to conceal Robin’s clothes—she couldn’t simply stuff them under the mattress, for the servants here would spot them easily while changing the bedclothes. Elena would be opening and closing the clothes chest to help her dress. The washstand was an oak frame only, no closed storage space beneath the basin. And the floor was stone, solid, no wooden boards or packed earth.
Her eyes went to the tapestries lining the walls, intended to ward off the autumn chill permeating the stone. After pressing her ear to her door, listening for approaching footsteps, Marian hurried to push the dressing stool over to a tapestry in the corner that depicted a genteel hunt, noblemen on rouncies and a lady riding a dainty palfrey, with a pair of dogs frolicking ahead of them.
She climbed up on top of the stool and pulled the tapestry back, peering up at the hanger to see if she could tuck the edge of Robin’s cloak into it and let it hang concealed between the tapestry and the wall. But instead of the iron rods in her father’s house and in Locksley Manor, the tapestry was bolted to the wall by means of iron nails drilled into the stone. One might be able to conceal something up there, but nothing so bulky as the woolen cloak.
A knock at the door made Marian jump and nearly fall off the stool. “I am unwell,” she called, unable to conceal her irritation. Hiding anything in this castle was going to be more complicated than she’d anticipated.
“I do not require much of your time, my Lady,” came a man’s voice, muffled by the thick oak of the door. Marian froze, for she recognized the voice.
“A moment, Sir Guy.” She dropped down from the stool and dove for the pile of Robin’s clothing by the bed. Hands shaking, she tried to stuff it all back into the saddlebag, but she couldn’t make the cloak fit without taking the time to fold and roll the cloth with care. She scanned the room again, feeling panic try to take hold as she searched for someplace to hide Robin’s things—this time she forced her fears down, and her eyes fell on the canopy bed. With an effort that left her arms aching, she flung the heavy wool up on top of the canopy. The canvas sagged under the weight of the cloak, but it held.
Marian smoothed her hair down, settled the fabric of her dress, and took a breath, willing the racing of her heart to calm as she went to the door.
Gisborne stood outside, wearing his customary black, and gave a stiff bow as Marian opened the door. “Forgive me for interrupting your rest, my Lady. One of the servants said you were ill.” He didn’t sound apologetic—if anything, he sounded irritated, as if visiting Marian were simply one on a long list of tasks keeping him preoccupied.
“I haven’t had a chance to rest yet,” Marian replied. Despite her best efforts, she sounded irritated too.
“I will be brief.” He made no effort to enter her room, to Marian’s relief. “I came to welcome you to Nottingham, and to ask if there was anything I could do to make your stay more comfortable.”
“Thank you, Sir Guy.” Marian hunted for a smile and pinned it in place. “I am very comfortable and have all I need.”
Gisborne nodded, clearly expecting to be sent away without a task. “Then let me say that I look forward to seeing you at dinner tonight.”
“And I you,” Marian replied. Then, curiosity rising before she could stop it: “You aren’t attending the Sheriff with the visiting nobles?”
Gisborne’s face twitched, the scar tissue on his cheek jumping. A minute shift, but there was so little to see in his cold, wooden expression that it read like a smoke signal of frustration. “I am not a nobleman, my Lady. Not yet.”
“I shouldn’t have asked. I apologize.” The Sheriff could invite Gisborne to participate, if only to observe—but evidently, he’d chosen not to.
“There is no need for apology.” Gisborne shifted his weight and glanced down the corridor, the obvious body language of a man who wished he was elsewhere. When he looked back, his gaze went past Marian’s shoulder. He frowned. “What were you doing, if I may ask?”
Marian’s heart leaped as she turned, half expecting to see a corner of green wool dangling from the canopy. But there was no sign of her hidden cache, and it took her a while to see what was amiss: