A Place to Call Home, Chapter Five (6/?) PG-13 (original) (raw)

Title: A Place to Call Home, Chapter Five (6/?)

Rating: This chapter: PG

Characters: Guy/Marian

Summary: “I do not love you,” she cried in frustration. “Why do you want me?”

A/N: I’ve set this story immediately after the events of the first season finale. However, I have included information derived from subsequent episodes, in particular from season three’s “Bad Blood” used here for my purposes as source material and plot motives for the characters.

As a further note, I personally found the character of Isabella to be a tired and terrible plot contrivance, so for my purposes, she never existed. Guy was raised an only child.

Chapter Five

Marian adjusted the heavy basket hanging over her arm as she approached the spice merchant. This was her favorite stall at the marketplace and she always saved it as her last stop. She murmured a greeting to the merchant and inhaled deeply, enjoying the heady aroma of the many exotic spices.

She and the cook had settled on a roast of pork for the evening’s meal. She selected several bulbs of garlic and pointed toward the caraway seed. While the merchant measured out the seed, she lifted a handful of coriander to her nose, inhaling the lemony scent and smiled at the vendor to add it to her purchases. While she waited for the merchant to wrap up her purchases, she decided to have the cook make a pork pie of the leftovers for the next day’s meal and made a mental note to pick up a wedge of cheese before heading home.

She flashed a smile of thanks at the merchant and was tucking away her change when she heard a familiar voice.

“Good afternoon, my lady.”

Marian looked up at the cloaked and hooded figure leaning indolently against the side of one of the stalls and felt a surge of affection for him as well as annoyance at his brashness. She hastily pulled him into a shadowy corner behind the stall.

“You should not be here,” she hissed. “One of these days you will be caught!”

He flashed a cocky grin until she softened and smiled back.

“Truly, Robin, you take too many risks.”

“These people are my friends,” he shrugged.

“Most,” she admonished sternly in a reminder that Guy’s men patrolled the villages surrounding the castle on a regular basis.

He merely smiled again and she sighed, unwilling to argue. They fell into a silence made uncomfortable by the memory of their last meeting.

“What are you doing here?” she finally asked.

“I heard this was the day you usually come to the market. I wanted to see you.”

“Oh, Robin. You… we can’t –” She drew in a deep breath. “Nothing has changed. I am married.”

“You are right,” he told her. “Nothing has changed. I still love you.”

“Well, you should not,” she said petulantly. “I told you before – nothing can come of it.”

“Marian –” He reached for her but she held out a forestalling hand and took a hasty step back.

Robin subsided and gave a terse nod of his head and again, they slipped into an awkward silence. “I understand the Sheriff is expecting guests,” he said at length.

“So I have been told.”

“I assume you will be in attendance?”

Marian nodded, avoiding his gaze.

“I will.”

“Lord and Lady Wykeham?”

“That is what Guy –” She flushed at his sharp look. “Yes,” she amended hastily. “That is what I have heard.”

“Do you know what the Sheriff wants of them?”

“No,” she murmured warily.

“Can you find out?”

“Robin,” she protested. “I–”

“Does your new position as Lady Gisbourne preclude you now from helping our cause?
He spat out her title as if it were foul-tasting.

“Robin…” Marian fell silent, thinking of Guy’s warnings to avoid antagonizing the Sheriff.

“I cannot.”

Robin’s features twisted into an ugly mask. “Your husband must be a skilled lover to have secured your loyalty so swiftly.”

Anger blazed through her and her fist swung out instinctively. He clamped a hand on her wrist before she could make contact with his jaw.

“I am sorry.” He pulled her close and lowered his forehead to hers. “I am sorry, Marian. I did not mean it. My words were born of jealousy. I cannot bear to think of you in his bed.”

Hot tears burned behind Marian’s closed eyes as he pulled her into his arms. She trembled as she rested her cheek against his shoulder and relaxed into the comfort of his embrace.

“Marian.” His lips brushed against her ear as he whispered her name. He cupped her face between his hands and murmured her name over and over again before lowering his mouth to hers in a lingering kiss.

Marian wrenched free of his arms and stumbled away, shaken back to reality by the touch of his lips. She raised trembling fingers to her mouth and shook her head furiously.

“No. We cannot.” She swiped her fingers across her mouth as if to erase his kiss.

“I know,” he said grimly. “I am sorry. I did not mean… it is hard for me –” He squeezed his eyes closed for a moment before returning his gaze to her. “Again, I apologize.”

Marian swallowed hard and stared at a fixed point somewhere beyond his shoulder.

“I will find out what I can for you about the Sheriff’s plans,” she said tightly as she scooped up her basket. “And I will get word to you.”

He nodded silently, his mouth set in a firm line.

“Goodbye, Robin.” Clutching her basket tightly in her hands, Marian fled.

**********

Guy watched in silence as his wife put the finishing touches to her toilette. She sat patiently while her maid fussed with her hair, pulling it back at the crown and allowing the rest to lay in a dark waving mass down her back. Marian fastened small gold earbobs to her lobes and rose. She smoothed her hands over her skirts and studied her reflection in the dull surface of a mirror.

At last she turned and faced him.

“Well?”

He cocked his head to one side and studied her intently. Shaking his head, he climbed to his feet and paced in a circle around her.

Exasperated, she folded her arms across her chest and tapped her foot impatiently.

“It is no good,” he said, his brows knit into a frown.

“If my appearance does not meet your approval, you have only yourself to blame,” she snapped. “You told me to dress conservatively.”

“Indeed,” he agreed with another glance at her midnight blue gown. “But I was wrong. You are beautiful and all eyes will be on you no matter what you wear.” He smiled as he reached for her hand but she snatched it away with a petulant sniff. He bit back a sigh and straightened his back.

“Shall we, my lady?” he asked in a mildly exasperated tone. He was unsure what to make of her. He could not help but note the change in her temperament over the last days. In his experience, women were prone to mercurial shifts of mood, Marian perhaps more so than any woman he had ever known. But he remembered her teasing smile over the breakfast table and her response to his kisses and so, kept a firm leash on his own temper lest he destroy any progress he had made.

Marian laid her hand into his outstretched one, allowing him to guide her down the stairs and out to their waiting horses. They rode toward the castle in silence, each lost in their own thoughts. Ever since her encounter with Robin, she knew she had been out of sorts and short of temper. Even the servants had noticed her ill-humor and had taken pains to move quietly about their mistress.

Seeing Robin had left her in a state of confusion. She could not remember a time when she had not loved him. It seemed that even when she hated him for leaving her to follow the king to war, some part of her must have loved him still. And when he returned those feelings had flared back to life.

And yet, since her marriage to him, Guy had been kind and there were times when she thought that maybe the life she would live with him need not be one of misery. She had been cautiously tip-toeing her way toward getting to know her husband better, allowing her pragmatic side to the forefront as she sought to make the best of the situation and firmly locking away the romantic.

Or so she thought.

But then she had seen Robin and he had kissed her. She had secretly craved that kiss, and hated that in the end it left her feeling vaguely guilty. As if she had somehow betrayed Guy. And that set a flame to her temper, for she told herself there was no need for the feelings of guilt as she had been tricked into a marriage she had never wanted.

But those feelings of remorse persisted and with them her foul mood. Knowing that she would do as Robin had asked tonight and spy on the Sheriff and his guests – and that Guy would most assuredly consider that a betrayal – only served to increase her agitation and sensation of guilt.

The sun was swimming on the horizon when they reached Nottingham castle. As they rode beneath the portcullis, even Marian – consumed by her thoughts as she was – could not help but take note of the change which had come over her husband. A forbiddingly familiar disposition settled over him and his features looked to be carved of granite. He assisted her from the saddle with gentle hands but appeared taller than ever beside her, his posture so erect it seemed his spine might snap from the unyielding stiffness with which he held himself.

He escorted her into the main hall and stood rigidly at her side, making no effort at the small talk which was de rigueur at social gatherings, until his forbidding mien had others leaving a wide circle around the two of them and she could not help but note his restless gaze darting about them as if alerted to some danger which lurked in the shadowy corners of the hall.

Marian held her tongue, distracted for the moment from her own plans for the evening. When they were called to dinner, she allowed her husband to lead her to a chair at the table and was surprised when he did not take the seat next to her. A feeling of disquiet came over her as she watched him take up his usual position just behind the Sheriff’s chair.

As the meal progressed, she observed with mounting dismay as the Sheriff’s master-at-arms made his reappearance. Until that moment, she had not been consciously aware of how different his behavior was at home, but now each forbidding glower, each snarled command which sent servants scurrying out of his path and each display of fawning attention to the Sheriff and his guests increased her confusion.

By the time the meal was over, Marian’s disgust at her husband’s behavior was so complete that she did not worry herself with trivial things like loyalty or betrayal and gladly slipped from her seat the moment she saw the Sheriff lead Lord Wykeham from the hall.

She kept a healthy distance between herself and her prey. Pressing her hands against her skirt to minimize the rustling noise it made as she hurried along the twisting corridors of the castle, she could not help but wish for the less restrictive garb of her Nightwatchman disguise. She peeked around a corner and saw the Sheriff escort his guest into his inner sanctum. She waited a moment or two before edging closer. Throwing a cautious look over her shoulder, she pressed her ear to the door but though she could hear the muffled sound of male voices, she was unable to make out what was being said through the thick wood.

She briefly considered easing the door open ever so slightly but quickly dismissed the idea as too dangerous. A small grin lifted the corners of her mouth as she remembered that there was a second entrance to the room from the servants’ hallways which ran in a warren through the center of the castle. She had only taken a few short steps when she heard the sound of booted footfalls growing closer. Panicked she looked around for a place to hide and threw herself into a small alcove on the other side of the hall and just feet away from the Sheriff’s door. She gathered her skirt close to her body and melted back into the shadows stifling a gasp as her husband’s imposing figure came into view. Holding her breath, Marian pressed her back to the wall and prayed that the darkness shielded her hiding spot.

***********

Guy strode purposely down the hall toward the Sheriff’s office. He wanted this meeting – and this evening – to be over so that he could take his wife and return to the relative quiet of Locksley. The constant need for vigilance of and from the Sheriff’s machinations was growing increasingly exhausting.

He wrapped his fingers around the handle of the door and was about to push it open when he suddenly stopped, his attention caught by an unexpected fragrance in the air. He inhaled deeply and caught the scents of lavender and vanilla and…

“Marian.”

He dropped his forehead against the door for a brief moment before turning and looking directly into the gloom of her hiding spot.

“I know you are there,” he hissed, and taking two long strides towards the alcove, he reached into the shadows and yanked her into the light.

“You stupid girl,” he breathed, clamping both hands onto her upper arms and giving her a tiny shake. “What in God’s name were you thinking?”

Marian shook a strand of hair off her face and stood passively in his grip, unable to come up with a plausible lie. She knew there was nothing she could say which would satisfy him. She had been caught and settled into silence.

“Well?” His fingers tightened painfully on her arms as he dragged her up onto the tips of her toes. “We both know the only reason you agreed to marry me in the first place – indeed the only reason you are living with me as my wife today – is to secure my protection for you and your father,” he snarled. His face was so close to hers, she was having trouble keeping it in focus. “Would you jeopardize all of that by this deceit?”

He shoved her away and raked a hand through his hair.

“Did Hood put you up to this?” He shot her a look rife with suspicion and she fought to keep her gaze steady on his. “This is not a game, Marian,” he whispered harshly. “If the Sheriff caught you he would kill you, but first he would kill your father and make you watch. ” He tangled his fingers into her hair and pulled her head back and his pupils were wide with rage and fear. “I do not know how to make you understand. He is not sane. Do not cross him.”

The sound of voices drawing closer to the door, drew their attention. Guy briefly considered grabbing Marian by the hand and running but he knew the chance of them being seen was too great. He looked wildly around for a place to hide her, his gaze lighting on the shadowy alcove, but if the Sheriff happened to see her there. He could not risk it.

No, he thought. Better to hide in plain sight.

“Come with me.” He dragged her down the hall toward a staircase which led to the bedchambers on the next level. “Play along,” he hissed and yanked her into his arms as the door to the Sheriff’s office swung open.

“Come, my love,” Guy dropped a kiss on her lips as the Sheriff and Lord Wykeham stepped into view. “The journey home is long and I have a chamber above.” He began to back up the stairs, tugging on her hand, a suggestive smile on his face.

She could feel the Sheriff’s gaze boring a hole in her back and hoped the shiver which ran through her seemed one born of passion.

“Guy.” She stared at her husband, eyes wide with fear and forced out a giggle. Prayed it sounded convincing. “We should not.”

“Gisbourne!”

Guy snapped to attention at the sound of his superior’s voice and scrambled down the stairs.

“My lord.” He carefully positioned himself between the Sheriff and Marian.

“Did you misunderstand my request for you to attend me and Lord Wykeham?” the Sheriff asked in an oily voice all the more alarming for its feigned pleasantness.

“My lord, I–”.

“Now, now, Vasey. Do not be too hard on the boy,” Wykeham interrupted. “I understand you are newly wed, Sir Guy. Is that not right?”

“It is my lord.”

“Well, I can certainly understand the distraction with a bride as appealing as yours,” the other man said with a leering look at Marian. She sidled closer to Guy and laid a calming hand on his back.

“Come now, Sheriff. We understand, do we not? Young love and all that.” He boomed out a lascivious laugh and the Sheriff forced a smile onto his face.

“Of course,” he murmured. “You will want to return to your own lovely wife, no doubt.” He gestured toward the corridor which led to the main hall. “Please, go on ahead. The desserts are undoubtedly already being served. We will join you in a moment.”

The remaining three waited in a pregnant silence as Wykeham touched his fingers to his forehead in a farewell gesture. As soon as he had disappeared from sight, the Sheriff dropped the falsely congenial smile and rounded on his master-at-arms.

“Gisbourne,” he snarled in a menacing tone. “I warned you not to marry but you had to have your leper. He glared at Marian and she fought the instinct to duck behind her husband’s broad shoulders and instead held her ground.

“You have been good for very little since you took her to wife,” the Sheriff continued. “Distracted. Weak. Happy.” His hand flashed out with an unexpected quickness and cracked against Guy’s face. The force of the blow snapped the taller man’s head back and his lower lip split open as the Sheriff’s ring sliced through the tender skin.

Marian gasped and took a step forward but Guy shifted to block her. He raised a hand to his freely-bleeding mouth.

“I apologize, my Lord Sheriff,” he mumbled through a rapidly swelling lip. “It will not happen again.”

“Take your bitch and get out of my sight,” Vasey spat. “You are a disappointment to me and I do not want to see you for the rest of the night.” And with that he strode away, tossing off one final parting shot.

“Be here early in the morn,” he called over his shoulder. “By then I will have come up with a way for you to make it up to me.”

A shudder of revulsion rippled down Guy’s spine. There would be hell to pay. He rubbed the back of his hand over his mouth, smearing blood everywhere.

“Stop.” Marian pulled a handkerchief from the scented hollow between her breasts. “Let me see.” She tugged his collar to draw his face closer.

“I hate that man,” she murmured as she dabbed delicately at the cut on his lip. He said nothing in reply and she chanced a glance upward to gauge his reaction to her words but his expression was closed off.

“I am sorry,” she offered sincerely dropping her forehead against his chest in remorse. “I did not think that–”.

He laid a hand on her shoulder to cut her off.

“I do not wish to discuss it, Marian.” He took the soiled linen from her hand and held it firmly against his lip in an effort to staunch the flow of blood, wincing as the pressure sent a bolt of pain through him.

“But know this. All our lives hinge on my staying in the Sheriff’s good graces. If you value your own skin – and your father’s – you will not try something like this again.”

She gave a reluctant nod.

“I mean it, Marian. I will lock you in our chamber if need be,” he warned.

She nodded again in silent agreement.

“I have had enough of this party.” She tucked her hand willingly into the crook of his elbow. “Will you not take me home?”

He searched her face for some sign of subterfuge and finding only exhaustion stamped on her features, he led her toward the door and home.

TBC

A/N: My apologies for the delay in posting. I’ve actually been hard at work and wrote a long chapter last week which contained the scene on which the entire premise of my story is hinged. I tend to write each chapter in order but that scene has been torturing me and plaguing me since before I even began to write this story and I finally had to commit it to “paper” so that I could get it out of my head. Unfortunately, it’s a scene which will occur later in the story and I’ve been working on filling in the prior scenes ever since.

One of which is the one you’ve just read.