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“I won’t rise to your bait, devil-slut,” I said.
She smiled and winked.
I left the alley as Maid Marian’s moans began, and the fleshy sounds of Tuck’s belly smacking into her ass joined the chorus and echoed through the corridor.
Chapter 9
Robin
Next morning, I popped out of bed by the time the sun cracked the horizon. By the time it showed its first warm smile, I’d wrapped my chest in a band to keep my breasts hidden—not that I had much to hide—and was in my leathers and pants.
Pulling my hood over my head, I looked in the mirror and saw the bruise on my cheek was well-set. It was a purplish-yellow mar just under my eyelid, puffy from where Father’s knuckle had struck me.
Leaving my room, I winced the first few steps. My stomach ached like a brick in my belly from where I’d taken his fist.
Yet I was still optimistic. Uncle Gregory had presented us a chance. I desperately clung to it. I was hoping this Wulfric fellow was a miracle-worker.
Call it naivety, or blissful ignorance, but I knew Father had a lot on his plate. I tried to stuff down my disdain for him and come at things anew this morning.
His wife was dying. Our financial affairs were in turmoil given Mama’s sickness. Her ailment didn’t stop the wheel of commerce—our textile production still went on despite her being bedridden. The workers didn’t get as much done without the taskmaster of my mother peering over their shoulders.
I bounded down the stairs with energy, trying not to let my physical pain show. Hearing my father’s voice in the foyer, I banked left and headed in that direction.
A claw wrapped around my heart and pulled when I walked into the airy room and saw he was speaking harshly to Emma. The girl had her head bowed, nodding with shame while he berated her.
Once he heard my footsteps shuffling in behind him, his ire shifted to me. He spun, anger contorting his face.
My stomach sank to my boots, all the hopeful, renewed energy of the morning washed away in an instant.
Father thrust a finger in my direction. “You think you’re so sneaky and cunning, don’t you, you little bitch?”
I reeled, head lurching back. “P-Pardon, sir?”
“I have eyes, girl. Even in Nottingham. A discerning young man arrived last night to tell me all about your little exploits in town. Said he spotted a thin lad playing vulgar games with the bottom feeders of society. He tried to rescue you from their grubby mitts, he said, but you spurned his aid.” His upper lip twitched, rage boiling.
My breath came shallow. The lordling from last night. That fucking worm! “Let me guess,” I said, unable to fend off my usual brazenness, “this bastion of hope was a tall nobleman with long blond hair?”
“His name is Peter, and he’s the noble son of the Fishers.” Father closed the gap between us. I had half a mind to bolt out the door I stood under, but I knew I’d only be prolonging the inevitable.
So I geared up for another beating. I knew this one would be bad, too, because I’d directly gone against his orders of staying in my room.
“What’s worse,” Father said, now mere feet from me, “is you were seen strolling through town with her!” He threw his hand back accusingly at Emma.
Baffled for the second time in as many minutes, I folded my arms over my chest. “So what if I was seen with Emma? Why are you embarrassed by her, Father?”
He shook his head like I was a fool for even asking, fingers pinching the bridge of his nose. “I’m not embarrassed by your mother’s handmaid, stupid girl. How can you be so dense? If you’re seen with the help, you’ll be associated with the help. The people will see you as the help! It destroys this house’s credibility. Why can’t you simply carry yourself like the heiress you’re meant to be?”
He began to unbuckle his belt, and I took a step back.
His eyes turned strangely helpless, brow arching. “Why must you continue to make me do this? Do you think I want to punish you?”
Every breath became a wheeze. My throat felt like it was closing, stealing all my air. “You don’t . . . have to, Father.”
“It’s the only thing that will make you learn your place, Robin.”
Lot of good it did last night, bastard.
“While you’re living under my roof, I can’t have you making a fool of your sire. The neighboring estates will think I’ve grown weak and lost control of this house.”
