Seducing the Sheriff of Nottingham, page 12
part #5 of A Kinda Fairytale Series
Nicholas had no idea what to say in response. No one else had ever said such a remarkable thing to him, but he loved hearing it. He loved anything that hinted that she enjoyed his company even a fraction as much as he enjoyed hers. Spending this afternoon with her had been the best day of his life.
“I have to go up to my room and get my wedding dress.” Marion continued, missing his silent adoration. “The hideous rag your minions get for me is too small and scratchy. Since I’ve decided I might as well make this my dream wedding, this time around I’ll be wearing my own gown.”
That distracted him from all the warm feelings growing in his chest. “You own a wedding dress?”
“Of course! I was the Maidiest Maid who ever Maid-ed. I started imagining my wedding when I was in utero. It was like the one thing I was allowed to plan, so I invested some real time into it. I have a binder full of ideas, just on linen choices.” She waved a hand. “Don’t worry about a thing, for Wednesday. I’ve got our whole reception covered and my wedding dress is already altered.”
His brow furrowed and he rose to his feet. “But you altered it for your wedding to Hood.” It wasn’t a question.
“I bought it for my wedding.” Marion corrected, sounding insulted. “It’s my perfect gown. It has tulle and pockets and buttons on the back and a bow.”
The wedding Nicholas had planned was a trap for Hood. Nothing more. So it didn’t really matter what Marion wore to it. Logically, he knew that. “Has Hood ever seen you in this perfect gown, with a bow and pockets and whatever else?” He demanded anyway.
“Nope.” Marion went up on tiptoes and brushed her lips across his, like she was charmed by his jealous question. “And neither will you, until the big day, nummy-muffin.”
She was playing, but Nicholas felt her quick kiss like a hammer to the gut. His mind was wiped clean of all rational thought. Every muscle in his body tightened, sparks of energy arcing through him. The world slowed around him and everything --everything-- became Marion.
God, he’d been so stupid, trying to convince himself this wedding was about catching Hood. The truth was so much simpler.
The only truth was her.
Marion started to bounce away from him, pleased with her teasing. Nicholas’ hand moved of its own accord. Instinct took over and he seized hold of her, dragging her back. His bulky fingers encircled her arm with room to spare. As always, he was morbidly aware of the difference in their sizes. He could damage her, if he wasn’t gentle. So he was very, very careful… but he wasn’t letting her go.
Rather than shove him away, Marion grinned. The perverse woman seemed to like it when he captured her. One day, she would go back to hating him for abducting her, but for now she acted like he was a friend. More than a friend. A man she wanted touching her. Someone she cared about. Having Marion smiling at him was even better than he’d always imagined.
Nicholas sat on the edge of the old duke’s desk, tugging Marion towards him, so she was standing between his knees. She was so damn small, the new position made it easier for her to look into his eyes. He loved it when she looked into his eyes. She was the only one who ever had. The only one he’d ever wanted to.
“Yes, orange peel?” Marion asked, like she wasn’t sure what he planned to do next, but she was eager to find out.
He had no idea why she was so bizarrely agreeable to being caught by the Sheriff of Nottingham, but he wasn’t dumb enough to question his luck. He’d never gotten anywhere in his life by letting chances pass him by. He just pushed and pushed and pushed, until he reached his goal.
“Again.” Nicholas wasn’t sure whether it was a demand or a request, but it didn’t seem to matter. Marion edged closer to him, instead of running away. That was all he cared about.
“Kiss you again?” She translated, breathlessly.
“Yes. Kiss me, again.” Now, it was a demand.
Her arms wound around his neck and she obediently kissed him, again. It was that simple. Dear God… Nicholas groaned in surrender, as her lips parted against his. Marion tasted like bubblegum and magic. He deepened the kiss and she leaned against his body, giving him just what he’d always wanted. Her attention. Her touch. Her sweetness. Her.
This woman was the only really real thing in his life.
Marion made a humming sound of pleasure and the top nearly blew off his head. “You know, my father would not approve of us making out on his desk.” She whispered against his mouth. “He was very proper.”
The old duke wouldn’t approve of Nicholas touching his immaculate daughter, anytime or anywhere. Gargoyles were an entirely different species than Maids, both literally and figuratively. No one in Nottingham ever forgot that.
Except Marion.
“Is it really Bad to like knowing he wouldn’t approve?” She asked with a delighted wrinkle of her freckled nose.
“Christ, I hope so. I love it when you’re Bad.” From the time he was thirteen, her troublemaking side had entranced him.
She smiled impishly. “Wanna pretend we’re kids and you snuck in here to ravish me?”
He wanted to push her to her knees and show her what happened to naughty little teases. He wanted to come all over her perfect body, just to mark her as his. He wanted to take her against the desk, while she sobbed his name. Then, he wanted her to curl up on his lap, so he could hold her while she slept and whisper promises into her strawberry-scented hair.
He wanted her to be his girl.
Nicholas’ grasped the curves of her hips and drew her even closer. Flattening her against him. Any inch of space between them was too much. It always had been. She fit against him, just like he knew she would. Like she was meant to…
Marion jolted.
Too late, he recalled she was a virgin. She might be a mischievous little thing, but she was innocent. And gargoyles were big. They were carved that way. The rock-hard evidence of his desire caught her off guard. Marion gave a small gasp of surprise at the feel of him against her.
“Sorry.” She blurted out.
He suddenly wanted to smile. “For what?”
“I don’t know. I’m just not used to this. I should be way more experienced, at my age.” She looked a little frazzled. “See? Slight sexual dysfunction. I told you. But, I didn’t exactly date in prison. And Robin…” She shook her head. “I’m probably going to screw this up, because I’m not sure what…”
Nicholas cut her off. “Marion?”
“Yeah?”
“Kiss me, again.”
That relaxed her instantly. She beamed at him and fell back into his arms. Literally fell, dropping her weight forward and expecting him to catch her against him. Which was exactly what happened. Nicholas wrapped her back up in his embrace, his lips unerringly finding hers. Starving for her. Marion laughed lightly and the sound was absolutely beautiful.
And suddenly Nicholas saw how his life was always supposed to be.
How it could be.
The stony determination that defined the very core of Nicholas switched on. It had driven him to heights no gargoyle had ever dreamed of. Now, it focused in on something even more crazy and improbable than running a kingdom. Something he’d never dared to consciously think about before. The glory of his idea swept over him like a tidal wave, washing away all the harsh realities that threatened to keep him from what he wanted most. There had to be a way and he would find it.
Nicholas was a man who never missed an opportunity.
Marion finally ended the kiss. Obviously, it would be her who pulled back first. He’d happily live and die in this room, if it meant keeping her lips pressed against his. The wonder of having her in his arms was almost a religious experience for him. Years and years of hopeless yearning and then --miraculously-- this.
But… Now what should he do?
Sexual activity in Nottingham had a transactional element. For gargoyles, that meant actual gold changing hands whenever a woman touched them. Payment was expected. It proved the physical intimacy was about business and that the woman herself wasn’t tainted by unnatural desires for inhuman men. She just wanted their money.
Nicholas wasn’t sure about the next step, when the woman touching him was Marion, though. She was special. Clean and kind and she’d seemed to like kissing him back. He wasn’t imagining that, was he? This situation was outside of his experience.
Offering her any kind of payment felt wrong. But, Marion might be offended that he didn’t give some sort of compensation. Any other woman would be. He needed to say something… maybe? That might work. Something very amazing, and possibly romantic, and that conveyed all the incredible emotions he felt for her.
Unfortunately, he sucked at talking.
“Thank you, Marion.” He whispered, feeling like an idiot, even as the too simple words left him. He wished he knew poetry.
Brown eyes stayed locked on his, big and a little wary. “If you’re toying with me, just because you want to take something from Robin, I will never forgive you.” Her lips were moist, and her voice was breathless, and she was using the most serious voice he’d ever heard her use. “And if you think I’m a fixated bitch now… wait until I’m your ex.”
“I don’t think you’re a fixated bitch.” He said, because it was true and because everything else he wanted to say was beyond his capabilities.
“Then you haven’t been paying attention.”
“I always pay attention to you.”
“Why do you pay attention to me? That’s the question that I’ve been asking myself for years. If you’re around, I know you’re watching me. I can feel you watching me. It’s always been that way, I think. Why?”
Nicholas stared into her eyes and reluctantly told the truth. He always wanted to tell Marion the truth. “I can’t help it. All I see is you.”
She studied him for a long moment, searching for something.
“When I kiss you, I am not thinking about Hood.” He assured her, because that seemed to be what she was worried about, even though it was crazy on every possible level.
“You’re positive?”
“Yes. Trust me.” He’d always wanted her trust, too. Although he’d done literally nothing to earn it, he wanted it anyway. “Trust me. Just this once.”
Marion blinked at the words, like maybe they weren’t as inadequate as Nicholas had feared. As if maybe they actually… meant something to her. “You told me to trust you once before.”
He hadn’t, but he wasn’t going to argue about it. “Did it work?”
She pursed her swollen lips in thought. “I’m still considering it.” Her hair bounced enticingly, as she headed out of the room. “Wait here, honey-bunny. I’ll be right back.” She sashayed off to retrieve her precious wedding dress.
Breathing hard and aching with desire, Nick Greystone chose his future.
Right there in the Duke of Huntingdon’s overwrought study, his life reached a fork in the road. One way led to continued achievement and peaceful solitude. He knew every inch of that path. The other was a hopeless morass of twists and turns, that would no doubt get him killed. Only a doomed idiot would venture even a step farther on that trail.
And he was taking it anyway, because Marion stood at the other end.
Maybe this crazy route was destined to collapse beneath his feet, but falling was better than never walking it, at all. He had nothing without that little troublemaker, so risking everything on Marion was a simple choice. When he inevitably self-destructed, he’d at least do it reaching for something spectacular. His new goal was worth the gamble. It was worth anything. Everything.
Fuck Robin Hood. Fuck the old duke and everyone else who stood in his way.
Fuck ‘em all.
Nicholas was going to keep Marion for himself.
And he was damn sure claiming his betrothal rights.
Chapter Nine
Orphans of the forest: Lovable foundlings or cannibal outlaws?
Alan A. Dale- “Nottingham’s Naughtiest News”
Marion hadn’t been inside her bedroom in ten years, but it was like she’d never left. The smell of her favorite perfume clinging to the air, the familiar color of the pale yellow walls as the sunlight came through the windows, her fuzzy slippers haphazardly peeking out from beneath her four-poster bed… It was all exactly the same. The room had greeted her every morning for twenty-six years and she remembered every inch of it.
She especially remembered how to open the secret drawer in her vanity.
Marion marched over to the dainty piece of furniture, covered in pretty glass bottles and unpaid bills. She pressed the hidden button on one of the carved rosettes and then slid open the small compartment it revealed. Inside was her most prized possession, limp from constant re-readings and water-stained from her heartfelt tears. The only letter Robin had sent her from the Looking Glass Campaigns.
Before her life imploded, Marion had read the poetic words every night, dreaming about her perfect future with her True Love.
After her arrest, she’d lain awake in her dark prison cell, brooding about the note and growing increasingly suspicious.
Shoving the dog-eared paper into her pocket, Marion raised her eyes to look at her reflection in the vanity mirror. Rewinding ten years could mess with a girl’s mind. It seemed strange to see herself looking so innocent. In her head, she still had a safety pin through her eyebrow, chopped off hair, and a “don’t fuck with me” reputation around the prison. She could go back to a younger version of her body, but that didn’t change the person she’d grown into after her murder conviction. Her hair might be longer and her face rounder, but inside she was still a thirty-six year old felon.
Good.
Marion liked who she was and she was fine with her “real” age. A decade behind bars had taught her some shit she never would have learned in Nottingham. Being a bitch was way funner than being a Maid. Besides, if you thought about it a certain way, she was actually older than Nicholas, now. That was kind of cool.
Marion tugged at her eyebrow, frowning slightly. She did miss the safety pin, though. It wouldn’t be too hard to pierce…
The window behind her slowly swung open. In the mirror, Marion watched one gangly leg fumble over the sill, as someone tried to clamber into her bedroom.
Huh.
Rather than call for help, she grabbed the inexpensive floral lamp off her nightstand and stalked towards the intruder. She would never, ever wait for someone else to rescue her ever again. And she was great with lamps.
The second a shaggy head poked past the lace curtain, Marion brained it. Cheap glass shattered over the invader’s skull and he gave a yelp of pain and surprise.
“Ow!” A long, skinny body tumbled into the room and splayed on the threadbare rug. “Damn it, Marion! That really hurt!”
Little John.
Crap.
Marion winced a bit, watching the teenager clutch his bruised scalp. If she’d known it was L.J., she wouldn’t have used quite so much force. Unlike so many of Robin’s Merry Men, she liked Little John. He was only fifteen, but he was tall, already towering over the others. That made his childhood nickname kind of silly, but there was simply no changing it. He was “L.J.,” now and forever.
L.J. had been tagging along with the Merry Men ever since Robin got back from war. That was an obvious mark against his brainpower, but he was still a sweet kid. He just hero-worshiped her doofy ex, probably because Robin was an orphan, too. Everyone in Sherwood was an orphan. Robin had been raised by an earl, but the Merry Men seemed to see it as some kind of fated connection between them. L.J.’s devotion was a little much, in her opinion, but Robin accepted it as his due.
Still, L.J. was harmless. It was why Marion had deliberately left Little John’s name off the list of Robin’s men, when she gave it to Nicholas. L.J. wasn’t the murderer. If her groom got a bit gallows-happy with Robin’s men, she didn’t want the poor kid to get accidently hanged.
“Are you okay?” She crouched down next to L.J., brushing back his blond hair to survey the damage to his head, ignoring the dirt and grime. The Merry Men weren’t known for their hygiene. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know it was you breaking in.”
“I’m not ‘breaking in’. I’m fleeing Nottingham. Just as soon as I can stand.” He winced, as she prodded his wound. “You can come, too. Do you have any money for our passage, maybe?”
“I’m touched by your thoughtfulness.” Marion said dryly. “But, I’m not going anywhere until Friday.” No way was she skipping town without knowing who’d stolen Nicholas’ life.
“You don’t understand…”
“Marion!” The bedroom door slammed open and Nicholas stood there, sword in hand. “Are you alright?” He must’ve heard the commotion and come running. He probably thought Robin had come for her and he could kill him. He was in for a disappointment.
“I’m fine, love bug. This is Little John.”
Nicholas’ gaze switched to the unwashed teenager and she saw him sigh. “Oh, for Christ’s sake…”
L.J. somehow paled even more at the sight of the sheriff, but he staggered to his feet. “I know archery! I won’t let you take me alive. I’ll…” He stopped short, processing Marion’s words. His head whipped around to gape at her. “Did you just call him ‘love bug’?”
“She did.” Nicholas’ said in a long-suffering tone and looked back at Marion. “The child is a Merry Man, I take it?” There was no hiding the fact Little John was dressed in green tights and a bunch of twigs. “This is the best rescuer Hood could send for you, duchess?”
“Robin didn’t send him.” Marion was sure of that.
“Robin didn’t send me!” L.J. interjected hotly. “I’m not even following him, anymore!”
Marion’s head tilted at that news. Nicholas was opening his mouth, no doubt to call L.J. a liar, but she shot him a quick “shut up” look. To her surprise, Nicholas actually complied. He sent her an exasperated glance, but he put his sword away and refrained from displaying any more of his charming conversational skills.
“You’re not following Robin?” She asked Little John in her most innocent voice. “Why not, L.J.?”
