Alan glanced over at Marian, and for a moment she felt like the two lives she was leading were slamming together, with her caught between them. “Robin?”
It was impossible to see Will’s expression from where she was, in that darkness, but he shifted his weight uncomfortably. Marian had only time enough to realize that the truth—that his rescuer was a woman—would embarrass him, and to feel a stab of conflicted sympathy and irritation, before he blurted, “It was Lady Marian.”
Surprise struck them dumb for a several breaths. Then both Alan and Little John broke into a laugh.
Will dropped into a crouch, letting Marian see some of his features. Then he scowled up at the others. “You wouldn’t laugh if you’d seen her do it.”
Alan shook his head. “I’m not laughing at you,” he said. “Or at her. I’m just—what a pair you two make, taking directions from a noblewoman!” This last was directed at Marian.
Will looked over at her, seeing her as if for the first time. “Your Lady has my thanks.”
“She got me a message,” Marian said stiffly. “Telling me where to find Alan and Little John, thanks to you.”
“Thanks to me,” Will echoed sourly, a shadow crossing his features. His eyes fell on John’s bruised features, and his expression grew longer.
Pity lapped at Marian’s heart. His guilt was as unmistakable as if he had shouted it aloud. “If you hadn’t gotten Gisborne out of Nottingham Castle today,” she offered, “Marian wouldn’t have been able to help you escape.”
“It’s worth a few bruises to see you free, lad,” John added kindly.
Marian could not help but think of her father, probably at table for supper even now. Would he be afraid for her? If they were home in Edwinstowe, it would not be strange for her to lose track of the time and be late returning to the house. But in Nottingham . . . there were people everywhere, noble and peasant alike, and they’d all notice how long she’d been gone.
She could say she’d been thrown from Jonquille’s saddle and struck her head, and had been too disoriented to make her way back to the castle until morning. But even a cursory inspection of her head would show no bruise, and her apparent incompetence would give Gisborne all the reason he needed to curtail her freedoms when it came to leaving Nottingham.
The mental leap required for Gisborne to realize Marian could actually be the man he sought was massive, but it’d take only a tiny step for him to believe she might be helping Robin of the Hood. He already suspected she sympathized with him. And only an idiot—which, for all his faults, Gisborne was not—would fail to find suspicion in her unexplained absences.
“Why so pensive, Robin?” Alan’s voice cut through her turbulent thoughts, as their attention shifted back from Will.
Marian looked up, scanning the faces of the men around her. “I’m trying to think of my next step,” she said truthfully.
“Toward what end?” Alan asked.
“Ensuring no one else takes the blame for my actions. Particularly the three of you.” She straightened. “You must leave Nottingham, leave England if you can. All of you.”
She’d expected protest, particularly from Alan and Will, neither of whom would want to be parted from Elena. But she hadn’t expected the loudest protest to come from Little John.
“To hell with that,” he rumbled, in what passed for him as a low voice. It drowned out the others, though, and made Marian’s bruised ribs ache.
She frowned, clenching her jaw. “I’m serious. Gisborne will believe you’re all working with me, and that paints a target on all of you.”
Alan broke in. “You saved our skins. None of us is going to forget that.”
“Your skins wouldn’t have needed saving if it weren’t for me,” Marian shot back.
“Will’s did. He’d have hanged if they hadn’t wanted to interrogate him. And you—well, your Lady—got him out.”
Unable to sit still any longer, Marian ignored the pain in her abdomen and began to pace. Night had fallen, and the others were smart enough not to risk a fire in case Gisborne had left patrols to search for them. The canopy overhead wasn’t particularly dense here, but charcoal-gray clouds hid the moon. The temperature was falling rapidly, and the movement warmed her aching body. “I can’t keep coming to rescue you,” she said finally. She knew the words would cut, but just now, she didn’t care. Let them resent her—they’d be