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“Why are you helping me?” I asked.
“Because I know how unpleasant it is to be forced into things, lad. I suppose we read the situation—and your gaze—wrong. Thought we could do you a favor before putting you on the chopping block.”
I blinked with a sharp intake of breath. “The chopping block?!”
“Careful,” he said, chuckling, “your voice cracked. Don’t want to give yourself away now, do you?”
I clamped my mouth shut, fear taking hold of me. What does he mean by that? Does he know I’m a girl?
Oh God help me.
“Besides,” he said, winking this time, “I’m not helping you.” His chin dipped to the rope on the ground. “Assume the position, lad, so I can tie you up again.”
My face fell into a frown.
“Don’t pout.”
I did anyway.
As he tied the rope around my body, he said, “Perhaps that’s what I misread when looking over here.”
My brow pinched together. “What do you mean?”
He smirked mischievously. “It’s not what you saw that turned you on. It’s being tied up that did it for you.”
Chapter 18
Robin
My eyes fluttered open, grogginess making my mind hazy. My chin lifted from my chest, and I squinted against the sunlight bearing down on me.
It was morning. Already hot. I never knew a dozen men could make so much noise, yet at some point I must have managed to fall asleep.
I remained tied to the oak tree.
The clearing was mostly empty now, with only the aftermath of the Merry Men’s debauchery on display. Toppled barrels. Logs cut in two, as if the drunkards had ended up playing some sort of game with axes. Cracked branches and fallen leaves where I imagined shadowy bodies had fornicated in the woods.
A few stragglers slept next to the smoking remnants of the fire pits. One man had two women cuddled next to him, with coarse woolen blankets draped over their naked bodies.
There was no sign of my four captors.
I rested my head against the trunk, staring up at the canopies and the chirping birds. “How are you holding up, Uncle?” I asked. “Had any brilliant ideas to get us out of here?”
No response.
My forehead creased with wrinkles and worry. “Uncle?”
Again, nothing.
My heart froze in my chest. I struggled against the rope, the hemp biting into my wrists and torso. Snarling, I twisted and tried to crane my neck so I could see around the wide tree trunk.
I couldn’t see Uncle Gregory. Only a pile of rope on the ground.
A frightened gasp ripped from my throat. “Uncle!”
Terror took over, quickening my pulse. My eyes darted across the clearing, every which way, trying to find Gregory.
He wasn’t here. Not that I could see, anyway. Maybe the Merry Men let him have his own lewd time with a whore, somewhere hidden?
