My one hand slid up, doing the work for two as it ran slow over his chest, ridges and dips and smooth planes like the forest itself, beckoning me and tricking me and drawing me in deeper. The bit of hair furring over his chest licked at my fingers as I ran over it, phantom touches along my skin. I hit smooth skin again and pushed my fingers wide to curl over his shoulder and round his neck, drawing him closer to me.
“Scarlet,” he whispered, staring at me, his eyes checking my face. “What happened last night? You look … you scared the hell out of me when I saw you. You’re wearing the same dress.”
“You first,” I said, shutting my eyes. I pulled him closer still, waiting until our faces touched, his forehead resting on mine.
“Scarlet,” he said. “You know what happened to me. They’re letting me compete. And by some miracle, they haven’t been cruel to me. Which makes me think that cruelty has gone elsewhere.”
“I don’t know, Rob. I see you out there, fighting like that, and I don’t know anything about you at all.”
“Scarlet.” His eyes were steady, not thrown off. “You’re shaking.”
I were?
He leaned away a bit. “I frightened you,” he said, and his voice were more low and dark than a well.
“No.” My hand on him turned to a grip as the floor tilted.
He frowned and moved quick, taking me about the waist and pulling me down upon the bed, sitting beside me. His hands on me changed, running through my hair to check for lumps on my head, pressing my skin to check what were broken. Soon enough he went still, and after a breath gentle fingers went about the wrist in the sling. Even that touch sent pain like shards of glass through me, and I shook my head, moaning.
“What did they do.”
It weren’t a question. It were dark and angry.
“Rob.”
“No more, Scarlet. Tell me. Now.”
“They punished me,” I said soft. “The prince. He …” I had felt the point of the knife before it touched my skin. Watching it, waiting for it, knowing the pain were about to come, it were like I made it happen before it really started. How did I tell him that? “Nothing,” I ground out, meeting his eyes. “He did nothing that I can’t take, nothing that makes me wish I’d done different. And nothing for you to hurt over.”
But Rob kept on, taking my hand and seeing the way it were bandaged, two small fingers and a flat stretch before my thumb with blood starting to seep through.
His chest started rising and dropping fast, like he couldn’t breathe swift enough and none of it were doing no good. His hands went to fists, pressed hard on his knees, and then he struck his knees, hard and fast. He bent forward, then sprang up and drove his fist into the wooden post with a cry.
I tried to stand, but my legs couldn’t hold it. “Rob,” I sighed. “Rob, come to me.”
He growled low, kicking the post once, twice, three times in sharp succession.
“Rob,” I said again. “I can’t come to you.”
He turned and came forward, dropping to his knees in front of me. I pulled him closer, feeling the world rock a little less with my hand on him.
He went still, his face a scowl and his eyes on mine. “They did this to you because of me. All of this is because of me.”
I stared into his eyes, unwilling to look away, unable to let him go. “No. The prince did this because he is cruel and jealous and Gisbourne allowed it because he’s weak. They just gave you the best chance to fight this, Robin Hood. To prevent this from happening to anyone else.”
His big hands spread like fans on my back, tight but gentle. “I can’t do it. I won’t win—not in the shape that I’m in, Scarlet.” His eyes shut and his forehead pushed against my stomach. “Every hit—every time—it feels like I’m back there. It feels like it’s all starting again.”
“What is?” I whispered. I ran my fingers over his hair, slow and kind. “What is?”
“How much do you know about the Crusades?” he asked. “What I did there?”
“You left after the siege of Acre, didn’t you?” I said.
He didn’t answer me. He swallowed. “The siege was long. It was the first real battle, and Richard couldn’t afford to give up. It took us more than a month before we first broke Acre,” he said. “For so long a wall had been between us, but then the wall broke, and they flooded out. And we ran.”
I shivered at the picture in my mind—it were all too like the melee, the sudden and unleashed clash of two lines. Chaos.
“I was so afraid of that day—of the crush of war. I didn’t know how I would tell my men from the infidels. Then they ran at us, and I was relieved—there would be no mistaking one of us for one of them. They looked so very different, they didn’t wear armor of any kind. With the sun glinting off our metal, it was like God had sent an angel to each of us to shine a light on us, keep us safe. And I found I could fight. I found all my training meant something; I could fight and never tire, never break.”
One of us were shaking, and I didn’t know who, but it didn’t matter. If one person shook, the other’s body took it in.
“And then the wind rose, and the sand rose with it. They continued to come at us. We were blind, and more than that, the ease was gone. I couldn’t see who was right in front of my face, much less what they wore.”
His body leaned tighter against mine, careful not to lean on my arm.
“Scarlet,” he whispered, staring at me, his eyes checking my face. “What happened last night? You look … you scared the hell out of me when I saw you. You’re wearing the same dress.”
“You first,” I said, shutting my eyes. I pulled him closer still, waiting until our faces touched, his forehead resting on mine.
“Scarlet,” he said. “You know what happened to me. They’re letting me compete. And by some miracle, they haven’t been cruel to me. Which makes me think that cruelty has gone elsewhere.”
“I don’t know, Rob. I see you out there, fighting like that, and I don’t know anything about you at all.”
“Scarlet.” His eyes were steady, not thrown off. “You’re shaking.”
I were?
He leaned away a bit. “I frightened you,” he said, and his voice were more low and dark than a well.
“No.” My hand on him turned to a grip as the floor tilted.
He frowned and moved quick, taking me about the waist and pulling me down upon the bed, sitting beside me. His hands on me changed, running through my hair to check for lumps on my head, pressing my skin to check what were broken. Soon enough he went still, and after a breath gentle fingers went about the wrist in the sling. Even that touch sent pain like shards of glass through me, and I shook my head, moaning.
“What did they do.”
It weren’t a question. It were dark and angry.
“Rob.”
“No more, Scarlet. Tell me. Now.”
“They punished me,” I said soft. “The prince. He …” I had felt the point of the knife before it touched my skin. Watching it, waiting for it, knowing the pain were about to come, it were like I made it happen before it really started. How did I tell him that? “Nothing,” I ground out, meeting his eyes. “He did nothing that I can’t take, nothing that makes me wish I’d done different. And nothing for you to hurt over.”
But Rob kept on, taking my hand and seeing the way it were bandaged, two small fingers and a flat stretch before my thumb with blood starting to seep through.
His chest started rising and dropping fast, like he couldn’t breathe swift enough and none of it were doing no good. His hands went to fists, pressed hard on his knees, and then he struck his knees, hard and fast. He bent forward, then sprang up and drove his fist into the wooden post with a cry.
I tried to stand, but my legs couldn’t hold it. “Rob,” I sighed. “Rob, come to me.”
He growled low, kicking the post once, twice, three times in sharp succession.
“Rob,” I said again. “I can’t come to you.”
He turned and came forward, dropping to his knees in front of me. I pulled him closer, feeling the world rock a little less with my hand on him.
He went still, his face a scowl and his eyes on mine. “They did this to you because of me. All of this is because of me.”
I stared into his eyes, unwilling to look away, unable to let him go. “No. The prince did this because he is cruel and jealous and Gisbourne allowed it because he’s weak. They just gave you the best chance to fight this, Robin Hood. To prevent this from happening to anyone else.”
His big hands spread like fans on my back, tight but gentle. “I can’t do it. I won’t win—not in the shape that I’m in, Scarlet.” His eyes shut and his forehead pushed against my stomach. “Every hit—every time—it feels like I’m back there. It feels like it’s all starting again.”
“What is?” I whispered. I ran my fingers over his hair, slow and kind. “What is?”
“How much do you know about the Crusades?” he asked. “What I did there?”
“You left after the siege of Acre, didn’t you?” I said.
He didn’t answer me. He swallowed. “The siege was long. It was the first real battle, and Richard couldn’t afford to give up. It took us more than a month before we first broke Acre,” he said. “For so long a wall had been between us, but then the wall broke, and they flooded out. And we ran.”
I shivered at the picture in my mind—it were all too like the melee, the sudden and unleashed clash of two lines. Chaos.
“I was so afraid of that day—of the crush of war. I didn’t know how I would tell my men from the infidels. Then they ran at us, and I was relieved—there would be no mistaking one of us for one of them. They looked so very different, they didn’t wear armor of any kind. With the sun glinting off our metal, it was like God had sent an angel to each of us to shine a light on us, keep us safe. And I found I could fight. I found all my training meant something; I could fight and never tire, never break.”
One of us were shaking, and I didn’t know who, but it didn’t matter. If one person shook, the other’s body took it in.
“And then the wind rose, and the sand rose with it. They continued to come at us. We were blind, and more than that, the ease was gone. I couldn’t see who was right in front of my face, much less what they wore.”
His body leaned tighter against mine, careful not to lean on my arm.
