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I flapped my hand vaguely toward the tent. “Exactly what Will wants to do—charge in and rescue him.”
Alan chuckled. “You and the angry little badger are much more alike than either of you care to admit, songbird.”
My voice came out droll. “That’s what’s so aggravating.”
“Also what makes your frolics with him so achingly scorching and ravenous,” he added.
I found myself blushing, keeping my mouth shut. Remembering Will’s touch when he brought that sort of heat and anger to me, rather than directing it with callous words and animosity. Yes, Alan’s certainly right about that.
Tuck said, “Back to the task at hand, aye? You know I want nothing more than to fill my little heathen to the brim. I also know we’re in a precarious position here.”
I sat up, staving off the building heat between my legs before it got out of control and I lost myself to these merciless men. “Right. So. To leave or not to leave? Staying close to Nottingham has never been wise for us, yet Will is right about how close it feels we are to Little John. At last.”
Tuck clicked his tongue. “Shame we don’t have more men at the ready. Then we could barge into the town square during the execution and cause a ruckus without the guards being able to stop us.”
“Well . . . we don’t, and we can’t,” Alan said, most unhelpfully.
I bit my lip, narrowing my eyes. When I glanced down at a spare axe sitting next to the wood we used in the fire, my brow perked.
They noticed it, and Alan said, “I know that look, love. Don’t hold back on us.”
The corner of my lip curled in a smirk as I kept my gaze on the axe. “I know what Little John might do in this situation.” My chin nudged to the curved blade. “He’d give me a haircut.”
It took them a second to recognize what I was saying.
Then Tuck’s eyes blew wide, and he shared a look with Alan before shaking his head sternly.
Alan said, “Lass, as much as I love you in a good boyish disguise . . . I think we may have overstayed our welcome with that particular trick. Used it too much, I mean.”
My smirk dropped into a frown, shoulders sagging.
He was probably right.
Tuck’s eyes gleamed from the flickering fire. “Unless we could do the same for all of us.”
Alan snorted, looking up at him incredulously. “I hate to be the one to point this out again, dear chaplain, but you have no hair. Apologies—you think a man of your . . . rotundity and stature can hide who you are to any moron with an ounce of vision in his eyes?”
I chuckled at Alan’s elegant barb.
Tuck scowled. “Nay, you dolt, I mean this: Infiltrate the execution with the Merry Men. We don’t have to do this alone.”
My heart leaped to my throat at what he was suggesting, hope coursing through my veins. Because it wasn’t as heavy-handed as Will’s idea, and it wasn’t running away like cowards because we were scared. It was something in the middle.
“We could use Carter and his comrades at the gates to let us in on the day,” I said, nodding profusely. Growing excited. “Like we did this evening.”
“Different gate this time,” Tuck said, nodding along. Growing excited with me. Leaning close to the fire.
“But of course, dear chaplain,” I conceded. I leaned closer, too. Smiled deviously.
Alan, still sitting at the fire between us, pulled his knees to his chest and wrapped his arms around them, glancing at us on either side of him. “You two seem ready to leap over this fire pit and hash it out over a lusty fuck. So I’ll let you do that. I still wonder what we do once we’re inside, so we don’t all get slaughtered.”
“We blend in,” I said. “Dress in our beggar’s best.”
“Hide amongst the flock,” Tuck agreed. He poked Alan’s leg with his foot. “You might even see me without my habit for once.”
“For once?” Alan-a-Dale scoffed, throwing his head back. “Sir, I see you without your habit—or anything else covering your body, for that matter—frequently enough already.”
I blushed, snorting to myself. Tuck smiled also, and looked away, embarrassed.
