30. Baron
BARON
Laurel would be back. She wouldn’t leave a mission incomplete, no matter how angry she was with me. It was as though I could predict Laurel’s actions perfectly. She always thought she was so clever, but I knew exactly the sort of things she would do.
For two nights in a row, I stood in a dark corner of the stables and listened to mice rustle through straw, horses shift in their stalls, and distant guards clank past on patrol.
I had dismissed Conrad for failing in his duties, and no replacement had been hired yet.
Agnes had taken pity on the lad and hired him to work in the kitchens, much to the delight of Laurel’s friend Aalis.
The arrangement suited everyone well enough, except perhaps Conrad, who would now spend his days being watched adoringly by a girl he had no idea how to speak to.
On the second night, during the dark hours before dawn, the stable door creaked slowly open and I went perfectly still.
Soft hoofbeats entered through the darkness, familiar even before I saw the horse. Moonlight filtered through the narrow windows, giving just enough light for me to make out Laurel’s cloaked figure as she barred the stable door and led my horse toward his stall. She was back.
The simple sight of her struck me with such force that, for a moment, I forgot every speech I had prepared. I waited until she locked the stall door again before I moved. Keeping to the shadows, I crept up behind her.
“Glad to see my horse is back.”
Laurel whirled and threw a wild punch.
I caught her fist in my hand. “You need to learn how to punch better. That was pitiful.”
She dropped her fist and swallowed. “What…what are you doing here?”
“I heard some outlaw named Robin Hood stole my horse, and I was waiting for him to return it as he so kindly promised.”
Laurel opened her mouth, closed it, opened it again and inhaled, then blew out a steady stream of air. I’d never seen her at a loss for words before. But at least she wasn’t running away from me. That was progress.
“I have news,” I told her. “King Richard is coming back.”
Immediate hope flared to life in her eyes. “Really? When will he be back? How do you know?”
“The letter came in yesterday. Richard has been released and Prince John wants to draw up battle plans.”
“My father?” Laurel asked breathlessly. “Is he coming back too?”
“In about two weeks. He’s accompanying Richard.”
Her face broke into a wide smile. “You’re sure?”
“Positive.” For a moment, I thought she was going to hug me.
Her arms lifted slightly, and I held my breath like a fool, already imagining how it would feel to have her touch me again.
But then she stopped herself, brought her arms down too, and patted her legs as though she had merely needed something to do with her hands.
“Good,” Laurel said. “I’m ready to be done here.”
“Me too,” I agreed, then added, “I don’t like being hated on all sides here.”
“Baron…” Laurel took a deep breath. “I’m sorry. You were right about me and I was wrong. I’m sorry about what I said and how I treated you.”
It was more than I’d dared to hope for. “I’m sorry too,” I told her. “I said some things I shouldn’t have. I never meant to deceive you, you know.”
“I know.”
I took a step closer, encouraged that she didn’t move away. “I don’t want there to be any secrets between us.”
A spasm flickered across Laurel’s face that I didn’t have time to interpret. There was a clanking sound that was growing closer—a guard on patrol duty. I grabbed Laurel and spun with her out of sight of the window until we were pressed against the wall.
“Hey,” she began to protest, but I covered her mouth with my hand. She jerked against me, but I held her still.
“Shh,” I whispered against her hair. “Someone’s outside.”
Laurel went motionless. We were so close that I could feel the rise and fall of her breathing.
Moonlight cut through the darkness in a thin silver line across her cheek, and the rest of her felt warm where she was pressed against my chest. The clanking walk of the soldier on duty grew louder and louder.
When it sounded as though he was just outside the stable, only feet from us on the opposite side of the wall, he paused.
A swish sounded, then several loud gulps, and a long, loud belch followed.
Laurel’s shoulders shook with suppressed laughter.
I tightened my hand over her mouth just enough to warn her.
Now was not the time. I could imagine exactly how much she would enjoy leaping out and frightening an unsuspecting guard, but I was not in the mood to explain to anyone why a woman had been hiding in the stables with the Sheriff of Nottingham in the middle of the night.
I hardly dared breathe.
The guard lingered for what felt like an eternity.
I tried to focus on every sound outside, to decipher whether he was merely drinking or had noticed something amiss, but Laurel’s nearness kept dragging my attention back onto her.
After weeks of distance between us, having her so close was its own kind of danger.
Finally, the guard’s clanking footsteps resumed and faded into the night.
Only then did I realize that Laurel had remained uncharacteristically quiet since I had forced her out of sight from the window.
Slowly, I eased the pressure of my hand from her mouth and began to drop my arm, but Laurel raised her fingers to meet mine.
I half-expected her to shove my hand away, or perhaps twist my wrist hard enough to remind me never to try that again.
Instead, she drew my hand down to her waist and ran her fingers lightly up my arm.
Every thought in my head vanished and my self-control was reduced to a single thread.
She looked up at me in the darkness, and the intensity in her gaze made breathing difficult.
Even though the guard was gone, neither of us moved.
We stayed pressed together in the shadows, close enough that I could feel the smallest shift of her body against mine.
I had told myself a hundred times over that I would be patient. I had told myself I would give her space and prove through my actions that I could be trusted. But all those sensible intentions felt feeble and thin with her standing so close, touching me like she had missed me too.
My hand slid around to her back and she allowed it.
I wanted to hold her and never let go. I wanted this moment to stretch on forever, uninterrupted and unbroken. I wanted to forget every cruel word, every week of silence, every horrible doubt that had driven her away.
“Baron?” she whispered.
I loved when she said my name. “What?”
“I need to tell you something.”
The words should have brought me back to myself. There was a strain to her voice that should have told me something was amiss, but I was too hungry for any softness from her to think clearly.
“So tell me.”
She took a deep breath and held it for several seconds. Then she shook her head. “Never mind.”
If she had wanted me to let her go, she would have said so. Laurel never held back from stating her opinion, especially when that opinion involved me being wrong. So I let myself lift one hand to her cheek, careful and slow, giving her every chance to pull away, but she didn’t.
I bent and kissed her temple, then the edge of her cheek. Did she have any idea how addicting she was to me? With her next to me, I could withstand anything.
“We shouldn’t be together,” Laurel said softly. “We are all wrong for each other, you know.”
“I know,” I said, brushing my lips along her jaw. “We’re too different.”
Several long moments passed before she spoke again. I used them foolishly, selfishly, resting my forehead near hers and letting myself imagine that we could forget everything. That our fight had been small. We could overcome anything if we simply held each other tight enough.
“Baron.”
“What?” I murmured.
“Did you mean what you said about not wanting any secrets between us?”
I took a deep breath. If Laurel was going to love me, I wanted her to love me with full knowledge of everything I’d done in the past, knowing that I’d changed. “Yes. I want us to always be honest with each other.” I stroked her hair. “I’ve really missed you.”
Pain crossed her face. “I’ve missed you too, but—” she broke off.
“But what?” I prompted.
Her eyes were darting around like they did any time she was hunting for an escape. I wasn’t going to just let her go this time. We’d missed each other. We cared for each other. I’d been honest with her. We could finally be happy together.
“I love you,” I whispered, about to kiss her, but then—
“I kissed someone else.”
I froze, our lips an inch apart. “What?”
“I kissed someone else,” she repeated, though the words sounded forced. “Yesterday afternoon.”
For one terrible second, I waited for her to laugh or smirk or tell me she had only said it to provoke me because provoking me was one of her favorite pastimes. But there was no lie in her eyes.
How could Laurel be angry with me for something I’d done years ago then go and kiss someone else a day before she was here with me? I slowly pulled back. “Who?”
“Little John’s son,” she confessed. “His name’s Peter.”
I wanted her to stop talking.
I wanted her to take it back.
I wanted everything to vanish and to rewind this moment to some version of reality where those words had never been spoken. The warmth between us disappeared, a deep flush crept up my neck and face, and I was suddenly grateful for the darkness. With a monumental effort, I took a step away from her.
“I see.” It was all I could manage.
I had never met Little John’s family, but in my mind, Peter took shape at once.
He was likely a younger version of Little John, probably taller and stronger than I was, who already had the instant approval of every person in Sherwood Forest. He would’ve grown up beside Laurel.
They would have years of shared memories together, from childhood games and familiar jokes to all the pieces of her life I had never been invited to see.
Peter wasn’t stained by the name Blackwellson.
Peter wouldn’t have to carry the shame of being one of the most hated men in all of England.
Robin Hood would never hesitate before trusting him with his daughter.
James had once told me Little John had a son who had been rather aggressive about making a play for Laurel. Had he been waiting all this time for her? Was he gloating now, telling everyone that Laurel had finally chosen him?
Peter had to be a thousand times worse than Leopold ever was.
Laurel took several breaths as though she meant to speak, but no words came.
Part of me wanted to ask everything. Why?
Did she care for him? Had she gone to Sherwood and found that being with him felt easier than being with me?
Another part of me didn’t want to know a single detail.
The thought of Laurel with anyone else caused pain to flare inside me, as if the wound she had left behind had been torn open all over again.
“We aren’t together,” Laurel said defensively.
Did she mean she and I weren’t together, so she had been free to kiss whomever she wished? Or did she mean she and Peter were not together now? I had no idea how to respond. I took another step away.
“I didn’t want there to be any secrets between us, like you said,” Laurel went on, a slight pleading in her voice. “You told me you didn’t want secrets.”
If I opened my mouth, I would say something I would regret later.
All this time, I’d been hoping she and I could get back together and patiently waiting for her to take the time she needed, and she’d run off and kissed someone else.
Apparently I didn’t mean as much to her as I’d hoped if I was so easily replaced.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I didn’t mean for it to happen.”
Again, I gritted my teeth and didn’t answer. How could she not mean to? It wasn’t like people just slipped and fell onto each other’s faces.
“We’ll need to find Prince John’s battle plans for when Richard gets here,” I said. My voice came out harsher and gruffer than I intended, and Laurel’s face fell. “He keeps them locked in his desk and he hasn’t shown me yet.”
“I can break in,” Laurel offered. “But not if he’s sitting there. I’d have to do it at night.”
“His bedroom is right next to his office.”
“Then I’ll have to be very quiet.” She hesitated then added, “Baron, about Peter—”
“Please, don’t.” I took a steading breath. I couldn’t go through another argument again. It was once again late at night, emotions were high, and it wouldn’t end well.
For once, she didn’t argue. Her eyes lowered and she nodded.
“So…so when are you planning to break into his desk?” I asked, not because I wanted her to, but because I wanted to talk about anything other than Peter. “Surely not right now.”
“No, I’ll do it tomorrow night.”
“I could do it instead of you. He’ll likely give me the battle plans in a few weeks, anyway.”
She shook her head. “We need more time to prepare than a day or two. I’ll do it. Besides, you can’t sneak around without arousing suspicion, and…and you’re more valuable where you are. A maid can be easily replaced. The Sheriff of Nottingham can’t be.”
“That’s not—”
“We both know it’s true.”
I blew out air. “Fine,” I said. “I was going out to survey the land around the castle tomorrow and the next day anyway. I’ll be camping there and I’ll send James to meet you halfway.” I hesitated then added, “It’ll be dangerous. If you’re seen—”
“I won’t be.” She held my gaze for a long time, staring defiantly back as though daring me to criticize her. I wanted so badly to warn her to be careful and to tell her to stay safe.
“Just don’t die,” I finally said.
“I’m not planning on it,” she said, then walked out of the stables.
I remained where I was, listening to her footsteps fade.
“No one ever does,” I breathed after she was gone.