The Return

➳

"Sir Guy seems to have developed an interest in you. I have noticed how attentive he is when we visit the castle. Maybe you and he should..." Father's voice faltered as he glanced up from the ledger he was working on and caught my eye.
From my seat beside the fire, I lowered my embroidery slowly and returned his stare, my expression one of barely concealed irritation, hardly able to believe what I was hearing. Father knew my thoughts on betrothal, and he knew my thoughts on Guy of Gisborne; I would accept neither, as he was well aware. Maybe I had not made myself clear enough on the subject of both.
I gently placed my embroidery on my lap, silently congratulating myself on my ability to hold my temper. I hated being angry at Father, but he did say the most ridiculous things at times, and on those occasions, it took everything I had to hold my tongue. I knew he had my best interests at heart, but really. Me and Sir Guy?
"Father," I said, with far more patience than was deserved. "Mayhap you are feeling tired, or have temporarily lost control of your mind. I will not deign to consider any thoughts of betrothal, or weddings, or Sir Guy, so please. Keep any musings of that kind to yourself."
Satisfied that my words had had the desired effect, I lifted the tunic I was stitching and focused on driving the needle into the material with more force than was necessary. If I was not to take my frustrations out on my father, then the material would suffer instead.
Father sighed and carefully placed his quill in the pot of ink before him. "I do worry about you, my dear. It has been five years since Robin left. Must you wait for him forever?"
The needle in my hand jumped as it passed through the material, and the tip plunged into the pad of my finger. I cursed in a most unladylike manner and paused to glare at my digit, watching as a pinprick of blood appeared. Quickly, I put the finger to my mouth to prevent staining the tunic and raised baleful eyes to my father.
I felt mildly wounded at his mention of Robin. Robin, lord of Locksley and Earl of Huntingdon, had once been my betrothed, but our communion had ended when he left for the Holy Land five years before. I hadn't heard from him since, but it didn't stop me from thinking of him, and often. I wasn't waiting for him, though. That part of my life was over. But I had loved him, once upon a time.
"I'm not waiting for Robin," I retorted scornfully. "Not in the slightest. I merely do not wish to be tied to another foolish man. I thought you understood, Father."
My tone brooked no argument, and Father looked mildly ashamed.
"I do, my dear. I do." He seemed tired, and I set my embroidery aside and rose, crossing to his side.
"There are so many things to worry about these days," he continued, taking my hand and squeezing it. "I fear for our lives here. Vaisey has made things so difficult for many of us, and I'd like to see you safe, if not myself."
"And safe is marrying a brute like Sir Guy?" I said, although not unkindly. "Father, we are in this together. Whatever Vaisey throws at us, we weather it together."
He thought for a moment and then gave me a small smile, squeezing my hand again.
"Now," I said, releasing him and reaching to pour him more wine from the jug on the table. "No more talk of Robin, or Sir Guy, or betrothal. Do you hear?"
He chuckled and I breathed a sigh of relief. I knew what was expected of me as a lady and only heir to Knighton. Marriage to a worthy nobleman, children, and wifely duties. But why should I do what was expected of me when men could get away with doing whatever they wished? It was an unfair existence, and I was adamant that my life would be different. I didn't want to be chained to a male and lose all that I owned, for all of my worldly possessions would become my husband's as soon as I wed. No man was worth giving up my independence for. Not anymore.
Although, once upon a time, Robin had been worth it, my treacherous mind whispered. I'd have given up anything for him.
I stomped back to my seat, meaning to stab myself again with the needle for thinking such silly thoughts, when my attention was caught by the sound of hoofbeats on the pathway outside.
Behind me, Father gave a sharp intake of breath, and I immediately reached for my bow, which was propped against the wall.
Nobody paid us a visit anymore. Such was the influence of the new sheriff and his lackeys that people feared moving from village to village, preferring to stay huddled away in their own demesne, where they could avoid the risk of being noticed by Vaisey. He saw everything, had spies everywhere, and Knighton was no different.
"Who is it?" Father hissed, and I moved quickly to the small window beside the door, peering out.
There were two men approaching on foot, leading their horses. They were unarmed, clad in casual clothes, and appeared largely unthreatening. They were... they were...
My breath caught in my throat and my heart began to thump in my chest. No. It couldn't be. Not after all this time.
But it was.
I pressed my face into the cool wall, feeling my cheeks begin to burn as I fought to subdue the great feeling of happiness and excitement that bubbled in the pit of my stomach.
"It's Robin and Much," I told Father, and my voice sounded strangled.
"What? Oh, but my dear..." Father sounded both relieved and pleased, but that wasn't what I wanted to hear.
"Get rid of them," I said dully.
"But..."
I whirled around to face Father, fully aware of how ruffled I must appear. "Get rid of them," I repeated firmly. "It isn't safe. Vaisey may have sent them. We can't trust them, Father. We can't trust anyone."
Father looked dubious, and I crossed to him quickly.
"Tell them to leave, Father," I said insistently.
He blinked and then nodded, and I felt a wrench of pity at how old and tired he appeared. Nevertheless, he summoned up strength and strode to the door, pulling it open and stepping outside.
Left alone, I sagged momentarily, and put a hand to the wall to steady myself. My legs felt weak; my stupid heart, even more so. Robin. It was Robin! He had returned, as he had promised he would all of those years ago.
"We can pick up where we left off when I am back," he had told me, but I had scoffed, not believing him.
I had reacted impulsively, telling him never to return, telling him the betrothal was off. My heart had been broken, and I had been on the verge of tears. He had walked away sadly, yet it was only after he had gone that I allowed myself to cry.
Since then, I had resolved never to let a man get close to me ever again.
Yet here he was. He had promised to return. And I was in trouble.
Steeling myself, I pushed off the wall and nocked an arrow, my hands trembling very slightly. Then, drawing the bow, I stepped to the open door.
"You heard my father," I said, levelling the arrow at Robin's heart. "Leave."
He had changed. No longer was he the slightly built young man I had last seen, brimming with swagger and false bravado. He had filled out, and looked older, although it suited him. His beautiful blue eyes were still the same, and I felt myself teetering on an edge, ready to tumble into their depths as he stared at me in delight.
"Marian," he said in wonder. "It is me, Robin."
His voice was deeper, and the words caressed the walls around my heart, attempting to coax them down, but it was no use. I hardened.
"Congratulations. Leave."
My cold tone seemed not to touch him, and he continued, regardless of the arrow aimed at his heart. "How are you? I've thought of you."
I felt the overwhelming urge to weep and throw myself into his arms, but forced my expression to remain frosty. Inside, I was a maelstrom of emotion: feelings of joy, exuberance, relief, and anger all competed for dominance, but anger had become a close ally of mine, and so anger I chose.
"Leave." I was steel, impervious to his charms, a lioness protecting her home and her heart.
"We are leaving," said Much.
I didn't look at him, although I was thankful. Much had always been the voice of reason amidst Robin's antics. And no matter how glad I was to see Robin, he must never know. He no longer deserved anything from me.
Father was retracing his steps and, once he was safely inside, I relaxed the bow and reached out to slam the door shut. I admit, I did feel an ounce of pleasure at my last glimpse of Robin's surprised face as the door cut him off mid-sentence while he implored Father to relent.
In the dim light of the hall, Father and I looked at each other, and I pressed my lips together stubbornly and nodded.
"We did the right thing, Father."
Father smiled faintly and wearily. "I expect you're right, my dear," he said lightly, before turning back to his ledgers.
Slowly, I removed the arrow from the bow and replaced it in the cloth bag. Unstringing the bow, I placed it back where I had found it, taking my time as I collected my thoughts.
My mind was awhirl. Robin was back, and he had arrived at Knighton, wanting to speak to me. How dare he? The fool! He left me five years ago, having chosen the king over me, and now that he was ready to return, I was expected to drop everything and welcome him back with open arms!
It wasn't going to happen. I was no longer the innocent young girl he had discarded. I was a woman now. I had options. I had strengths. I did not need a man who thought so little of me that he would disappear for years. I was not a toy to be thrown down and then picked up again when he was ready.
No, Robin would not find welcoming arms here in Knighton anymore. Those days were long gone. I would avoid him from now on, and the rare occasions that we did meet, I would be civil yet cold as ice. What we had had - it no longer existed, and Robin needed to realise that. I was no longer his.
And yet, why did my heart insist on telling me differently?