dwindling—true, they were a bit damp with sweat, and somehow she’d tracked the hems through the filth she’d been scrubbing, but Will had been wearing the same clothes since his arrest that first day in Locksley, and they were little better than rags.
“But this is a dress,” Will protested.
Marian’s patience snapped. “It’s as well you don’t grow a very convincing beard yet.”
“But . . .” Will shifted his weight uncomfortably.
Marian sighed. “It’s a disguise, Will. You can wear a dress, or you can stay here. See how far you get in your tunic and trousers and rags before the guards kill you.”
In the end, he didn’t make a very convincing woman. True, his whiskers were fair and not very thick, but they were visible—and his shoulders were too broad, his hips too narrow. And he was scowling, face flaming, humiliation leaking from his every pore. Marian bit her lip hard to keep from laughing. She tucked the fabric up here and there, padding the hips, and pulled the cap down to shade his too-thick eyebrows.
“Keep your head down,” she suggested finally, reminding herself that the guard hadn’t so much as noticed her, much less inspected her, on her way in. “When you leave, put the basket on your hip, like so.” She demonstrated, and added, “No, thrust your hip out, like—well, yes, sort of. That’s close enough.”
“They’ll take one look at me and know,” Will protested, trying again to jut his hip out, and nearly losing his balance in the process.
“They won’t look at you at all unless you give them a reason. Take a few breaths, and then go on out. I’ll be right behind you if anything happens. There’s a stair not far from here down the corridor. Go up and use the first door you come to—that will take you to the stables. Do not steal a horse—walk through like you’re meant to be there. The pasture gate is always open during the day. Leave that way, hop the fence, and then—”
“Then I’m in Sherwood,” Will finished. He turned toward the exit but hesitated. “How will you get out?”
Marian hid a smile. “Through the door. With the guard. I’m a noblewoman. He won’t question me—he can’t.”
“Gisborne can.” Will’s face was grim, and Marian could not help but wonder what the Sheriff’s man had done to him in captivity.
“Gisborne’s gone. He’s out chasing Robin—in the hollow you described to me yesterday.”
Will was moving toward the exit again, but he stopped dead when she spoke, his flushed features going white. “The—the place I described? Marian, I thought that was a ruse, something you’d be using to get Gisborne on your side, I didn’t think he’d actually . . .”
Marian blinked, trying to ignore the rising sense of wrongness, the infectious nature of Will’s sudden fear. “Why? What is that place?”
“It’s where Al—damn it. Friends of mine camp there, down in the hollow, because the light from their fire is shielded in the rocky canyon.” Will swore again, dropping the basket.
Marian went cold. “Alan and John,” she whispered. “Will—you told Gisborne where Alan and John are hiding?”
“You told him!” Will protested. “You had me—” He broke off, covering his face with his hand. “I’m sorry,” he said finally. “Marian—thank you. You freed me. But I’ve got to go after them. Warn them, if it’s not too late.” He was so agitated, he didn’t even think it strange she knew his cohorts by name.
Marian tried to imagine Will, half-starved, disoriented by the sudden daylight, in a tattered dress, weaponless and on foot, saving Alan and Little John from a dozen of Gisborne’s best men. “Will, no. You need to hide, recover your strength. Get out of England if you can—I can get you some money for passage—”
“While Little John and Alan hang?” Will’s face was like a sky threatening to burst with rain.
“I’ll handle it,” Marian said, keeping her voice low and tight.
Will stopped his urgent pacing and looked back at her. “My Lady—”
“Shut up,” she snapped. If the guard had come in while she was picking the lock, she might’ve been able to talk her way out somehow. But there was no help for them if he walked in while they wasted time arguing. “I got in here, I got you out—”
“But you’re only one woman, and they’re—”
“I’ll get Robin to go!” she blurted.
Will took a step back, some of his agitation fading. “Robin?” He swallowed hard. “Then . . . then it was him, that night in the woods?”
Marian