Grant What I Wish

Grant What I Wish - Chapter 4. The Scholar's Mate

Chapter 4. The Scholar’s Mate

Nottingham

1194

…that you often

sit down in a fire like aloes wood, and often go out

to meet a blade like a battered helmet.

—Rumi

Guy grunted in his sleep and rolled convulsively onto his back, arms flung wide across the bed. His brow was wrinkled, as if he was concentrating or deeply disturbed. This same dream had haunted his sleep since he had returned from Prince John's court, and kept him from peaceful slumbers. But unlike so many of his other dreams, he did not mind this one.

“Sir Guy, I must ask you a difficult question,” Marian said forthrightly, moving slowly across the room to stand before him.

“I’m intrigued.”

“Did you try to kill the king in the Holy Land? Is it true? That last year you were not in quarantine with a fever, but that you travelled to the Holy Land, you and others dressed as Saracens and tried to kill the king?” She moved closer to him, her eyes searching his face.

“Robin Hood,” he said in a low, venomous voice.

“What of him?” Her chin went up in that defiant gesture that was peculiarly her own.

“You’ve been talking to him.”

“This is a rumor that has been circulating and I need an answer. I could not marry you if it were true.” Her eyes were clear, gauging his every reaction.

“Rumors, Marian. You need to be more careful of who you listen to. The day the king returns will be a day of joy for me; it is the day that I marry you.”

“I am not sure….”she said hesitantly.

“Well, you must be sure.”

“But—”

“Do you not see what you do to me, my passion for you? I have never felt like this before.” He closed the gap between them, and her gaze shuttered.

“I must go,” she said resolutely, pulling her cloak about her.

“Stay.”

“I must go,” she repeated, and moved around him towards the doorway.

“Not until you tell me you believe me.” His voice rang out with entreaty.

“I believe you,” she replied slowly, turning from the door to stare at him with her beautiful eyes. He moved once more toward her, and she did not run away or turn her head from his as she had done in the past; rather, she awaited him. She watched him warily as he slowly drew her into his embrace. As he lowered his mouth to hers, he could see himself reflected in her eyes, a man of potential, someone who might yet be redeemed.

Her lips were soft and sweet, sweeter than the sugared wine that he drank, and she parted them in eager acceptance of his own hungry mouth. He felt tugged into her orbit, caught by a gravitational pull that he could not escape. He slid his tongue between her luscious lips and moved it against her tongue in slow, sultry strokes. She closed her eyes and wilted against him, and he pulled her soft curves snugly against his chest, thighs, and loins. She threaded her fingers through his hair, pulling him closer, surrendering herself to his questing mouth and feverish embrace….

His hands clenched at the bedclothes. "Marian...dear God, Marian," he moaned in desire, as he reached out for her once more.

A loud crash roused him from his sleep. The door to his bedroom had been kicked in, he realized belatedly as he was dragged from his bed. Guy struggled, outraged to be so rudely released from his aroused dreams, but he was outnumbered and quickly overpowered. One of the soldiers bade him in a harsh voice to remain quiet-the prince demanded to see him.