Chapter 19 #2
The men looked to Mr. Reeve. He nodded for them to move toward Robert. They froze in place, though, when several other men suddenly appeared from the darkened doorway where Robert had entered.
His companions from the forest stepped into view, all of them. And one extra, too. They each held a pistol.
“Sorry, Sheriff,” Robert said. “You’re the one under arrest. My young friend, Mr. Grover, happened to be taking a walk through the forest today. Imagine his surprise when he witnessed you murdering Mr. Dent.”
Uncle Prinley whirled on the sheriff and practically shouted. “You! You murdered my lawyer? Why… I rescind my consent. You will not be marrying my daughter!”
Meg sniffled. No one in the room moved. Mr. Reeve’s men seemed to want to defend their sheriff, but they did not have weapons at the ready.
Clearly Robert wanted to take them into custody, but Marianne had a gun to her throat.
Gisborn ordered everyone to stay where they were, or he would shoot her.
She did not at all like the sound of that.
“Leave her alone, Gisborn,” Robert ordered. “Let her go or, I swear, you’ll be dead before you can pull the trigger.”
Gisborn just laughed at him. His hot breath was moist and sticky on her neck. It was more than she could take from him. She felt almost faint.
In fact, perhaps fainting would be a good thing just now.
Gathering all of her courage, she suddenly buckled her knees, allowing herself to drop through his grip.
She dislodged the pistol and, for good measure, swung back her elbow as she dropped to the floor.
She connected quite forcefully with his groin.
The man fumbled his pistol and howled in pain.
She was on the floor now, but not entirely free. It took a moment, but he regained control over the gun. His fist clenched tight around it and he pointed it toward her. Pure hatred burned in his eyes.
And then it was horror. He staggered backward, the pistol fired with an ear-shattering crack. Marianne shut her eyes and pulled tight into a ball.
Something clattered to the floor near her, then there was a staggering thud. Meg and Aunt Regina screamed. Many feet were suddenly running from all directions. Another pistol fired, more scuffling and shuffling. Chairs crashed and dishes on the table rattled.
Their lovely dinner was quite ruined.
But Marianne realized she was not shot. She opened her eyes to find everything changed.
Gisborn had crumbled to the floor, moaning.
An arrow had gone into his chest. Mr. Reeve was not far away; he too was on the floor, but he was not moaning.
A pistol lay near him, as harmless as his lifeless body.
The man had taken his own life rather than face justice for committing murder.
Without their leader, the sheriff’s men huddled together, also helpless as Robert’s men surrounded them and brandished their own weapons. Robert had dropped his bow and was beside Marianne, kneeling and stroking her hair.
“Are you injured?” he asked frantically.
“I’m fine,” she said, struggling to right herself. “But what… you shot Mr. Gisborn!”
“I did. He was going to kill you.”
“But… you shot him with an arrow!”
“I did.”
She glanced over at his handiwork. “That was a good shot.”
“Thank you. But are you sure you weren’t harmed at all?”
“I’m perfectly fine,” she said and allowed him to help her to her feet. “But you shot him with an arrow! Where on earth did you get a bow?”
“It was my bow!” a young voice said.
She glanced over to see Henry helping to right chairs and straighten the room.
“I found that bow in the hunting box,” the boy explained. “Mr. Locksley put the string on it and was teaching me to shoot. I knew he was as good as Robin Hood, so I brought it here for him tonight. Mr. Muchleigh said there might be trouble.”
“It appears I was right,” Mr. Muchleigh said. “Sorry you are here to see it, lad.”
But there was no trouble now. Meg had thrown herself into Mr. Muchleigh’s arms. Aunt Regina and Uncle Prinley were comforting each other and gazing around at the confusion and carnage. There could be little doubt who their daughter would be marrying now. They would simply have to accept that.
Robert put his arm around Marianne and tugged her close. Together they surveyed the damage from tonight’s party. It was fairly extensive: broken furniture, shattered dishes, and food tossed onto the walls.
“Welcome to Greenwood,” he said with a private smile meant only for her. “Sorry the place is such a mess.”
“You really ought to take better care who you hire, Mr. Locksley,” she admonished. “Your most recent associate was quite intolerable.”
“Clearly I need to stay home and manage my own affairs,” he agreed. “I do hope that my next associate will be a bit more competent. I require a partner with some very particular qualifications.”
“Oh?” she asked. “And what on earth would those be?”
“I will insist on lifelong commitment, and an appreciation for archery. Along with this, there should be a certain measure of recklessness, a knack for mule theft, experience in cave exploration, a propensity for altering truth when needed, and... oh, yes; red hair is must.”
She laughed at his list of requirements. “Those are terribly specific. Are you certain you will find someone to meet all of those?”
“Most definitely, Maid Marianne. I could never be content with anyone else.”
“And I could never be content being anyone else,” she admitted, then added. “Unless, of course, I can be Robin Hood.”
“And wear a short tunic with tight fitting hosen? By all means! You may be Robin Hood any time you like, my dear.”
She leaned into him and let relief and happiness flow over her. “You can finally return to your home. You’re safe now! But… won’t you be lonely without the noise and the farm animals you’ve lived with in the forest?”
“What makes you think I won’t bring the whole lot of them here to Greenwood with me?”
She laughed and smiled up at him even as he turned her to face him. “Of course you will. And you will see that everyone who has been harmed by the corruption in town will be made well. That is why I love you, Robert Locksley. You truly are Robin Hood.”
“No, my dear, you are the real outlaw. I’m afraid you stole my heart that first day you scolded me for trying to rescue you in that carriage! I’m only thankful you didn’t put an arrow through me then.”
“Oh, but I was terrible toward you, wasn’t I? If only I had put an arrow through Mr. Gisborn and treated you a bit better.”
They both glanced over toward the man. Several servants tended Mr. Gisborn and it appeared that, unlike the cowardly sheriff, the deceitful steward would live to answer for his crimes.
Robert’s shot had wounded and distracted him, but it had not been fatal.
Marianne had no doubt that was intentional.
A man who had distinguished himself as a war hero probably knew how to kill when he chose to.
Even after Gisborn’s treachery, it seemed Robert had shown him mercy.
“If you had shot him, my dearest, you would have denied me the pleasure,” Robert said, giving Marianne a playful squeeze.
She frowned up at him. “Yes, you did make quite a shot there. Why on earth did you let me believe for so long that you could not shoot?”
“I never said that I couldn’t shoot, only that I chose not to.”
“Then I may have to challenge you, sir. My bow against yours to determine the finest archer in Sherwood.”
“I will take that challenge! But I must warn you; when I set my aim, I always hit my mark.”
She smiled and stood on her toes to accept his kiss. Indeed, he had most certainly hit his mark. He had won her heart and soul and she was his forever.
What he probably didn’t realize, though, was that she had hit her target first. He might think their love began when he dropped from the trees for a rescue she had not needed, but she knew the truth.
She had set her sights on him years ago. Poor, beautiful Robert Locksley never had a chance. Not against the finest archer in Sherwood.