Enemy of My Enemy

Chapter Twelve - Pawns

Guy had no idea of the time.

It was daylight, he knew that much, from the crack of light showing beneath the door. But the shutters blocked the rest of it, just as he'd hoped the quantity of wine he'd sloshed down the night before would have done for his thoughts. But he'd slept poorly, and thus late.

Dragging himself upright, Guy's feet met the floor. He sat there, hunched, suspecting nothing would be gained by sudden movement. It was usefully distracting, for a minute, to sit and focus on his physical state; it removed the need to think of anything more pressing.

Like the fact that today was his wedding day. As much a miserable joke as everything else about his life. Yet arranged marriages happened all the time; why should this bother him more than the next man? As Vaisey had pointed out, his bride came with a substantial dowry, and a respected name; she was attractive, and – given the circumstances - as willing as she could be. Meg had shown herself compassionate and kind and, during what little time they'd spent together, he'd enjoyed her quick wit, her humour, and – strangely enough - her refusal to be cowed by him. So, what more could he possibly want?

The answer to that, of course, was Marian.

And he despised himself for it. Last night, she'd come barrelling out of nowhere when she thought he'd overpowered Hood. But then, the bastard had chucked his own blade at Guy's feet. So, who had Marian been trying to protect, him or Locksley? And why did it matter? She was gone. She was with Hood. Guy dug the heels of his hands into his eye sockets. Images of them together had plagued him the night before. When he'd finally fallen asleep, in his dreams it had no longer been the outlaw but he himself around whom her soft white thighs had been wrapped. Guy didn't know which was worse.

With a growl of frustration, he surged to his feet, kicking out at the stand beside the bed. The wine jug toppled, smashing, and Guy trod uncaring through the shards to the door to be met, when he hauled it open, by an infuriatingly impassive Thornton who was on the threshold just about to knock.

"What do you want?" he snapped.

"Sir Guy, I thought you might like to know, a carriage has just pulled up outside."

Guy groaned; Vaisey was the last thing he needed to deal with right now.

"Tell him I'll be..."

"Not him, sir. It's your affianced, the Lady Meg."

Guy stared at him, waiting for his thoughts to coalesce.

"What's she doing here? What time is it?"

Anxiety flooded him; had he been so caught up in his misery that he'd missed the appointed time? If so, he hadn't intended it; he wouldn't humiliate Meg in such a way.

"Plenty of time yet, Sir Guy," soothed Thornton. "I planned to inquire if you hadn't arisen by midday; the ceremony isn't until four."

"Of course," mumbled Guy. Wine and lack of sleep had derailed his common sense.

Fortunately, Thornton had enough for them both. Guy allowed himself, as Thornton called over his shoulder for a fresh pitcher of water and a broom, to be ushered back into the room. He winced at the severity of the daylight which entered as his steward opened the shutters, and latched them back into place. This done, Thornton turned to face him.

"Sir Guy, before we're interrupted, may I say something of a personal nature?"

Too listless to object, Guy waved a hand for him to continue.

"You may not remember, but on the occasion of your...ahem...other matrimonial day...you spoke to me about your desire to be understood? Well I can't say for sure what the young lady wants, but it would be my guess that she is here now seeking exactly that – to gain some understanding of you."