Chapter 13 | Robin
Wulfric appeared from the trees with a bundle of herbs and mushrooms in his arms, a wide, toothy grin on his face. He dropped them into the large cauldron Bess had steaming over a fire, and dusted his hands off.
“That will spice it up nicely,” he said.
Bess scowled at him, the sagging skin of her chin and cheeks drooping. “You’re the first man I’ve let anywhere near my cooking pot in two decades, Wulfy. Don’t make me regret it.”
Wulfric beamed happily. Clearly the man was excited for this new chapter of his life—one that included an unexpected love interest at his side. In less than a full day, the two seemed smitten and attached. The younger Merry Men thought it was funny, but I believed the older ones found their burgeoning romance endearing.
It was the idea that if two elderly folk—a strange man like Wulfric and a stern woman like Bess—could find love out here in the woods, why couldn’t they, too?
I sat around the afternoon fire with my mates, waiting out the morning heat as cloud cover came drifting over.
Our wooden bowls were ready. Our knees were bouncing and our stomachs yelled at us. Chatter from every direction filled the space. The boys and girls who had been practicing with Will Scarlet grumbled about their aching bellies and sore muscles. He had worked them hard on their first day of sword training.
I loved to see it.
Alan, too, was in a good mood. He had helped Will make the wooden swords before anyone else in camp had woken up. I had a feeling they might have gotten into some other extracurricular activity, as well, with no one watching. Plus, the minstrel was likely still riding his high from yesterday, being the star of the night. He had every reason to be chipper.
Little John spoke in hushed tones to Robert, a few feet off from our fire. Tuck, sitting across from me, kept his eyes locked over my shoulder, narrowed on Maid Marian.
Marian had yet to integrate herself into any of the parties: the younglings, the veterans, or the leadership. Although Will had voiced his doubts about his place here, it was only Marian, I felt, who was still finding her footing. No one was going to make it any easier for her, either. Not after what she had done to us.
Trust was a hard-fought commodity here. Break it, and you risked losing it forever. I feared John, Tuck, Alan, and Will would never hold out the olive branch to Marian as they once had. They would never let her get close again.
I couldn’t be so uncompromising. As the leader of the Merry Men, I needed to try and think of the greater good—the wider implications and possibilities of Marian rejoining our band.
Did I trust her? Obviously not.
Did I think she could be useful? Well, yes. Even though I was angry at her renovation of my family estate into an upscale brothel, I couldn’t deny that a place like that would be a potential well of information.
A logistical thought came to me, and I tapped my bowl on my knee. How will she provide us that information, though, if she stays here?
I hated the idea of letting her go back to her handlers. She had already essentially told us Sir Guy had helped her every step of the way, so I was sure that slippery bastard had something to do with her arrival here.
Maybe she’s trying to play both sides. Guess the winner, and then choose who she will truly follow.
If that was the case, I trusted her even less. My instincts told me it was true, because Maid Marian was nothing if not a self-preservationist.
“Stew’s ready!” came Bess’ gruff, loud voice.
Cheers and mutterings rose from the camp.
“I want a nice, orderly line, heathens!” she added.
I smiled at John, who winked at me, and everyone started congregating toward Bess’ fire. The veteran Merry Men stood in the back, allowing the younglings to go first.
As I stood in line with Robert, I asked him, “Any word from Uncle Gregory or Briggs?”
My brother nodded, lowering his voice. “I made some calculations last night, which is why you didn’t see much of me after the talk with Marian.”
“And?”
“This area is large enough to house the Oak Boys. I’ve sent a messenger to bring the rest of my crew here.”
I blinked. “Without consulting me?”
He reeled, sputtering. “I—erm. Apologies, sister, I thought you said—”
“I’m only teasing, brother.” I gave him a sly smirk and an elbow in his side. “When might they arrive?”
He shrugged. “No more than a few days, traveling light. We don’t have much to pick up because we’re leaving most of our things behind.”
“You think that’s wise?”
Robert nodded. “The Oak Boys camp can act as our backup hideaway, since Sheriff George is oblivious to its existence. We’ll need supplies there, if we ever want to use it again.”
“What if other bandits find your spot and ransack it?”
“Then we’ll rebuild. It’s a risk I’m willing to take. Are you?”
It was my turn to be taken aback. “Of course I am.”
Robert grunted. “Good. Because they’re en route already. There’s no turning back this tide.”
Nervousness settled in the pit of my belly.
My older brother put a hand on my arm and squeezed. “Don’t worry, Robin. This will be good for everyone. The women of my camp can teach yours the chores and efficient work they do. Will is already teaching others tactics for the battlefield. Tuck seems ready to start a prayer class, for those interested, and Alan seems ready to teach music lessons.”
I chortled. “Or woodworking, if nothing else.”
Robert chuckled. “The future is looking brighter, sister, and it’s all because of you.”
My laugh died, my lips firmed. “Because of us, Robert. None of this would be possible without you and the Oak Boys.” I threw a look to Alan, Will, John, and Tuck in the distance. “Or the men who keep me upright.”
“They’re good men.”
“Aye. The best men.”
Robert smiled at me knowingly, and my cheeks heated at the hint of teasing I noticed in his eyes.
Luckily, Bess saved me, saying, “Planning on eating, bosses?”
Robert and I blinked, shared a look, and hurried up to the cooking pot.
“Yes, ma’am,” I said with a half-bow. Robert repeated the same awkward movements, and we held our bowls out like grubby little children begging for scraps.
Leaders or grunts, it seemed no one got in between Bess and her authority over mealtime.
THE SKY TWINKLED IN daylight, and I swore I could see every dew drop of perspiration in the fading fog sweeping through camp. I tried to follow the swirling plumes of mist, blinking and parting my lips in fascination.
It had been over an hour since we’d eaten, yet my stomach still grumbled. Strange, that, because I was full, and the food had been delicious.
I blinked and moved my eyes from the skyline to the crisp blades of grass under my feet. They glistened, and I could feel the wind stretching across my skin, fluttering every fiber of my being.
Across from me, Little John sat at the ashen campfire. He peered into my soul with a blank expression on his face. Flat, almost, as if taking in every imperfection and pore of my skin.
I blinked, squeezing my thighs together from a sudden rush of heat that found its way to my core. Furrowing my brow, I grasped a moment of clarity and looked around the camp. My other three mates were similarly lazing around. The fire had long gone out. Across camp, people were moseying. Chores had been stopped. Conversation was either low or nonexistent.
“We’re going to sink divots into these logs if we keep sitting our asses on them much longer,” Will Scarlet pointed out, looking down at his lap. “Yet I can’t move my legs.”
My throat was dry, so I said nothing. I simply studied his beautiful face, and the sharp angles of his jaw, tilting my head curiously. His curly hair, which was like a spider’s many legs rustling in the soft breeze.
God, that breeze felt nice. It warmed my skin despite its briskness.
“How long . . . have we been sitting here?” Friar Tuck asked aloud, apropos of nothing.
We all shook our heads and shrugged. Glanced at each other. Slowly, brows furrowed.
The heat pooling at my center burgeoned when everyone’s eyes landed on me. As if I had all the answers. Yet at that moment, with the soft headiness of late afternoon swimming around my skull, I had none. Truth be told, I had no idea where I was.
Swimming, I thought. That sounds amazing right now.
If the breeze was doing such a thing to my skin, what would cool, crisp water feel like?
“Let’s go,” I said abruptly, and stood from my overturned log. When I got to my feet, I swayed, dizziness lingering through my body. As if the blood inside me had taken longer to unsettle than the rest of my body.
Alan-a-Dale was at my side in an instant, on his feet, clutching at my elbow. “You all right, little songbird?”
“I’m . . .” What was I? A woman on a mission? A pale flower in a forest of stillness? “I’m amazing,” I answered.
“A little unsteady, perhaps,” he said, and his face seemed to grow before my eyes. It was still gorgeous, and his blond hair was golden and radiant in the sun. Almost too radiant, like an angel’s blinding wings.
I wandered off without another word, feeling like it was time to move. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to move locations or worlds or thoughts, so I just went.
I heard the footsteps of the men following me away from camp. As I strolled at a leisurely pace, the world around me hummed and pulsated. I walked through a haze, yet it wasn’t the fog. It was God, perhaps, reaching down to me and cupping my chin, smiling at me.
I smiled back.
Except I wasn’t smiling at anything in particular. Or anyone. My men were behind me. The critters and animals of the forest were in front, making their little noises, which only bloomed in my mind until they were louder than swords clashing together.
I shook my head, wincing, and pushed through some trees to come to a wondrous glade. Here, the flowers were brilliant—a rainbow of hues and sizes and shapes.
A rainbow like my men, all different sizes and shapes.
I went to my hands and knees because I wanted the grass in my palms. I kicked off my boots because I needed the feeling of the earth and soil between my toes. A creak babbled nearby, and I tried to make a sound to mimic it.
The men laughed at my attempt. Alan-a-Dale squatted near me, examining a wild rose that shone pink and red. “This is a good flower,” he said, voice droll. With a firm nod, he plucked the rose. “Very good flower.”
“Careful for the thorns, dandelion,” Will said, scooting in next to him.
While those two studied the flowers, I raised my head from the ground and examined their backsides. They were nice backsides. Firm asses, taut and tight when they crouched like that.
I found myself sighing and going onto my belly on the forest floor. With a jolt of arousal, I bucked my hips, grinding my neediness against the grass and hard earth. I settled the side of my cheek down and hummed to myself, closing my eyes, smiling as I let the haze of life wash over the entire front of me. My nipples pebbled from the friction.
“Um, little star,” Little John rumbled behind me. “What are you doing?”
I hummed again. “Enjoying life, sir. Is that so wrong?” Cracking one eye open, annoyed at his distracting, deep voice, I gasped.
A bulge throbbed in his pants, against his thigh—lively and huge. “That’s fine,” he said, standing over me, “but if you keep enjoying life like that, I might have to enjoy you.”
My eyes widened when his hand unabashedly stroked the thick outline of his cock.
I nodded. Rolled onto my back, so I still had the grass all over me, yet it was no longer teasing my skin. “An excellent idea,” I said. My voice sounded far away in my ears, as if it wasn’t a part of me.
“What . . . is going on?” Friar Tuck asked, again, apropos of nothing. He was looking up at the sky, and frowned. “Does the sky look particularly blue today?”
“It’s always blue, except on a dreary day,” Alan helpfully pointed out, rolling the rose between his fingers.
“Aye,” Tuck agreed, “yet it sparkles like sapphires today. Amazing, isn’t it?”
“Ow, fuck,” Alan hissed, and I glanced over to see him drop the rose. A bead of blood dripped from his finger where a thorn had poked him.
“Told you to be careful,” Will grumbled next to him, and shook his head. “Now I’ll need to help you.”
With that, he leaned forward, locked gazes with Alan-a-Dale . . . and took the minstrel’s bleeding finger in his mouth. Their eyes remained fixed on each other as Will softly sucked Alan’s finger, and the minstrel’s body went taut.
“Oh my,” I murmured.
I found myself sitting up. Spreading my legs . . . dipping a hand between them. Rubbing and feeling the heat of my throbbing cunt through my pants, right there in the open. The sensations pitter-pattered over my skin, then dove deep to the pit of my belly.
John let out a growl of desperation, fell to his knees before me. “That does it.” He crawled forward and met me, slanting his face and claiming my lips with his.
The big man’s kiss was fervent yet soft. Imploring as he slipped his tongue inside my mouth. I sucked on his tongue and moaned at the wet warmth of it. My free hand cupped his grizzly cheek. Every point and prod of his whiskers sang to me.
I wasn’t sure how long we kissed. Only that I closed my eyes and gave myself over to the feral sensations igniting through my mind and body like a blacksmith’s forge.
I needed out of these clothes. Desperately, I wanted to feel more of John’s touch against me—between my thighs, my breasts, my hips.
“I need you, right now,” John grunted.
With a heavy breath, my gaze danced from his eyes over his shoulder, where the other three looked at us curiously. Will still had Alan’s finger in his mouth, and the erection he sported because of it was clear as day through his pants.
“And I need you all,” I answered.