“No!” She put more distance between them, and he followed sullenly.
Time, Mary needed more time . . . no, in just two years, she’d be the age Marian was when she met Robin and he upended her world. Maybe a quiet arranged marriage would be better . . .
They and their retinue camped like they were under siege. Apart from everyone else, a defensible space of meadow between them and the next cluster of tents, men on guard. She had felt like they were being watched from the moment they arrived; she constantly looked over her shoulder.
Worst part of it was, she often found they were being watched. And not even by the king’s men. Everyone was watching Robin, to see what he would do. It wore her out, that she must act like nothing was wrong in the middle of it all.
Will greeted her almost as soon as she came in view. He was a tall man, solid, with well-worn hands and crow’s-feet from so much watching and worrying. “Where’s Robin?” He looked over her shoulder for her absent companion.
“We’re arguing,” Marian said darkly.
“Oh. Well. We have a visitor.”
Enough, when would this all be enough, when could they go home . . . Robin came up beside them.
“What is it?” Looking around, he marked every person within his view. His left fist squeezed, holding a bow that wasn’t there.
“Visitor,” their old friend said, stepping aside to show where he had seated the man by their fire.
“Oh, dear,” Robin said, looking on the Earl of Pembroke, Sir William Marshal.
The most famous knight in England, and perhaps in all of Europe, was an old man now but as impressive as ever. His thick white hair was tamed under a cap, his tabard was pristine, and his hand rested on his sword as easily as a songbird came to rest on a branch. He stood, and he was so very tall and broad. Age had not bent him a bit. Marian glanced at Robin, wondering what he would do.
“My lord,” Robin said, bowing his head. Marian had only ever seen him show this kind of deference to King Richard.
“My lord,” Marshal replied, and offered his hand. They shook. “Well met.”
“How may I serve you?” Robin seemed a bit stunned, as if he had missed the last stair.
Marshal’s smile turned wry. “I only wish to give you my goodwill, sir. And to say I hope that this marks an end to all your talk and trouble.”
“Ah. Yes. Just so. I hope so too. That will be up to our lord and king, won’t it?”
“And he will be watching, I can assure you.”
“Is that a threat?” Robin said, smiling as if to make a joke, but his gaze was hard.
“Only if you take it as one. I mean you no harm, Locksley. But do try to stay out of trouble for a while, yes?”
“Yes, sir.”
The old knight turned to her. “My lady, your reputation for grace and beauty falls far short of your presence. You have my admiration.” He bowed.
“My lord Pembroke, you are very kind.” She gazed at him in wonder.
“Fare you well, friends.” He bowed again and departed.
They watched him go.
“I think that man does charm better even than you, Robin,” Will said.
“No doubt about it. God’s wounds, I thought I was going to faint.” He blew out a breath he must have been holding.
Marshal’s retinue waited for him some distance off, and they included his eldest son, also William, a man of five-and-twenty who shared his father’s height and strength if not his reputation. He had sided with the rebel barons—at first. Then he had repented. He’d been eager to display his loyalty since then. Robin didn’t like the man much.
“And we will all watch each other,” Robin murmured. The younger William Marshal kept glancing at them over his shoulder, long after the others had turned away.
“This charter will not last,” Will said. “This peace will not last.”