Marian.

His voice was soft now. Hed bridged the distance between them in an instant, and he was kneeling beside her.

Are you hurt? he asked.

Her eyes lifted to meet his, and a quiver of a smile flickered across her lips.

Now why would a monster care if I were hurt? she asked him.

He sighed heavily, and sat back on his haunches, staring at the ground. He shook his head.

You should go, he said.

There was a gust of wind, and a flutter, and suddenly Marian was alone. She gasped and looked around her, but Gisborne was gone.

What the she muttered. Guy? Guy!

There was no response. She grunted as the discomfort spread through her chest when she rose to her feet. The wound throbbed viciously and took her breath. She tried to call after him again, but she only coughed and had to lean against the wall to steady herself.

Guy she said weakly, but it was no use, and she knew it.

She had no choice but to take the long walk back to the cottage in the dark, frigid night. The guards let her out the front gate, and she limped slowly along the lane. At moments, she was certain she heard a noise behind her, but every time she turned to look, there was nothing there but the road and the moonlight.

As she walked, her mood changed. She began to feel confused, then upset, and then angry.

Why would he be so cold to her when she only wanted to help him? He left her to walk home alone in the cold, in the night, without so much as an escort. Hed spoken to her so harshly. Was she wrong about him?

By the time she reached the cottage, she was so upset that she tore off Gisbornes cloak and threw it into a chest.

She was done trying to help him.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN.

KNOCK-KNOCK-KNOCK!.

Marian gently placed her bowl of stew on the table and padded across the floor. Upon opening the door, a gust of frigid wind swept into the room, and her teeth began to chatter.

Marian, may I enter? Gisborne asked.

For a moment, she paused, hesitant. Then curiosity got the better of her.

Of course. Come in.

Gisborne stepped across the threshold and removed his hat. Marian quickly closed the door, but the heat in the room was already gone. She took the cloak Robin had given her from its hook by the door and wrapped it around her shivering body.

I see you are wearing his cloak and not mine, Gisborne commented.

What do you want, Guy?

Marian, there is something Ive come to ask you, and I do hope you will at least consider it before you offer a rejection, he said.

Alright, go on.

He bent his knee and sank to the floor. Taking her hand carefully between his own, his icy eyes turned upward and he spoke.

Marian, I am truly sorry for my behavior last night.

She said nothing, but she didnt remove her hand from his.

Marian, I was waiting for the right time to do this to he paused, looking for the right words. I wanted to plan it. I wanted it to be right. But Spit it out, Guy, Marian said flatly.

Marry me.

Her lips parted, and her eyes darted back and forth across his face.

Guy, I...

Before you say anything, you should know that I do not intend to hold you to the betrothal Blackstock forced you into, he said. This is entirely your choice.

For one long, painful moment, she was speechless. Then a look of sorrow spread across her face.

Im sorry, Guy, but I cannot accept.

He dropped her hand and bowed his head, his chin touching his chest. He sat there, frozen, motionless, hunched on bended knee on the floor.

Guy... she touched his shoulder gently, but he recoiled.

Its because of him, isnt it? Gisborne spat contemptuously.

Robin has nothing to do with this, Guy. I...

Dont lie to me! he raged, his body tense, his face purple. I should have known. I SHOULD HAVE KNOWN!

Gisborne turned and twisted about the room as if looking for something. He s.n.a.t.c.hed a crock from the shelf nearby and hurled it at the wall. It shattered, and shards of it scattered across the cold, wooden floor. His arms swept across the surface of the table upon which many of their meager belongings were stored, sending them crashing to the floor with a great clatter that rattled Marian to the depths of her soul.

Guy! Stop! Marian shouted.

Leave this house at once! her father chastised from his chair as sternly as he could manage.

He gripped the edge of the table with an iron grasp, curling his fingers around it as his chest heaved wildly. With each breath, he snarled viciously. His body was shaking. With a great roar of agony, he flipped the table against the wall, and it broke into pieces and clattered to the floor.

Stop! she screamed, covering her face with her hands and sobbing.

Gisborne turned to face her, and upon seeing her hiding her face, he softened slightly. He stepped over to her and reached out to touch her arm, but she jerked away from him. His face grew cold again, his eyes narrowing to slits.

You would not draw away from him, Gisborne snapped, taking the edge of Robins cloak between his fingers and running the cloth between them.

Marian trembled, afraid to move away from him as he fingered the cloth. His hand curled around it, grasping a fistful. Marian whimpered as he yanked hard, the fabric tearing and the leaf-shaped clasp coming undone. Gisborne wadded the cloak into a ball and tossed it into the fireplace, and the room filled with choking black smoke.

There, Gisborne growled. Now maybe youll wear mine!

Get out! she screamed, stamping her foot and pointing toward the door. Leave my house and never return! Leave at once!

I will go, Marian, but this isnt over! Gisborne shouted.

Gisborne yanked the door open, sending another icy blast of air swirling into the room followed by a scattering of dry leaves. He slammed it behind him so forcefully that the thin walls of the cottage rattled and items on the wall shelf overturned and slid onto the floor.

Marian turned slowly about, surveying the damage. Broken pieces of crockery and wood littered the floor. She coughed and her eyes watered from the black smoke that coiled about the room, and she watched the remains of Robins gift smoldering on the hearth.

I hate him, she muttered. I HATE HIM!

Thank goodness, he father mumbled. Maybe youve finally broken free over whatever evil enchantment he put on you!

Marian s.n.a.t.c.hed the broom from the corner and began to sweep the floor. She would never speak to him again. She would die first.

The pre-dawn air was so frigid it chilled her to the core, sending burning-cold tendrils down her lungs with every breath. Despite this, she wore only her thin, threadbare shawl, refusing to touch Gisbornes cloaks that were languishing in her chest.

Lets hope I still have a job, she muttered as her teeth rattled together on her way to the castle.

By the time she entered the steaming-hot kitchen, her toes were numb. In the heat, they began to burn and throb painfully.

Good Lord, girl! Mirabelle gasped, noting the blue tinge of her lips and fingers. What happened to your cloaks?

Lord Gisborne took it upon himself to burn one, and the others I refuse to touch! she said, not caring whether or not word got back to him that she was sharing their personal affairs with other servants.

Mirabelle clucked her tongue and shook her head.

Pride goeth before a fall, Mirabelle said. And if you dont suck in your pride and wear a cloak, you may just fall face down in the snow!

Oh, no, dont tell me its going to snow! Marian groaned.

It certainly smells like it, Mirabelle said. Id bet its going to start by noon.

Lovely, Marian commented.

Get to work, Mirabelle said. Thatll warm you up faster than anything else. Start with the chambers and then do the study.

Yes, Miss, Marian said.

Her muscles were wracked with tension as she crept down the chilly castle corridors, and her wound still ached. But she had to work. At least she hadnt been fired or arrested upon arrival.

She knocked on Gisbornes door with a lump in her throat, and she exhaled a breath she didnt realize she was holding when no answer was forthcoming. She pushed the door open.

The room was as hed left it, but no fire burned in the hearth. Just being in the room made her feel ill, so she quickly cleaned it and moved on.

Now there was nothing but he study left to clean. She supposed Gisborne would be there waiting, having not been in any of the chambers. Her hand hovered in the air, but she found herself unable to knock. She took a deep, cleansing breath and tried again, but her hand refused to touch the door.

He aint in there, Miss, someone whispered.

Marian turned around to see one of the scullery maids standing behind her with a covered pot in her hands.

Are you certain? Marian asked quietly.

Yes, Miss, she answered. He left before dawn this morning, and we aint seen him since.

Thank you, Marian said, and the young girl nodded and continued down the corridor.

Marian knocked, and receiving no response, she hurried inside, cleaned the room rapidly, and left before Gisborne had a chance to show up.

You all done? Mirabelle asked.

Yes, Miss, Marian said. Im eager to get home before it gets dark and the temperature drops further.

Go then, Mirabelle said. And for heavens sake, girl, swallow your pride and wear a cloak tomorrow!

Marian nodded, but she had no intention of doing so.

The ground in the courtyard was already blanketed in a light dusting of snow, with tiny slivers of green and yellow gra.s.s peeking out hither and thither. Her thin shoes sank into the snow, which tumbled in over the top of her shoes and melted. Her toes were numb before she even made it out of the courtyard.

She ran all the way home, desperate for the warmth the exercise provided. She slid through the front gate and slammed against the door of the cottage, breathless and exhausted.

When she opened the door, she noticed the room was as cold as it had been outside. The fire in the hearth had long since faded away, and her father lay motionless in his chair.

Father! she gasped. Why did you let the fire go out? Are you not well?

She swept the hearth clean and kneeled down to place more logs in it. She noted her fathers silence, and she abandoned her fire making to check on him. She bent over him and shook him gently. His blanket fell away, and Marian felt an intense agony grasp her throat, choking the air from her lungs.

FATHER! she shrieked.

She staggered back, clasping her hand over her mouth and stumbling into the fireplace. Her other hand flattened against the rough stone, and her eyes began to sting fiercely.

Her darling father, the man shed spent her whole life caring for and protecting, lay white as snow with a ma.s.sive gash across his throat and blood seeping into his clothing and his blankets. His eyes were open wide with fright, and his mouth hung open. His head lolled to the side at a sickening angle.

No... she whispered. No... NO!

She tore out of the cottage and down the lane as fast as her legs would carry her. Once in the village, she veered down the tiny path toward the small church and burst through the door.

Father Michaels! she screamed, tears streaking her pink-tinged face. Father!

Father Michaels has gone away on Church business, said a voice behind her.