“Is it over?” he murmured to me. “Is it really over?”
Tears rose up and my throat went tight. I pulled back to look him in the eye. “You’re sheriff. The people have nothing to fear.”
Our faces swayed closer, and I shivered again. I would never have this, the right to kiss him in public.
We didn’t kiss, but a faster tune began, and Rob took my good hand. “Please dance with me.”
“I never learned the fancy dances,” I told him, frowning.
“I don’t care how we do it,” he said with a grin. “I just want you in my arms.”
He tugged me along to where a throng of common folk were dancing, and, careful to tuck my hurt hand up on his shoulder, he pulled me in close. We danced along with them, jumping and stepping fast and foolish. My short, funny hair flew about my face, and my heart beat as fast as my laughter, all the while I stared into Rob’s eyes.
He slowed down and pulled me out of the thick of the leaping throngs, dancing closer, rubbing his cheek along mine. “Marry me when the sun sets,” he breathed.
I raised my head a little. “What?”
“If your marriage is annulled when the prince leaves tomorrow morning, marry me by sunset. I can’t wait longer, Scarlet, I don’t have it in me. I have missed you every minute, and I don’t want to see another sunrise without you as my wife.”
My heart broke, and water spilled out of my eyes. “What if it’s not annulled?” I breathed.
“Then I’ll wait. Every sunset, every day. I’ll count them all until you’re mine. My perfect wife. My only wife,” he said. “The only heart that’s meant for mine.” His nose dragged on my face. “I only feel like a hero when you’re with me, Scarlet. I feel like I have a destiny greater than pain and hurt when you’re in my arms.”
I tugged him closer, tucking my head into the bend of his neck to wipe my tears on him. “Me too,” I said.
“Scarlet.”
“Mmm.”
“That was me asking you to marry me, you know.”
My eyes pressed shut. “Yes,” I whispered. “That’s all I want.”
“Oh, hell,” someone said, and I looked up to see Winchester standing behind Rob. Rob turned and I wiped my face overquick. “I’m trying to wait, but I have to accuse Lady Leaford of hoarding you, Sheriff,” he said.
Rob held me tucked under one arm, and bowed his head. “Your Grace,” he greeted.
Winchester looked more like a boy than I’d ever seen him. He gripped Rob’s shoulder and shook a little, laughing. “Your Grace! Do you know how odd it is to not be able to say that back to you? Though I’ll much prefer it to the names you were calling me when the healer was working on you.”
Rob winced. “He told you that?”
Winchester shrugged. “I’ve been called worse. You did very well today, Locksley. The master at arms would have been proud.”
“Master at arms?” I questioned.
“That’s how we know each other,” Rob told me. “We were pages together for a time.”
Glimpsing the regal tilt of Eleanor’s head, I slipped out from Rob’s arm. “Well, you two should talk.” I smiled at Rob. “I’ll find you.”
He smiled back at me, fingers dragging along my hand as I let him go. Winchester kissed my hand, and I went to find Eleanor.
She weren’t where I had seen her. Instead Isabel were there, frowning at me. “Lady Leaford,” she said.
“Your Highness,” I said, nodding my head to her.
“Eleanor has called for you. She went to say good night to my husband but asked you to escort her back to her rooms.”
I looked to the royal table, where Eleanor stood beside Prince John.
“That was a disgusting display this afternoon,” she told me, folding her arms. “You may as well have spat in Guy’s face.”
My eyes drifted shut and I shook my head. “Excuse me, your Highness.”
I went to the side of the royal table and waited. Eleanor nodded to me and came closer, and I curtsied low to her. “Up, up, my dear,” she told me. I stood, and she twined our arms together, clasping my hand. “Come,” she said. “You shall walk me to my rooms and ask me your many questions.”
Dumb, I stared at her.
“You do have questions, don’t you?”
“Most that I’m frightened to ask,” I said.
She laughed. “Fear. Something I have yet to see from you, Lady Leaford.”
“That title’s not mine, is it?”
She drew in a breath, and it made her look older as we moved into the dark hallway, lit by torches and moon. “No. The lord and lady Leaford are not your natural parents.”
“Who are?”
“A very beautiful blacksmith’s daughter, and my son. King Richard the Lionhearted.”
I stared at her, her proud chin, her white neck, her clear, steady blue gaze. The moon made her pale skin look like she belonged to the other world. “I’m your granddaughter.”
Her fingers squeezed mine. “You are.”
“But Prince John—he hates me.”
Her eyebrow arched high. “Well. My children cleave very close or hate very powerfully. It’s only because Richard teased him so as a child. It isn’t your fault.”
“How does he know who I am, and I don’t?”
She sighed. “He was near when it happened. Terrible penchant for eavesdropping, that boy. He knew it all from the start.”
“Why did he send Gisbourne to marry me?”
“Because my John controlled Isabel, and since he was very young, Gisbourne loved Isabel. He never had the status to marry her, of course, and when she married, Gisbourne followed her. And John took full advantage of such a connection. You see, Richard was never meant to inherit the throne. He had two older brothers, but death befell them both. When Richard was crowned, John wasn’t happy—he and Richard hardly got along. John knew about you—he wanted some way to control his brother, even a small one. So he ordered Gisbourne to marry you. John is many terrible things, but he is a master manipulator.”
“That’s no good thing,” I told her.
Her head tilted. “It can be. A king must see not just the hills before him, but the length of the road at large. John can see many roads at once; he understands how long it can take to achieve a goal. When he has a good heart, he can be a masterful ruler. But without it, impatience and selfishness cause him to use his gifts poorly.”