Seducing the Sheriff of Nottingham, page 20
part #5 of A Kinda Fairytale Series
“I always say ‘yes’ to you.”
“So, I’ll take care of you… and then I can touch you however I want.” That rationale still sounded a bit too transactional, but he seemed pleased. “That’s what I’ve been dreaming of, Marion. Touching you.” His fingers were back at her nipples. “Gargoyles are expected to hurry through the process. I’ve never been with a woman who just let me touch her for the sake of touching.”
“Do you like it?”
“Oh God…” It came out as a prayer, his eyes finding hers, again. “I like you better than anyone.”
That was exactly what she wanted to hear. Marion fell into a timeless, pliable trance, lulled by the erotic pressure of his palms. She knew being a Maid was lousy, but she’d had no idea the full scope of what she’d been missing out on, until now. Nicholas was onto something with his love of touching. Being touched was so much better than being untouched.
“More.” She whispered. “Please.”
“If you were ever in my bedroom, you wouldn’t have left.” He assured her and it sounded like a vow. “Kiss me, again. Right now.”
The man was a genius. Marion leaned up to accept his lips, her mouth opening beneath his. It was lucky that she was still holding on to his shirtfront. Her body went lax at the relentless invasion of his tongue and the incredible feeling of his hands. It was almost too much, but it still wasn’t enough.
Inside her pants, her core grew wetter, wanting more of what he was promising. Knowing she wasn’t going to get it today, but needing it. Needing him. “Nick.” If anyone was listening at the door (and Guyla Gisborn surely was, the nosy bitch) they would have heard her passionate wail. Marion couldn’t care less.
Nicholas gave a primitive snarl, as she broke the kiss to call out his name. “Exactly. Me, Marion.” It was somewhere between a demand and a plea. “For once, see me. Please.”
Marion tried to breathe, as his dominant hands claimed her body. She made a languid sound. Her forehead came to rest on his shoulder, giving herself fully over to his possession.
Nicholas kissed the top of her head in approval. “That’s it. You belong right here with me. I can give you more than Hood can. I swear it.”
He was waking up nerve-ending she hadn’t even known existed. Thick, syrupy pleasure enveloped her, making it hard to think. “You don’t have to give me anything, but you.” She got out.
“You already have me. You always have.” His voice was sure and hot in her ear. “It was always supposed to be me, Marion.”
The familiar words jolted Marion out of her fluffy pink cloud of desire. She reluctantly pulled back, looking up at his hard, perfect face and remembering what he didn’t.
Nicholas had told that to her, once before.
It was why he’d died alone.
Chapter Fifteen
How It Happened the First Time…
Robin Hood hadn’t come to save her.
Marion knew he wouldn’t, but living with the reality of being forsaken by her True Love was even worse than imagining it. Her tears had dried up and now she was in a numb state of shock. Large parts of the evening were a blur.
Presently, she was lying in a bed, acutely aware that it belonged to Nicholas. She’d been dozing there for hours. Nicholas’ room didn’t have a fireplace, but it was still the warmest spot in the castle. Marion was comfortable in her misery.
Nicholas hadn’t been more than five feet from the edge of the mattress, as far as she knew. It seemed that the sheriff had no idea what to do with her now, so he was keeping her close. She was apathetically confused as to why. Caring for a jilted True Love wasn’t really in an evil-doers repertoire. So far, though, Nicholas had done everything a well-brought up young man would do to comfort a distraught Maid. More in fact.
She’d fallen asleep without the slightest doubt that he’d watch over her. Maybe he was afraid she’d throw herself out the window. Maybe that was why he was standing right in front of it, staring out at the night with an expressionless expression on his face.
Marion wasn’t going to kill herself over Robin, but she also wasn’t sure what she would do next. Her entire reality had been upended. Still in her ugly, fake wedding dress and with no real plan for the future, Marion didn’t care about anything.
At some point, she would have to face the outside world, but for now she was hiding under the covers and she intended to stay there indefinitely. Tucked away in Nicholas’ impenetrable tower, she felt safe. No one could reach her here. Nicholas would never allow it. The man was huge and scary. He’d keep them all away, while she figured things out. He owed it to her.
“Would you like something to eat, duchess?”
Her swollen eyes swung over to Nicholas’ broad shoulders. He hadn’t turned to ask the question. Somehow he’d just sensed her waking up. She wasn’t surprised. She could always feel how his attention focused on her, whenever he was close by. Angrily cataloging all her flaws and committing them to some mental list, no doubt. At the May Day Queen contest, she’d almost thought she liked how his eyes never strayed from her, but she’d clearly been hallucinating.
Right now, Nicholas seemed to have trouble looking at her, at all. Maybe he felt Bad for all the trouble he’d caused her.
Good.
She might be safe in his sparsely decorated, dead-bolted bedroom and Nicholas might be behaving like a perfect gentleman, but she also blamed him for everything that had happened. Robin was to blame, too, of course. She would never forgive him for abandoning her. Nicholas was the one who made a public spectacle of her undesirability, though. His stupid kidnapping stunt had set all this into motion.
What had she ever done to him to make him hate her so much?
“You really should eat.” He urged, when she didn’t respond. “Starving yourself won’t solve anything.”
Nothing would solve this mess.
“Why do you think it called you ‘Nick’?” She asked dully. It didn’t much matter, but she’d noticed that detail.
“It’s my name.”
“You’re also Nicholas Greystone, Sheriff of Nottingham. It could’ve called you that.”
“That name doesn’t matter as much to me.”
Nothing much mattered to her, anymore. Wallowing in self-pity seemed the only way forward.
Marion groped towards Nicholas’ nightstand, feeling the tears welling in her eyes, again. She missed the box of tissues and ended up with her hand in the partially-opened drawer. Her groping fingers landed on a small round box. For no reason, she pulled it out and flipped it open. A sparkling ruby winked up at her.
“Was this ring supposed to be part of your big wedding plan?”
Nicholas busied himself crossing the room. He unlocked the million locks and opened the large, curved-top door. “Mrs. Gisborn, bring the duchess some food!” He bellowed down the curving stairs.
There was a rush of footsteps as the ever-skulking housekeeper hurried to comply.
Marion’s attention stayed on the ring. Sitting up on the bed, she turned the ruby back and forth in her hand, watching the light catch the stone. It reminded her of her mother’s necklace. Seeing the deep red color of the gem soothed her and took her mind off Robin for a moment. “This is so pretty.” She murmured, feeling better than she had all day. “Where did you get it?”
Nicholas was silent for a long beat. “It was my mother’s.” He finally said. “The one piece of jewelry she ever kept. She died when I was a boy.”
Marion’s gaze jumped to his. “Really?”
Nicholas nodded.
“My mother died when I was born.” Marion felt a strange sense of connection with him over that. She’d always felt a connection with Nicholas, even though he was an asshole who despised her. It just went to show she had consistently terrible judgement.
Nicholas met her eyes and then quickly looked away. “When I was young, I wore the ring around my neck, on a chain. I didn’t want to take it to war, though. It seemed wrong. So, I left it home.” He gestured towards the drawer. “Now, it lives here.”
“You aren’t afraid someone will steal it?” It looked valuable.
“No. I would kill anyone who came into this room and everybody knows it. I don’t like people in my space.” He must have missed the part where he’d carted her up here and nestled her against his pillow, just a few hours before. “Also, the ring is enspelled. It has to be given straight from my heart and soul, and accepted by the other person, in the same way. I suspect that will never happen, so it’s safe.”
“I wouldn’t give it away, either. It’s beautiful.”
Nicholas came close to smiling. “It is beautiful. When I took it off, I missed it. I hate that it’s hidden away in a drawer. But I don’t want its legacy to have blood attached. Stones can absorb emotions from the people who wear them. All the fighting and plotting in my life might change its energy.”
“I didn’t realize gem stones felt things.”
“I’m part stone. I feel things, Marion.”
She wasn’t sure what to make of that or of his defensive tone. “I know you do.” She agreed, because Nicholas did feel things. He hated Robin. That was an emotion.
Nicholas cleared his throat. “My mother had big plans for that ring. She was a human, but she cared about the future of the gargoyles. She wanted us to have real families. I was her family. It’s why she chose my name with such care.” He met Marion’s eyes, again. “A name means something. When someone gives you one and you accept it, it’s important.”
Marion nodded, although she wasn’t sure what he meant by that. She’d never heard the man talk so much. Or so eloquently. His mother had been important to him. He’d loved her. That was an emotion, too. He was capable of experiencing more complex feelings than he ever showed on his inscrutable face. Somehow, that idea didn’t surprise her, at all.
“My mother wanted me to be more than just a predictable, passionless follower of Nottingham.” Nicholas went on. “She would point up at the stars and tell me to wish on them every night. To always focus on my dreams. She wanted me to have something really real in my life. A purpose.”
“And did you do it? Find a purpose?”
“Yes.” He said simply.
Marion wasn’t surprised, by that either. Gargoyles were supposed to be purposeless, but Nicholas had never seemed that way to her. He was always driving towards something. She admired that. She’d never been allowed to make any real plans of her own and now all her tomorrows were blank.
Nicholas nodded towards the ring, which was still clutched in Marion’s hand. “My mother was a very independent and talented woman. Like you.”
Marion frowned. He saw her as independent and talented?
“Mother designed that ring herself.” He paused uncomfortably. “She believed gargoyles should marry and have families. She meant for the ruby to belong to my wife, one day.”
“Oh.” Marion put the ring back in the drawer like it burned her, feeling foolish and recalling the damn wedding, again. What was wrong with her? Why in the world had she been talking to him, in the first place? The man had wrecked everything for her! “I’m sorry for asking. I shouldn’t have…” Her voice trailed off, getting a look at the drawer’s interior for the first time.
Letters.
Her letters.
Dozens and dozens of them. All of them tattered from reading and rereading. All of them neatly stacked, stored alongside his mother’s treasured ring. In the large and impersonal room, no other items had been preserved with such care.
Nicholas made a sound of horror, realizing what she’d just uncovered. “Marion, don’t!”
Too late. Marion grabbed a stack of stained and crumpled envelopes. The first three in the pile were passionlessly slit open on one end. The others were ripped open. The envelopes torn, like someone had been desperate to get to the letter inside. There was no mistaking her own handwriting. These were the letters she’d written to Robin when he was fighting in the Looking Glass Campaign.
Her amazed eyes went up to Nicholas.
Nicholas stared back at her, going deathly pale.
“How do you have these?” Marion asked, too shocked to even be upset.
He said nothing, but his eyes darted towards the door, again. Instead of gloating about his theft, she had the distinct impression he was gauging the wisdom of fleeing into the night. The next second, he was staring at the floor. Two seconds later, a spot somewhere to the left of her. It was like he felt trapped and didn’t know what to do. She’d known Nicholas for so long, but this was the first time she’d ever seen him nervous.
Maybe this was the first time she’d ever seen him, at all.
“Answer me.” Marion snapped. Now the anger was coming. “Did you steal these from Robin?”
“No.” Nicholas stopped contemplating retreat and drew himself up. She saw him take a deep breath, like he anticipated a battle. Which was a real good guess. “Hood never even read them.”
Her head tilted, her heart beating too fast. “When did you get them?” Asking him “why” he got them would’ve been more logical, but “when” would tell her so much more.
He seemed to know it, too, because he didn’t want to answer. “What does it matter…?”
“When, Nick?”
His jaw clenched at the nickname. “During the war.” He admitted reluctantly. “When they arrived at whatever camp we were stationed at.”
He’d had them all this time? He’d kept them right beside his bed? Marion’s mind was whirling. “I poured my heart and soul out in these letters.” She pointed to her chest. “They were meant for my True Love.”
“I know.”
“Thoughts and dreams and things I told no one else, I wrote in them.” Embarrassment and confusion were filling her, now. “And you read them all? You’re the one who opened them?”
“Most of them.”
All but the first three. She knew that instinctively. “But you didn’t steal them?”
“No.”
She thought for a beat. In conversations with Nicholas, you had to fill-in-the-blanks a lot. “Robin threw them away.” It wasn’t a guess.
Nicholas ran a hand through his hair and stayed silent. Clearly, he’d rather eat rat poison than discuss this.
“Tell me!” It was the first time she’d truly raged at anyone. It didn’t feel half as bad as she’d expected, so she decided to keep going. She got to her feet, grabbing a porcelain lamp off the nightstand and pegged it at his huge body. “Tell me, right now, damn it!”
Nicholas shifted out of the lamp’s path with no difficulty, so she decided to heave the matching one at him, too.
Unfortunately, the housekeeper had just been coming in with a tray of food. She yelped as the lamp crashed into the doorframe, right next to her. The tray fell to the floor in a cacophony of cups and saucers, and Mrs. Gisborn retreated in a flurry of gray skirts. Crap. Guyla Gisborn was a notorious gossip and she’d never liked Marion. Soon, everyone in the kingdom would hear that Marion was a loud, violent shrew and Robin was lucky to be free of her.
Marion didn’t care.
She suddenly didn’t care what anyone said about her. Let them all talk. What was the worst that could happen? She didn’t need to worry about being a pristine Maid, or Robin’s destined bride, or hosting civilized luncheons for the Nottingham Garden Club. There was no going back to that destiny, now.
The revelation brought a strange sense of freedom.
She headed for Nicholas’ desk, in search of more projectiles.
“Hood wasn’t interested in reading your mail.” Nicholas admitted, also ignoring the housekeeper and the inevitable tales she’d spread. “He was too busy with other… pursuits.”
Marion paused, a reading lamp aimed and ready. “Robin cheated on me?” If her heart hadn’t already been shattered, that probably would have hurt.
He said nothing, which meant “yes.”
Sadly, Marion wasn’t surprised to learn that news. Robin had only answered one of her letters, in all the time he’d been away. She’d been touched by his poetic note. Truly moved. But, on some level, Marion had still suspected that Robin wasn’t fully devoted to her. She just hadn’t been able to admit it, because she’d been blinded by her childish love for the jackass.
“I saw Hood dispose of some of your letters.” Nicholas went on. He sent the reading lamp a wary look, ready to dodge if she hurled it at him. “I started fishing them out of the trash and opening them, just to see what you wrote to the man you loved. I wanted to know what it was like to have someone like you… care.”
Marion set the lamp down. For now. “No one wrote to you?”
“Of course not. Who would write to a gargoyle? We aren’t even really real.”
She refused to be distracted by that nonsense. “Even if you were lonely, it didn’t give you the right to take my letters, Nick.” It embarrassed her to know that he’d read things she’d never even said out loud. Things about her mother. Things about her hopes for the future. Things about her frustrations with her place in the world. Even innocuous things, like her love of strawberries and ideas for her birthday party. All of her thoughts and dreams and secrets were on those pages and he’d stolen them. “Did you steal other people’s mail?”
“No.” Nicholas scoffed, like that idea was insane. “Fuck other people. Fuck ‘em all.”
“Wonderful attitude.”
“Glad you like it, since it’s my family motto. Invented by me, because it’s true. They told me I had no purpose, Marion. No place to belong. But I do.” He sounded sure of that, in the way only Nicholas could. Rock-hard, inflexible, and ready to fight. “So, I don’t care what anyone else has to say, in person or on paper.” He began to pace, restless with her questions. “It’s always just been you.”
“So, you did all this just to laugh at me, then?” She surmised. “Fuck me, too, I guess. Along with all the rest of them. Is that it?”
That accusation caught him off guard, as did her swearing. “No! I would never laugh at you. I’m trying to tell you… I’ve always thought…” He trailed off with a sigh, looking frustrated with himself for not being more articulate. “You’re my favorite person in the world.”
