Heart of the Matter

Part 8

Her...

“I love you.”

I do not return Guy’s words, instead mumbling about needing to hurry back to my father. Before he has a chance to say anything more, I swing up into the saddle of my borrowed horse and spur it through the castle gateway.

As I ride back to Knighton, my head is full of quandary and not only over Guy’s whispered words of love. Was he telling the truth about his contagion? Had Robin lied or, at least, been confused about who attacked both him and the king in the Holy Land? I truly don’t know.

Pitts. I will ask the physician. Pitts has treated my father in the past and seems like a man of honour. If he says that Guy was dangerously ill, confined to his bed for weeks on end, I will take this news to Robin and challenge the truth of his words.

As I ride, I keep a look out for my runaway horse, hoping that he might have made his way out of the forest and, by some miracle, followed the road to Knighton. Sadly, as I canter up to the house, I have to conclude that Beauty is lost, at least for the time being.

I am weary to the bone, which is unsurprising as it is fast approaching midnight. I pray that my father went to bed without checking on me.

After stabling my horse, I make my way to the house. It is in darkness. I find the front door latched, but I am not alarmed. My bedchamber shutters are open and it is not difficult for me to shinny up to the window using the house’s supporting timbers as handholds; Robin isn’t the only one who can break into a house by way of the upper floor.

I tiptoe past my father’s room, first putting my ear to the door to confirm that he is indeed in there and not out searching for me. Wheezy snores tell me that he is. I expel a thankful sigh of relief.

Once in my room, I am tempted to simply collapse on the bed and sleep. That is until I recall that I promised myself I would go out tonight as the Night Watchman. I shake my head at such foolishness. I can barely keep my eyes open let alone go riding through the night handing out food and medicine. I’m afraid the needy will have to go without for another day at least.

I have stripped down to my chemise and am eyeing my bed with longing, when someone taps on my door. If it is my father saying he cannot sleep and might I fetch him some warm milk or some ale, I will find it difficult not to scream. Another tap, tap - not on the door but at my window. A moment later, a thump. I pick up one of my boots to throw at whoever is stealing into my bedchamber. A heartbeat later, I put it down with a tired smile. It is Robin.

He tosses his bow onto the bed and unbuckles his sword belt, dropping it onto the floor with a clatter.

“Shush,” I say. “You will wake my father.”

The candles on my bedside table flicker madly as a gust of wind blows through the open shutters. Shivering, I wrap my arms around myself suddenly aware of my near naked state.

“You ought to wrap up,” Robin says with a wink. “You’ll catch your death dressing like that.”

“What are you doing here?” I hiss, unamused.

I turn my back on him and scoop up a coverlet from my bed to wrap around myself. Robin thoughtfully closes the shutters.

“Well?” I ask, turning to face him.

“I came to return something.”

“What?”

“Your horse. I found its reins snagged on a tree as I was making my way here.”

“Thank you. But there was no need to bring it here tonight. You must be exhausted.”

“Is that your way of saying you don’t want me here?”