Page 35 of An Earl for the Archeress

She slammed her goblet down and turned to leave, when Robert laughed, garnering a chuckle from the men. “I told you so,” he told them.

“Told them what?” she demanded, rounding back to the table.

“That you’re spirited,” Robert said.

She frowned at him. “You would crawl under my skin for no reason?”

He smiled a cheeky grin and leaned down to her ear. “Indeed, my lady, I was just under a blanket with you the night before last. I fear I’m already under your skin.”

Her face heated, and he chuckled, for a whisper in this silent chamber was about as quiet as a barker’s call at a fair. And now, she noted, while his other men chuckled, it was Jonathan who scowled. Lovely. She rolled her eyes. Was she supposed to be a spoil for both men to argue over? She spun on her heel, marching toward the door again.

“I only tease!” he called, jogging to her and blocking her path. He skipped backward to continue his obstruction as she attempted to plow around him, when he caught her arms.

“Let me go!” she snapped.

“I only tease, Lady,” he said more calmly.

“Nay, you embarrass me and call into question my propriety.”

“Come now, men can be bawdy, and I’d like to think, that is, after this meeting, that you might be one of us.”

“Be like one of you? Be like a man? Lord, your impression of me is horrid, if you consider me thus.”

He laughed again, as did the others. “My good men”—Robert turned to them, spinning her with him by wrenching her hand, addressing them all—“let it be known that I only tease Elmer, and that I, in fact, did not seduce her as I implied.”

“That’s it,” she grumbled, her face flushing once again and she pivoted toward the door.

“Stop,” he said, throwing his arms wide and bracing the door behind him.

“Your men are bawdy? That’s nay bawdy. You act like a wee, immature eejit, nay a man.”

“Mariel,” he breathed, so silently even she could barely hear. “Laugh with us. Stay with us. I pray you. Relax and smile. You’re safe here.”

The suddenly genuine expression on his brow stayed her hand on the latch. “How so?” she asked. “You either want me, or you want my archery skill for some purpose. For no matter how many times I attempt to leave, you continue to stop me. And I hardly think you wish to keep me around because I would make such an agreeable woman.”

“All jesting aside, my dear one,” he emphasized, “your father has plans to…let’s just say you’re not as safe at large as you once thought. I wish to harbor you, and if I may be so selfish, to hold on to the woman a little longer who has piqued my interest.”

“He plans to what?” she countered, ignoring his heartfelt sentiment and popping a hip while folding her arms across her chest. Mention of her father in such a tone did nothing but stand the hairs on her arms on end.

“Later. I’ll explain later. Come. You’re the other archer I need, and after I tell you about my meeting with your father, I think you’ll see I try to keep you from leaving for both reasons: because I want you to stay and your skills would benefit us all.”

After a moment of angry contemplation, she let him lead her, albeit unwillingly, back to the table. She grabbed her goblet of wine and threw back the contents in its entirety to calm her embarrassment, only realizing moments later that all of them, including Robert, stared at her lack of decorum.

“What?” She shrugged. “I have thirst.”

“As I was saying before,” Robert said, suppressing his grin, “I have need of one more marksman, and the right person is finally presented, in this case, a markswoman.” Addressing her now, he continued. “What you see here are my most trusted men. Jonathan, though he be my head guardsman, owned land and title until our lovely Sheriff of Nottingham saw fit to strip him of all claim and commandeer his manor. Nottingham increased his taxes to support the Crusade, but in fact, we knew he simply wanted Jonathan’s land, for it is a lush and prosperous estate with partial control of the River Trent, a waterway that is important for trade. Raising funds to support the war was merely an excuse to raise taxes, and John refused to pay. When John didn’t submit, Nottingham swooped in with a force of men and took over, stripping John of all hereditary claim. That wooden quarterstaff of his is never far from hand, as you’ve surely noticed, and woe is the man unfortunate enough to be on the receiving end of it. Will, as I said, is my cousin and a cheeky swordsman. Alan is a friend from Carlisle whom I once helped and who has since sworn himself to help my cause. And David is mute, which makes him a great spy, since he is oft considered too daft to divulge secrets. Though daft, I assure you, he is not.”

She took it all in. Will, the cousin, she finally remembered. The tent had been dark at the archery contest, but nonetheless, she recalled him as one of the men who had laughed at her sense of humor. Alan seemed soft. Gentle. Not much of a fighter, with a thin, gangly frame and spindly fingers more suited to strumming a lute rather than swinging a weapon, and Jonathan, of course… She knew all about Jonathan, or “Little John,” as Robert had threatened to call him. Then there was David. Robert had said nothing at all about his origins.

“And all of you now know Elmer, who tied me in the tourney, and I’ll admit I’ve never been so surprised. As you may have suspected, our little archer hails from Scotland, though her identity is secret, and shall remain so.”

“Why do you gather your most trusted men?” Mariel asked, urging him to continue. To her irritation, he took his time sipping his wine, his perfectly messy hair hanging forward around his face. “And whilst we’re discussing it, why have I been invited to your council?”

“The supplies we hid in the forest? Beneath the leaves?” he prompted.

“What of them?”

“’Tis not exactly true that they are there for resupplying. I mean it is, but—”