“You would like to dress now, my lady?”

“No,” I said quick, pulling my hand back from it. “Where can I bathe?”

“We’ll fetch the bath for you, my lady.”

I forgot about this—the silly labor of baths. Fair shamed by it, I stashed my knives by the shutter as they left, then watched as the servants first brought the basin to the chambers, then pail after pail of water warmed in the kitchens and sloshed cold by the time it made it to me. I didn’t mind that much—I were used to bathing in colder waters—but I were meant to sit in the half-empty basin while they poured it over me, slow and waiting for more water.

Then the lady servant set upon me with soap and cloths, and that part were a far cry better than bathing in the lake.

Course, Gisbourne walked in half through this ordeal, and I weren’t none too pleased by him seeing all my bits again. And he just folded his arms and watched me. I covered myself in the water as best I could with my knees and such, but it didn’t make me feel much better.

“Quite a gentleman, aren’t you,” I spat at him.

“What?” he asked. “A man can’t look upon his wife? From what I’m told it’s the same as looking upon my arm, or my foot. You belong to my body, Marian, and I shall look at you how I choose.”

Blood were creeping up my neck and cheeks, and I stared at the water as the maid finished, fetching a sheet for me.

“You were missed at supper last night,” he said.

“I’m sure.”

“I realize I wasn’t specific about this before, but court suppers are part of our bargain. Every function you are expected to attend as my wife you shall attend, or our deal is off. Do you understand?”

The servant shook the sheet open, standing off to the side. I motioned her over, to stand between me and Gisbourne, but she just looked confused.

Gisbourne laughed, damn him.

Full of hate and shame, I stood, wrapping the sheet round me as quick as I could. Gisbourne came forward as I stood there, putting his hand on my stomach where the big bruise lay, pulsing and sore under the thin cover of the sheet. My whole skin shivered with the touch of a hand through so little fabric.

He looked at me, his eyes dark. “Seems you know a lot of gentlemen.”

It should have shamed me, but that weren’t the way of it. It made me think of Robin, of his mouth and his hands and his body all along mine.

“Hold on,” he ordered abruptly, and without more word he grasped my middle and pulled me from the bath. Swallowing a gasp, my hand shot out to his shoulder as he lifted me up over the edge and set my feet down.

He let me go immediately, and I pulled away from him, holding the sheet tight to me.

He pulled the tunic off over his head. “Send up more water,” he said to Eadric. “No reason to let this waste.”

I dragged the long, loose dress over my head as more of his clothes came off. He bared his chest, staring at me. I looked away, but I felt his eyes on me as he stripped down completely.

“And here I thought what’s good for the goose is good for the gander,” he goaded with a laugh. “Don’t want to peek, love?”

Rob’s kiss burned over me again. “Don’t call me that. You don’t love me. It’s a mock.”

“Yes,” he said. “It is. Love.”

I shook my head, keeping turned away from him and letting my maid tug and pull and tie me. I heard the splash of the water and the sounds of washing, and I felt like I were fair pinned in the corner of the room, unable to move.

The servant sat me on the edge of the bed and brushed what there were of my hair—long bits in front that fluffed about my face, and the short bunches in back that didn’t lay flat. It behaved a bit more for her, and she did some trick with pins and it stayed back, like it were all gathered about the bun that weren’t there anymore.

“Thank you,” I murmured to her.

Gisbourne stood from the bath. “Last chance,” he said before his manservant put the cloth around him. I stayed still, and he laughed at me. I sat on the bed while his manservant dressed him in black velvet, stark and fine against the white of his shirt, his body big and wide and hard with muscle that seemed odd to be dressed in velvet.

I looked away. He weren’t ugly.

Not liking the thought, I went to the window, retrieving my knife when he weren’t looking and hiding it in the back of the shorter overdress.

Finished, he held out his hand and I took it, letting him pull me in front of him. He stared me over, but not the same as when I wasn’t dressed. “Perfect,” he said. “The dress suits you nicely. Now if you just don’t open your mouth, we may be able to pull this off.”

“What is there to pull?” I asked, taking my hand back. “It ain’t as if we’re fixing to steal something from the prince.” I looked at him. “Are you?”

“I’m trying to convince him that you’re a well-bred lady instead of a heathen,” he told me. “It’s a little bit harder than stealing bread.”

“Why should he care?”

“I care. You should care.”

“Why?”

“Christ, you’re little better than a toddler.” Shaking his head, he came toward me till my back hit the wall, and he leaned close to my ear. “You want an annulment, Marian, yes?”

My hand curled around the knife I had hidden, but I nodded.

“Do you know what the only thing is that will allow for our marriage to be annulled?”