would hang them all for harboring an outlaw.

In his absence, Marian had been the one who take over the task. Shed hoped Robin would be able to take over upon his return, but as an outlaw, it simply wasnt possible. So she would have to do as she had done for years.

The crowd had already gathered around the makeshift stage as Marian ascended the steps. Each year before, she had made a speech"something to give the villagers hope for the year to come. This year, she could see nothing but the eager faces, the hollow cheeks, the sunken eyes. Men, women, children"all starving.

There was little she could do to give these people hope. Robin wasnt coming home as she had promised all those times before. The king was not going to return and make everything better. There was no hope.

All she could do now was begin the ceremony so they could have one day of celebration to fill their bellies and forget their troubles. One day when everything was alright. And tomorrow, it wouldnt be alright again.

Everyone! Everyone! Thank you for coming! Marian shouted, and the chatter of the crowd began to hush. I know youre expecting a speech. Every year I give you one. But this year a lump caught in her throat and halted her speech momentarily, and she swallowed hard to clear it. This year I believe we all deserve to get right to the festivities. What say you? Shall we begin?

A great cheer rose from the crowd, and everyone quickly spread toward the tables, descending on the food a starving horde of smiling faces. Marian smiled as children grabbed handfuls of the delicate cakes shed worked so hard to make, and their parents had their fill of the stews and breads and cheeses brought by the villagers who all shared whatever they could spare.

The minstrels began to play a merry tune, and for one, beautiful, sweet day, the village was happy again. No tears, no hunger, no strife just pure, unadulterated joy.

But Marian could not enjoy the day, for she knew what awaited her when the sun began to set.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN.

The orange orb of the sun had sunk slowly behind the trees. Evening had come, and the time of dancing was upon them. The minstrels included Alan-a-Dale, Robins confidant, in disguise and standing by should trouble arise. Their voices and instruments rose through the night air and spread across the village, enchanting the revelers.

Marian stood by the great oak tree outside Locksley Manor. Her hands delicately fingered the edge of her shawl, and her hair fluttered lightly on the evening breeze.

You came.

His deep, gravelly voice surprised her, and she turned to face him. Gone was the horsehide armor Gisborne was so rarely seen without. He was dressed in black breeches and a black shirt with wide sleeves. He still wore a cloak, though this one was undoubtedly new, as his old one was still in Marians possession.

Of course, my Lord, she said.