is like your Robin? Who was by any account an honorable, loyal, devoted Lord? It’s like comparing your mother to a—” But there his better sense stopped him, and his lips went thinner still as they pressed together.
Marian’s own lips felt tight, anger rising to flush away her weariness. “Robin was a good man. He would not have let his people suffer the way Gisborne’s prepared to do.”
“The way I’m doing?” her father retorted, eyes dark.
Marian’s jaw clenched. “I cannot accuse anyone of negligence who obeys the law,” she said thickly. “But neither can I condemn someone who defies a law that is unjust.”
“And who decides what laws are just?” her father exclaimed. “This unknown brigand who holds my daughter hostage in exchange for a cart of wheat?”
Marian surged to her feet, pacing away from her father. She gazed out the window again at the unrelenting gray scene. There were still tears in her eyes, but she could no longer tell whether they were of grief or passion or anger or sheer exhaustion. “Robin would have understood.”
“Robin would have ridden out on that cart beside Gisborne. And would not have rested until this man was hanged.”
She’d left the warmth of the fire, and she pulled her wrap more tightly about her shoulders. “Maybe you didn’t know him as you thought you did.”
“Maybe you didn’t.” Her father’s voice was quick and sharp, and when Marian looked over at him in astonishment, his face was grave. This time, there was no remorse there for his harshness, no regret over a hastily inflicted hurt. “Marian, my darling—are you certain you’re remembering Robin as he truly was, in life, and not as you imagined him to be?”
Marian’s cheeks were hot despite the chill settling back in around her. “Robin was good, and kind, and he never would have—”
“He was good.” Her father got to his feet and crossed over to the window so that he could take her hands. Marian had not realized she’d balled them into fists until his fingers smoothed them out. “But he was reserved, and careful, and loyal to the crown.”
“Yes, when the crown was—”
“Robin didn’t want to fight in the King’s crusade,” her father interrupted.
Marian felt as though she might fall, were he not holding her by the hands. “No one wants to fight a war . . . but he was eager to . . .” She trailed off, because her father was shaking his head.
“Loyalty sent him there,” he said grimly. “Loyalty to the crown, not to the cause. Can you see him defying that same crown now, for this? There are other ways to change this land and its laws.”
Marian could not speak. Her throat, already inflamed and aching, felt as though it had swollen shut. Her hands in her father’s shook. I know Robin, she thought fiercely. I knew him then and I know him still.
Softly, no stronger than a whisper, Robin’s voice said, Are you sure?
“Robin was a good man,” her father repeated. “But this man, this outlaw, is nothing like him. Radical and insurgent and impatient.” He paused, and when he went on, his voice was a shade warmer, and he squeezed her hands. “Those qualities sound more like you, my love.”
Marian’s voice was still choked. “Qualities you despise . . . so much.”
Her father’s eyes shone, and he gathered her close, his warmth enclosing her in a way the brash heat of the fire couldn’t. “Oh, Marian. I love you for those qualities and so many more. I love you and I’m terrified of you.”
Marian could only return his embrace, twisting her fingers in the fabric of his tunic as she’d done as a child woken by nightmares or crying from skinned knees. Her cheek rested against his shoulder, her face turned away toward the window. She sniffled, and he tightened his grip.
“We can never tell anyone that you sought this man out,” her father said gently into her hair. “Not even our closest friends. And I know you long to do something—your blood compels it of you. You will always be Lady of Edwinstowe and Locksley both, always care for the people of both estates. But promise me, daughter, that you will not speak to Robin Hood again. Come to me if you find yourself tempted.”
Marian nodded against his shoulder, forced to pause, drawing in a shaking breath before she could speak. There are other ways to change this land, her father had said. His days here at Nottingham were endless