Page 7 of An Earl for the Archeress

Robert watched the mysterious woman disappear and tried to make chase, but his men-at-arms surrounded him with congratulatory slaps. And the women… Lord! The tittering women! He couldn’t be rude to his subjects and guests, but could they not leave him be? And Lady Anna, of course, cousin to his own cousin, Will Scarlet, had arrived at Huntington the sennight previously to attend the tourney, attaching herself to him like a lover. He had proven to be woefully terrible at shaking her off.

If he was not mistaken, “Elmer” had noticed Lady Anna’s antics, too, and he found the hurt that spread on her brow to be curious, similar to the hurt she had shown when he teased her about the whores. For some reason, he didn’t like how her look of hurt made him feel.

He had little interest in the other women’s favors and compliments. He indulged them with a wink or a flirt, but contrary to what they vied for—a chance to lie abed with him—he seldom offered. And no matter how much King Richard had pressured him to enter a betrothal to one of the ladies from the other strong English earldoms, he had resisted. Until it was a royal demand, Robert would be damned if he would get trapped in marriage to one of the court’s demure and mindless maidens. Marriage carried with it sanctity to honor one woman for the rest of his days, or hers, and such a solemn vow was not given cheaply—by him, at least.

Yet he was intrigued with “Elmer.” There was a hardiness and resilience about her that he liked. Unconventional, for certain. A survivor. And yet something elegant and refined in the way she carried herself, though he was certain she did her best to hide it. Something fueled her ruse. Something serious enough it compelled her to win no matter the cost. A cruel father? Husband? Her family’s title being stripped? She had, in fact, worn a gown and coif barely denoting her as a noble, which could mean she hailed from a low ranking barony or perhaps a fallen noble with no more land or title. But she needed the money like she needed air, ’twas obvious.

And he had more wealth than he could ever count, an arbitrary figure written in a ledger, for the vaults housing his riches would take sennights to count by hand. The woman was starving, that much was clear. She was thin, not just slender. And he had just secured the entire forty shillings for himself. Forty-one, actually, thanks to Wesley stealing her final coin. ’Twas unfair and it bothered him.

But as he peeled away from the merrymakers and searched the encampment, there was no sign of “Elmer.” She seemed to have vanished, just like the thieves now plaguing the forests. Interesting. Phantoms, he had heard Nottingham label them after the man had been robbed of all his travel money—money ill-gotten from robbing innocents, Robert reminded himself. She would fit in well with that band of misfits.

He went to the stables as twilight settled in, and the groom confirmed that yes, the diminutive archer had collected his horse and departed northward toward the trees “Elmer” had taken her packs to earlier, no doubt to disguise herself. She had done a fine job, too, for she had looked like a lad. But all he could keep thinking about now was how a young woman became more skilled than a master archer. That, and what did her honey-blonde hair look like unbound and flowing? He had seen her beauty beneath the smudges of dirt, her moss-colored eyes assessing him.

He jogged to the outskirts of camp and found the spot she had likely used as her dressing chamber. But there was no sign of her except for a ribbon, which he recalled had been tied to her wrist. He pulled it from beneath a decaying log. It was faded, dirty with road dust, but had once probably been soft pink like a rose petal. He rubbed a thumb over it, thinking it was a favor he actually would have liked to have worn today, then he smiled at the preposterousness of it all. The one woman to snag his interests was a phantom, not even real, it seemed, and he returned to the tournament.

He crossed paths with Jonathan, his first in command and a huge fellow, lingering near the archery tent along the periphery of the market.

“Do you await a lady friend?” Robert grinned, slapping him on the shoulder, for the man appeared to have pained himself to look presentable, and didn’t he know John’s reputation with the fairer sex.

Though they stood nearly at the same height, a good six feet and six inches, Jonathan was a hint taller and filled out with muscle like an ox.

“Indeed, Robert. I was supposed to meet that pretty maid who came to enter her brother into the archery contest. But she has stood me up, it seems. I haven’t seen a sign of her since.”

That idea didn’t sit well with Robert. Why, he could not say, but he knew how charming John could be and blast it, but he had been thinking of the woman himself all bloody day. She had indeed caused him a good mystery, and staying focused on the contest had taken effort he’d never had to use before. He had wanted to keep looking at her, examine her form, examine how she constructed her fletching, and study her accoutrements, all of her accoutrements. She had potential in his employ and in his life. He wanted to know more about her and certainly didn’t want John, with his fair face and straight teeth, to know more than he did. But the woman in question was gone. So it mattered not. He sighed.

“Ah, it seems we are looking for the same woman. I wished to congratulate her brother for his stiff competition and give him this purse of winnings, for he needed it more than I,” he remarked. “But alas, the lad departed after the contest, so it’s fair to assume she went with him.”

John looked disappointed, and as the two parted ways, Robert ignored more of the same empty compliments bestowed upon him by the unmarried maids, the men who wished to have his favor, and his subjects. He saw Lady Anna eyeing him from a cluster of other ladies and detoured in the opposite direction. Anna’s flirtations were amusing, yet they made him uncomfortable now. He had a purse of coins in his pocket that made no difference to his financial status, while a young wisp of a woman was hungry and unaccompanied in his woods, a prime target for an attack or a rape by vagabonds.

He rolled his shoulders to release some tension. He should have thrown the competition to her favor, though he sensed that handing her a win would have insulted her and he was always sportsmanlike. Yet he hated seeing people suffer and made a point to welcome in the poor hungry souls who showed up at his castle gates thanks to Nottingham’s evictions, unlike his recently deceased father who had been notorious for snubbing his nose at the less fortunate. And retraining his soldiers and guards to do the same had been a challenge, though the Huntington guard was a loyal sort he had found he could trust. Using force was the method his father had blessed, but Jonathan understood the changes Robert was bringing about and wielded his influence successfully over the other men. As the new earl, Robert would gladly have given “Elmer” aid.

As the tournament drew to a close two days later, after he had assisted his staff in seeing that the stands and tents were packed, the grounds were cleared, and his artisans’ goods were prepared for transport, he rode for home alone. He reached inside his coat to reassure himself that the ribbon from the woods was still against his chest. Each day he had tried to shake the thought of her and each night he had combed the woods for a sign of her, but the phantom, Elmer—he smiled—had left no trace at all.

Chapter Three

Mariel had just shot a hare and carried the dead animal by its hind legs as she returned to her camp. This area of forest was thick with trees, inky black. The sun had also disappeared, which mattered little beneath the canopy, for it seemed perpetually dark within. But that was all right. Two days after her humiliating defeat, she welcomed the blackness swallowing her.

She squatted beside a rock that made a good workstation and slapped the animal down. Removing a dagger from her trousers, she set to butchering it. “So the stealing of game has begun,” she said wryly.

Her stomach was beyond protesting. Aside from some edible berries she had scavenged the day before, her horse had succeeded in scaring away all small game. Yet killing a deer was illegal, and she had neither the resources nor the ability to prepare and consume a large animal, anyway. Not to mention, it was easy to dispose of a small hare carcass, but a deer was bigger and might tip off this landowner, whoever he was, to a game thief, should one of his guardsmen come upon it.

And guardsmen were most certainly patrolling. She had succeeded in eluding two different parties while watching their metal and lumbering horses blink between the trees as she hid, waiting for them to pass. With the English nobles increasing their patrols, thanks to the recent thieving, they would likely find an unauthorized butchered carcass.

But Lord, her stomach ached! She stared down at her handiwork, filleting the fur off the creature, and contemplated eating a few raw bites. But, having now built a fire, she skewered it on a stick propped on two rocks fashioned over the flame. The smell of the meat promised the most delicious meal she could imagine. Hunger did that, made a plain hare taste like buttery delicacies. Her saliva ran, anticipating the taste, with her horse tethered to the tree behind her. The animal shifted and grunted, and too lost in her anticipation for food, Mariel didn’t react quickly enough to the sword that now prodded her back.

“Stand up,” demanded a man.

She did so, turning to see a contingent of soldiers. How on earth had a dozen armed men managed to sneak up on her without her sensing it?

“What be your business trespassing on the Earl of Huntington’s lands?”

So these woods belonged to that overconfident man with hazel eyes and wavy brown hair. She saw the Huntington blazon on their clothing now. Why must this situation go from bad to worse? The last person she wanted to see again was that arrogant philanderer who had swiped forty shillings from her because of a hair’s breadth difference in arrows.

“Well? Speak up, lad.”

“I didn’t realize I was on anyone’s land,” she lied.

The guard scoffed. “You’re always on someone’s land.”