in the bow relax a little—she had time to draw it again should he move, and no one could hold it drawn indefinitely. “Do I recognize the lady I met that night in Nottingham Castle?”
Lord Owen’s fingers clenched and unclenched. “Only a coward sneaks into a man’s chambers while he’s absent.”
Marian’s jaw tightened. “Only a coward leaves his wife alone while he forces himself on his servants.”
Owen’s mouth fell open as Marian’s heart began to pound. From fear, from tension—but mostly from exhilaration. Never had she told someone so directly what she thought of him—never had she truly imagined being free to do so.
“We’ve no desire to turn Nottingham’s wealthy into paupers.” Marian smiled beneath the shadow of her hood. “Ordinarily we’d take only a fraction of what you own—but your cowardice demands a larger tithe. Men?”
John had finished with the guards, and together he and Alan began searching through the bags and trunks piled behind the carriage while Owen stood, shaking with fury. Marian heard the clink of coin, and muted exclamations of triumph, and knew her men must have found Owen’s coffers.
Marian waited until they were done, not taking her eyes off Lord Owen, who stared back at her like he might incinerate her by willpower alone. Only once John stood at her back, staff in hand, and Alan had nocked an arrow to his bow, did Marian lower her weapon.
“And now, Lord, if you’d be so good as to step aside, I should like to pay my respects to your lady.” Marian had no expectation that Owen would do as she said, and instead moved past him while Alan and John kept him at bay.
Seild had not left the carriage. She sat, hands folded in her lap, as demure and calm as if they’d stopped only to rest. Her eyes, though, were alive with excitement and, Marian saw with surprise, enjoyment.
“Good afternoon, Lady,” Marian said in Robin’s voice, bending into a courtly bow.
Seild inclined her head in response, eyes dancing. “Robin. You venture into bold territory.”
“Only when I am certain to find allies.” Marian tilted her head, as if to indicate her men, though for Seild’s eyes she smiled, just a little, beneath her hood.
Seild ran a hand over her veil, and Marian saw with some agitation that it was shaking—despite having wanted this, despite having volunteered for it, Seild was still nervous. She did not know Marian, and Marian could not show her who she was.
“You’ve nothing to fear from me, sweet Lady,” Marian said gently. “My quarrel is with the one who owns that small fortune my men have confiscated.”
Seild’s lifted her eyebrows. “But I too own a fortune. Why have you no quarrel with me?” She leaned forward a little, into the light, which glinted off the gemstones she wore at her throat. In another circumstance Marian might recognize that tactic, for it displayed Seild’s décolletage as well as her jewelry.
“That is a beautiful necklace you wear. Too beautiful for the rigors of travel, I should think.”
“It was a gift,” said Seild, still leaning forward, still watching Marian. “From my Lord husband.”
“Ah, then, it is not really your fortune after all, is it? I think your husband would say he owns it still,” Marian declared. “Close your eyes, Lady.”
Seild gulped a breath but did as Marian requested, allowing her to step up into the carriage and bend over her long enough to release the delicate clasp of the necklace. Marian could see Seild’s pulse fluttering rapidly below her ear, and as she drew back, a flush mantled her friend’s cheeks. Startled, Marian nearly dropped the necklace—suddenly she could not help but remember one of the other ladies declaring Robin Hood a romantic, dashing figure.
“Thank you, Lady,” she said in a low voice, for Seild’s ears alone. “The poor of Nottingham will eat tonight.” Marian took her hand in order to raise it to her lips. Her heart sang with pity for a woman so starved for affection that a stranger’s touch upon her hand could stir her so easily.
But when she lifted her head, Seild’s face was pink with pleasure. Her eyes were alive in a way they never had been at Nottingham Castle, and there was a strange satisfaction in the way she sat back, chin raised, poise in her every movement. Marian knew the fire that had stiffened her spine and lit her features, for she’d felt it herself: she’d taken action, and she’d won. Against her husband, against the other lords,