Seducing the Sheriff of Nottingham, page 7
part #5 of A Kinda Fairytale Series
With an engagement comes betrothal rights.
His head tilted. “Didn’t I tell you I was going to start acting like your betrothed, if you left your room today?” He asked abruptly.
“You did.” The pulse in her neck sped up, even as her eyes stayed level. “But, these days, I’m very Bad at obeying… Even when I know I’m going to be punished for it.” She gave a teasing grin that invited all sorts of wonderfully dirty interpretations.
Every drop of blood in his body pooled southward.
Marion’s smile grew wider, seeing that she’d just stunned him into a trance.
Nicholas shook his head, trying to clear it. What was she doing? He didn’t understand her trap, but he knew it was all around him. There was no other explanation. “Are you wearing a wire?” He abruptly demanded.
“A wire?” She chortled. “Lord, you watch way too much TV.”
“There are no TVs in Nottingham.”
“Aw fuck. I forgot about that, too. Even the prison has television sets.” She sighed in dismay. “I guess it doesn’t matter. Everything will be a rerun for me, anyhow.”
Nicholas refused to get distracted. “Are you recording me, as some kind of undercover shit?” He persisted. It didn’t make any sense, but it was the only thing he could think of.
“That’s the dumbest thing I ever heard and I did time with a leprechaun who only talked in limericks.” She shuddered. “God, I was so happy when Trevelyan ate him.”
Nicholas refused to back down. “Did Hood put you up to this plan?” Maybe she was lying about their “falling out,” after all.
“When did Robin ever have a plan that didn’t involve an arrow?” Marion rolled her eyes. “No, this is all me. You can tell because it’s working and because no one is dressed in leaves.”
Nicholas stood up. “Come here.”
Marion’s smug expression dimmed a bit, but she got to her feet. “You’re being paranoid about all the wrong things. I haven’t spoken to Robin since right after my trial. I think he put some gold in my commissary account at the prison, but he told me that we…”
Nicholas cut her off. “Face the table.” He spun her around, nudging her legs apart with his boot.
Marion’s hands went flat on the tabletop for support. “Hang on. You can’t…”
“I can. I’m the sheriff of this kingdom. Who’s going to stop me?”
“Shall I call my lawyer? Not that the bitch did me much good last time.”
Nicholas disregarded that legal analysis. Despite his words, he was trying to keep his hands light and professional, as he searched her. He was actually a little proud of himself. Marion was bent over the table in front of him and he had the right to do all kinds of nefarious things to her pretty little body. But he was resisting temptation…
Until he got to her torso, anyway.
His thumbs brushed the undersides of her spectacular breasts and he stopped. If he went any farther, he was going to be crossing a line he couldn’t uncross. He knew it as surely as he’d ever known anything.
Marion looked up at him, her face flushed and her eyes bright. “I could have a microphone stuffed in my bra.” She reported and it sounded like a dare. “I’m a D cup. There’s plenty of room in there.”
Nicholas felt his fingers moved upward, like they were drawn by a magnet.
No.
He yanked his hands away, before they made contact. Marion was tricking him somehow. He thought in straight lines, while her brain zigzagged all over the place. It was impossible for a purposeless, predictable, passionless man to keep up with her, but he was sure as hell smart enough to know she was scheming. Marion wasn’t doing this because she wanted him so damn much, that much was certain.
Not like he wanted her.
Nicholas swallowed. God, he’d wanted her for so long. Her mind and feelings and body and smile. He wanted all of her. It really was an obsession. He thought about Marion every minute of the day. He’d memorized her schedule, so he could stand by the castle windows and see her go by. He knew which shops she visited and what she bought. Which books she checked out of the library, so he could read them, too. He even knew what color her goddamn toothbrush was.
Marion was everything to him.
Nicholas flattened his palms on the table next to Marion’s, looming over her, her back to his front. He stood there for a beat, breathing hard, trying to stay in control. If she had some kind of recording device in her blouse, it would just have to stay there. No way was he looking for it. There was only so much a man could take without cracking.
Marion didn’t try to push him away. Instead, she sighed, almost apologetically. “Sorry, I’m…” She swallowed. “I don’t mean to pressure you, Nick.”
His heart flipped at the shortened form of his name. She was the only one who’d ever called him that. He’d told her she could, back when they were children. It shocked him that she still remembered. Why would she?
“Is it Robin?” She guessed. “Is that why you’re feeling hesitant about touching me? Because I promise I’m not pining after that douchebag.” She shook her head. “You don’t come back from the kind of falling out we had.”
“He’s your True Love.” Nicholas forced the words out. “You’ll forgive him for whatever he’s done.”
No gargoyle had ever found a True Love, as far as he knew. Few even bothered to look. Caring for a mate gave you a purpose and his kind were eternally purposeless. It was part of their enspelled DNA, according to Nottingham’s scientists. Nicholas longed for a purpose, beyond serving the moronic king. Something bigger.
Something his.
His mother had assured him he’d find it, but Gepetta had been too optimistic about the world. She’d told him if he committed himself to something, with his whole heart and soul, he’d inevitably find his purpose. But Nicholas had set goals and reached them, again and again. He’d thrown himself into rising through the gargoyle ranks, pressing forward with sheer determination and plowing down everything that got in his way. No one could’ve been more committed than he was. Now, he was as high as anybody could go in Nottingham and it was still empty.
Meanwhile, Hood had just been handed everything Nicholas had ever wanted on a silver platter. God, he seriously hated that asshole.
“I’ll never forgive Robin.” Marion shrugged with total finality. “If you don’t want me, I’ll find someone else. But, never him. I’m going to experience everything that I missed, which includes sex, so…”
“No one else!” Nicholas interrupted loudly. “Are you out of your mind? You agreed to marry me, last night. No one else is allowed to touch you, Marion. Legally, you’re already mine.”
He wasn’t sure why he said all that and he was even less sure why she didn’t argue.
Instead, she tilted her head, in feminine challenge.
Nicholas stared back, his chest heaving. …And for an endless moment, everything went still. Whatever feeble barriers he’d been able to construct inside of himself cracked open. That was all it took. Holding back from Marion was impossible, when she was pushing closer. He might as well try to stop the rising tide with a mop.
Guyla Gisborn, the castle’s middle-aged housekeeper, came in with a fresh pot of coffee, only to stop dead in the doorway. Nicholas was still positioned behind Marion, his large body pressed up against her in ways no decent woman would allow with a gargoyle and a Maid wouldn’t allow with anyone.
Unless he was her very demanding new fiancé.
“Leave.” Nicholas told the housekeeper, barely looking her way. His voice was deeper than usual.
Guyla fled in terror and glee. The woman was a bigger gossip than Nottingham’s Naughtiest News, so she was no doubt eager to spread this tale. Within ten minutes, the whole kingdom would hear that the sheriff had already begun exerting his betrothal rights on Maid Marion. The thought gave him a hot surge of possession.
“At least this time she won’t have to lie about seeing us together, the miserable hag.” Marion muttered.
Nicholas had no idea what that meant.
Instead of explaining, Marion arched a brow. “So, are you done searching me for secret wires?”
“What…? Oh. Yes.” Nicholas stepped back from her and ran a hand through his hair. There were no microphones on her body. Just acres of flawless curves. “You’re clean.”
“For now.” Another impish grin shined his way.
Nicholas blinked. The-One-And-Fucking-Only-Marion had somehow been released from her Maidenly shell and she was blindingly bright. He forced himself to look away and head back to his seat. What the hell was happening here?
Marion made a face at his brooding silence. “Why would I hide listening devices on my body, anyway? You barely say anything. What could I possibly record?”
“I’ve talked to you more than I’ve ever talked to anyone else.” With her, words just poured out of him. It had always been that way. It was why he should avoid her. It was why it was so damn hard to avoid her.
Marion stared at him. “Do you?”
He grunted.
“Why do you think that is?”
“I have no idea.” But he unconsciously rubbed the spot where his mother’s ring had once hung around his neck.
Marion looked pleased with that grumbled reply. “Okay.” She sat down again, only now her chair seemed even closer to him. Was her chair closer to him?
Nicholas’ frown deepened. “Hood won’t like that you said ‘yes’ to this engagement, you know.” Since intimidating her was useless, he gave up even trying and went with another plan. Maybe the reality of this situation would begin to sink in, if he mentioned her moronic boyfriend enough. Maybe Marion would start behaving like he’d expected her to behave and he could regain some functioning brain cells. “When he sees that you actually agreed to marry me, he’s going to explode.”
“I’ll bet my virtue that he doesn’t.”
Nicholas’ eyebrows rose. Maids didn’t make wagers like that, even in jest. Their virtue was too valuable. “Deal.” He heard himself say a little too swiftly. “I’ll take that bet.”
Marion looked at him in surprise. “I can predict the future, Nick. For real, Robin’s not going to care.”
“He’ll care. …Unless this is all some plot you two are perpetrating.”
She forked up a bite of waffle. “Robin doesn’t care enough about me or my opinions to ‘plot’ with me.” She chewed her breakfast, like she relished the taste. “Maybe that’s why I got engaged to you, snickerdoodle.”
“You’re trying to make him jealous? With me?” He scoffed at that idea. No one in the world would ever think that Marion would prefer Nicholas to Robin Hood. Especially not Nicholas and especially not Hood himself.
She considered him thoughtfully. “No, I’m not trying to make him jealous. I don’t think I even could and I don’t care enough to try. I don’t want him to want me. That’s not what this is about. I was over that asshat before I even got to jail.”
Nicholas searched for a response to that and came up empty.
“Mostly Robin is in that ‘ex-boyfriend space,’ where you forget he exists for months at a time and then suddenly you remember and you’re embarrassed all over again that you ever liked him, in the first place.” Rather than pour herself a cup of coffee, she reached over to take Nicholas’ mug. “But he fucked me over and no one fucks me over and gets away with it. Not anymore. Now, I’m just wrecking his life for the hell of it.” She gave a nonchalant shrug.
He watched her drink from his cup saying nothing.
Marion’s head tilted. “Are you going to be disappointed when you don’t get under his skin with this silly plan?” She gestured towards the newspaper.
“I’m going to hang the man.” Nicholas murmured, his gaze tracing all over her face. He could do nothing but stare at her for hours and never get bored. “It doesn’t matter if it gets under his skin or not, because he’ll be dead.”
“You’ll have to catch him, first.” She sipped his coffee, pink lips on the rim that his own mouth had touched, her beautiful eyes shining with razor-sharp ideas. “You sure you don’t want to team up with me, so we can do that together?”
Chapter Six
Maid Marion Moves On!
Robin Hood’s former flame has cast him aside in favor of Nottingham’s most infamous gargoyle and it seems like she couldn’t be happier. The newly engaged couple was spotted out and about today, planning their nuptials. Maybe Sherwood’s favorite bandit spent a little too much time polishing his own bow and left his lovely lady aching for the long arm of the law.
Alan A. Dale- “Nottingham’s Naughtiest News”
Friar Tuck had always been a prick.
“Of course this is all highly unusual, sheriff.” He anxiously watched Nicholas and the other gargoyle guardsmen inspect the church. Blue and gold uniforms circled the building like hungry sharks looking for prey. “I don’t know what you hope to find. This is a place of worship, after all.”
Nicholas shot him a dark look, not bothering to respond. It was like the man only had a certain number of words to say each day and so he didn’t like to waste them on anyone other than Marion.
He’d been telling the truth earlier. He really did talk to her more than anyone else. Mostly, he complained at her and doubted her, but he was still speaking. That was a great sign for their partnership.
Inside the pocket of her stolen pants, she carried the hideous necklace Tansy had given her. Its magic was gone now, but she liked having it close. It felt like a good luck charm. She absently ran her fingers across the talisman. She would need all the luck she could get to seduce her surly groom.
“Nick wants to find all the ways Robin can sneak into the church.” Marion told Tuck, willing to lend Nicholas a hand, even though he was still refusing to listen to her about Robin. He’d completely shot down her offer to team up over breakfast. Sooner or later, he’d come around, though. And in the meantime, the quicker he searched the cathedral, the quicker they could leave. “Did you ever seal up that tunnel in the basement?”
Tuck’s eyes went wide in horror.
Nicholas glanced down at her in surprise.
Marion shrugged and blew a bubble with the gum she was chewing. “There’s a tunnel in the basement.” She told him casually. Robin had tunnels and secret passages everywhere.
Several of the gargoyles exchanged confused glances, surprised by her willingness to switch teams. She was pretty sure none of them were behind Nicholas’ murder. She’d been carefully watching them all morning and they seemed to idolize the man.
Nicholas glanced over at the closest one. “Oore, search the basement.” He ordered.
“South wall.” Marion called helpfully, as the guard rushed off to look. “Behind the wine racks.”
That sent Tuck off on another jabbering rant about how he barely even knew Robin and how he never went into the basement, so he had no clue what kind of tunnels were down there, and how this was all highly unusual, and how blah, blah, blah…
Marion tuned out the nut-sack’s rambling and looked around the interior of Nottingham’s cathedral. It looked the same. The ornamental stone, and the stained glass, and the two tiers of ancient pews. It could have been a thousand other churches, in a thousand other lands.
Only this one was where she’d been publically humiliated.
Being back in the grand space wasn’t traumatic, exactly. But the cathedral certainly wasn’t on her Top Ten list of sentimental spots to revisit. All she wanted to do was figure out who was going to kill Nicholas and get the hell out of Nottingham for good.
And a cigarette. She wanted a cigarette.
That was all muscle memory, though, not an actual nicotine craving. Marion hadn’t started smoking until six months after her conviction. At the time, lung cancer had seemed like a viable long-term escape plan. But now that she had a reason to live, it wasn’t such a great choice. That knowledge did nothing to cut the cravings. After chain-smoking for a decade, it felt weird not to have a cigarette in her mouth.
Marion was making due with gum and watching Nicholas prowl around. He was even more handsome in the daylight. How in the hell had she missed that the first time through? Robin really had been a pestilence in her mind. Now that she was cured, everything looked different. Better. Her eyes drifted up Nicholas’ large body.
Really, really better.
Her “unhealthy fixation” with the man told her to drag him off somewhere and ravish him. Then, set up cameras to watch him all day, so he could never escape or get hurt, again. And maybe steal his stuff and build a little shrine.
Huh.
Okay. That was going a little too far towards the brink of madness. Fine. Whatever. No shrine. That pontificating bitch, Doctor Ramona, would be very proud at her restraint.
Marion wasn’t done with the “evidence gathering” phase of her courtship anyway, so there was time for her stalking-him-until-she-died instincts to calm down. A girl couldn’t be too careful, after all. She wasn’t ready to fully trust Nicholas, yet. So far, though, things were going more really, really better than she’d ever imagined. And ten years behind bars left lots of time for imagining. She kept telling herself to slow down, but it was hard not to throw caution to the wind and just tell Nicholas everything.
“We need to triple the security, all along the balconies.” Rockwell, the gargoyle guardsman, told Nicholas, gesturing up at the top row of pews. He was an older man. His stony skin was cracked in places, like the rock he’d been carved from was flawed from the beginning and just grew worse with age. “Robin Hood could try and come in through the roof.”
Nicholas nodded.
“Robin’s not coming in through the roof.” Marion assured them, for the millionth time. “He’s not coming, at all.”
Nicholas ignored that, for the millionth time.
“We should put men in the alleyway, as well.” Rockwell went on, shooting Marion a wary glance. He didn’t seem to know what to make of her shifting allegiances. “It runs behind the cathedral and Hood might be able to sneak in that way.”
