39. Laurel
LAUREL
When I finally became conscious, I wished I could slip back into painless oblivion.
The agony was indescribable. It felt as though every inch of my body had been beaten with clubs, left in the sun for days, then been run over by a team of horses.
My head throbbed, my throat felt like acid had been boiled inside it, and I wondered if all the skin from my abdomen had been ripped away while I slept.
I could not even gather enough air to properly cry out.
I tried to move, but a hand pressed against my shoulder, keeping me down. My eyes fluttered open, and Baron’s concerned face swam into view.
“Ow,” I croaked.
Baron opened a jar and began gently dabbing paste onto my exposed middle. “Take it easy.”
“Ow,” I repeated, trying to look down at my body, but I couldn’t so much as contract my muscles enough to lift my head. It flopped uselessly to the side. “Ow.”
Baron’s mouth twitched as though he might smile, but the expression didn’t last. He looked terrible. Not in the wounded, nearly dead sort of way I probably did, but as though he hadn’t slept for several days. His eyes were shadowed, his jaw tight, and dark stubble covered his chin and cheeks.
How long had I been unconscious? My last clear memory was shortly after stealing the papers.
A few vague recollections floated through my mind.
James had transported me back to Sherwood Forest and Sybil had told me I was going to die.
Baron took me somewhere… a village. He had argued with a physician, but then I could only remember darkness.
The memories were like bits of dream, slipping away faster than I could hold on to them.
“Am I…” my voice rasped, “alive?”
“You are.” Baron gave me a half-hearted grin. “I found someone who could heal you.”
“Who?”
“The village physician tried,” Baron said. “But he wanted to bleed out the infection, and that would’ve killed you. You’d already lost too much blood.”
“Pompous prat,” I groaned. “I blacked his eye when he tried to put leeches on me when I was twelve, and he swore he’d never treat anyone from the forest again.”
Baron should have laughed; most people did when I recounted that story. But he only nodded solemnly and continued smoothing the paste over my skin with careful fingers. Perhaps my storytelling abilities hadn’t yet returned to their usual level.
“So who was it?” I persisted.
Baron sighed. “There was an old woman in the woods.”
I gasped, which was a mistake. Pain flared through my middle, and I had to wait several breaths before I could speak again.
“Not the Old Crone of the Woods?”
“I’ve never heard that name before.”
“It’s a story we tell children,” I groaned, trying again to sit up, but Baron’s hand kept me pressed down. “Like…like a wicked witch sort of person.”
“I don’t know about her being a wicked witch.” Baron’s voice was low. “But she healed you.”
I had never seen the woman myself, but I had heard ghost story after ghost story about her as a child.
She was supposedly an ancient old crone who lived in the dark part of the woods and preyed upon the souls of anyone desperate enough to seek her help.
The stories claimed she could change forms, transform people and things, cast spells, and never die.
But anyone who requested her services had to pay a terrible price.
Many were exaggerated, I was sure, but as a little girl, I had been far more afraid of those tales than of any of Prince John’s henchmen.
“Did she ask you for anything in return?” I asked.
Baron looked up sharply. “What makes you say that?”
His suspicion took me aback. “Nothing. I only heard stories about her, that is all. She always expects payment in the tales—favors and things. But I’ve only ever heard rumors. I didn’t know anyone who’s actually met her.”
Baron’s face relaxed slightly, but his gaze remained distant. “Yes,” he said. “She asked for something.” He didn’t elaborate.
“What was she like?” I asked, painfully curious. All the haunting tales from my childhood suddenly seemed much closer and more realistic.
Baron considered for so long that I wondered if he would answer at all. At last, he half glanced at me and said, almost casually, “She’s just a very old woman with a lot of experience. She knew an herbal remedy no one else did. She made some sort of potion or salve thing that helped.”
“What did she ask for in return?” I pestered. Baron’s jaw shifted as if he were chewing on his tongue before he responded.
“I offered her money.”
“And she accepted?”
“What? You think someone would turn down money?”
“No, it’s just—” I swallowed. My throat still hurt. “All the stories I heard about her made me think she was evil or something. I’d never heard a story of her accepting coins before. I always thought you would have to…to sell your soul or something.”
Truth be told, I was frightened of stories about magic and witches and all the rest. I could fight soldiers but I couldn’t fight magic. Magic was like ghosts—I knew they weren’t real, but it still frightened me all the same.
“Well, rest assured, I didn’t sell my soul,” Baron said. “And you’re getting better, so there’s no need for you to worry about it.” He returned to dabbing salve onto my midriff, but his mind seemed a thousand miles away from what he was doing.
Our conversation had sapped away all my energy.
Baron was smart. He could handle whatever was weighing on him.
If he wanted me to know, he would tell me.
He just didn’t want me to worry so I could recover more quickly.
I relaxed back into the bed, content to know that Baron had everything taken care of.
Everyone had been astounded beyond words when Baron carried me back into the heart of Sherwood Forest, perhaps not well, but at least alive.
For all the rest of the time that Baron remained in camp, he didn’t leave my side. He refused to let me do anything other than lie in bed. He monitored every drink of water, every bowl of gruel, every change of bandages, and every attempt I made to move even slightly without permission.
He was insufferable in the best of ways and I couldn’t help but love it.
Baron’s preoccupation remained and though he was always kind and there for me, it still felt like there was some sort of chasm between us and had been ever since I’d stupidly kissed Peter.
The distance bothered me more than his fussing over me ever could have.
I didn’t want to be distant with Baron. I wanted us to be close again.
He had been the only one who had refused to accept the possibility of my death. He was the one who had kept fighting when everyone else gave up hope. Now, because of him, I was healing in a way that mystified Sybil and frustrated Peter, who had clearly wanted some credit for my recovery.
Even when I began to feel considerably better, Baron staunchly refused to allow me out of bed or permit me to do any work.
He gave strict orders to everyone in our tiny village that I was not to be helped, humored, or allowed to sneak into any task whatsoever, and everyone obeyed him without question.
“I owe you my life, you know,” I told him a few days later.
He was due to return to Prince John’s castle, and the thought had made me restless all morning.
“You don’t owe me anything,” Baron said at once. “You’ve saved me before. We’re even.”
“Everyone else gave up. But you didn’t.”
Baron looked down at me, and some of the hardness in his face melted away. “I’ll never give up on you.”
I reached for his hand. Just as always, the moment his fingers touched mine, my heart began to flutter wildly. I clung to his fingers and pulled him closer.
“Stay with me.”
“What do you think I’ve been doing?” Baron asked softly.
He smoothed a strand of hair away from my face, and I didn’t want him to stop touching me.
I wanted to block out the rest of the world.
He and I had completed our part of the mission.
There was no need for either of us to return to the castle.
King Richard was coming. Father would be home soon.
Prince John could fall in a ditch for all I cared.
As valuable as Baron could be undercover, I didn’t want to be parted from him again. It had been a mistake to push him away.
I felt the same irresistible pull toward him that I had never been able to explain or wish away. He was the one I wanted. I was sure of it now. Perhaps I should have been sure before, but nearly dying had a way of making certain things very clear.
“Kiss me,” I whispered. Baron’s fingers tightened over mine and he started to lean forward, but then he stopped.
Conflict raged in his eyes, and I couldn’t understand it.
I knew he wanted to be with me. I could see it in the way he looked at me, in the way he had stayed by my side, and in the way his hand still held mine.
I tried to pull him closer but he resisted.
“Baron,” I said, my voice unsteady, “I want us to be together.”
His eyes closed.
I hurried on before I lost my nerve. “I told you before—you were right. I am impulsive. I was impulsive when I called things off, and I was impulsive when I kissed Peter. I was wrong to do both of those things. I’m sorry. I still love you, and I want to be with you.”
I had expected Baron to be overjoyed. I had expected him to lean down, kiss me, forgive me, and accept the offer as eagerly as he had once accepted my reckless suggestion that we run away together. I certainly had not expected him to look pained.
“We can’t,” he said quietly.
I caught my breath. “What do you mean?”
“Laurel…”
“I’m sorry about before. I really am. With Peter, it didn’t mean anything.”
“It isn’t that.”
“Then what?” My grip tightened around his hand. “What did I do?”
Baron shook his head. “It isn’t about you. I’m not the person you think I am.”
“But I know about…” I began.
He cut me off. “It goes beyond Walter and his hand. It goes beyond my parentage and what I’ve done in the past.”
“Then explain it to me.”
“You wouldn’t understand.”
“I’m a fairly smart person,” I said, rather indignantly. “Try me.”
“I can’t.”
I stared at him. I knew about Baron’s past. Or at least, I knew enough. I had accepted that he had to act the part of the Sheriff to maintain his image, no matter how distasteful some of his tasks became. I had done terrible things too. But he was refusing to let me back in.
I didn’t understand. He had come to my aid when I needed him. He had saved my life when everyone else had accepted my death. He must care about me. He said he loved me… So why was he refusing me?
This sort of hurt and rejection went deeper than any other injury I ever had, right down to my very core. I’d heard that love could hurt, but until this very moment, I hadn’t understood it. Now I did. It was as though my very soul was being cleaved in two.
“Baron, what I did…” My voice cracked. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what else to say. I’m sorry about everything. I choose you.”
His face twisted. “This isn’t about anything you’ve done,” Baron said, frustration roughening his voice. “You don’t need to be sorry.”
“Then what is it?”
He ran a hand through his hair and blew out a sharp breath. “I can’t tell you.”
I was utterly bewildered. “I thought you loved me.”
“I do.”
“Well?” I lifted a weak hand as if to say, Then what’s the problem?
“We just can’t.” His voice dropped. “I want to. I do. But it’s impossible right now. I don’t have an answer for you right now, and I don’t know when I will.” He rose abruptly and ducked out of the hut.
A few minutes later, I heard the heavy hoofbeats of his horse gallop out of camp.
I lay there in stunned silence. No matter how hard I focused, I didn’t understand.
If he loved me, why didn’t he want to be with me?
Had he found someone after I kissed Peter, but didn’t want to tell me?
No. That made no sense. Baron had just saved my life by finding someone to heal me when everyone else had given up hope.
He wouldn’t have done that if he did not care.
And I had apologized. Was Baron aware of how infrequently I apologized? To anyone? He claimed that this wasn’t about Peter, but I couldn’t see what else it was.
This was why vulnerability was the worst thing to feel. If I’d never opened myself up enough for him to see exactly where to hurt me, I wouldn’t have to endure this unbearable ache.
I stared at the doorway long after he was gone, trying furiously to dissect the problem. If we loved each other, that should’ve been enough. We could work through anything as a team. But now, Baron was saying he didn’t want to. At some point, I had ruined my chance at a future with him.
If only I knew how.