I sent them to different tasks within the city, and Rob waited for them all to ride past me before coming up to my horse. I dropped off the horse’s back, taking a moment to arrange the skirts of the dress that caught up around my legs.

When I looked up, Rob were close to me. His bow were over his back, and his arms were crossed over his front. “You did well,” he told me.

“Thank you,” I said, looking at him. “You’re not happy about this, are you? That I’m Lady Huntingdon.”

He paused, but he shook his head slow. “I don’t know what to think, Scar. I just need more time.”

“I don’t understand,” I told him.

His shoulders lifted. “Those were meant to be my lands, Scar,” he said.

Slow and careful, I reached for his hand, threading his fingers through mine where they weren’t covered with bandages. He smiled at the strange sight.

“Your hands are a little ridiculous, love,” he told me.

“Rob, they can be your lands again,” I told him with a whisper.

“If we marry,” he said, his eyes meeting mine, heavy and dark. “I know,” he said, looking at our hands. “I just don’t know that I deserve them. That I will ever deserve that title.”

“Rob—”

“And more than that, I don’t know that you can marry me, Scar.” His hand pulled away from mine. “Prince John isn’t wrong about that—you can marry any unwed man in the kingdom. Your father won’t approve of you wedding a sheriff.”

“I don’t care about that!” I said, my heart starting to beat faster.

“Don’t you?” he asked, looking at me. “You spoke of alliances. Do you know what the best way to ally yourself with another powerful lord is? What the best way to protect Nottingham is?”

I stepped back, close to the horse, and the horse tossed his head. “You want me to marry someone else?” I asked, my voice a bare whisper; I didn’t think I were breathing.

“I want to keep you alive, Scarlet!” he yelled at me. “There’s no way in hell I want to see you marry another man. Again. I’ve been through that torture once, thank you. But you are a noblewoman now, and there is a different set of rules. Protection and safety aren’t things you can purchase at the tip of your knife.”

“No—they’re things I should purchase with my body?” I yelled. I couldn’t breathe, and there were tears blocking my eyes.

“You survived Gisbourne,” he said soft. “Surely he was the worst you could hope for.”

I shrank back farther, and the horse trotted away from me. I shut my eyes and Gisbourne were there again, pushing me against the wall, clawing at my skirts, pulling them up. Hurting me.

“Scarlet,” Rob said, touching my arm. I turned away, hitting the ashen remain of a wall, and he caught my shoulders. “Scar,” he said again.

I pulled away from him, and the tears shot out.

“Scarlet!” he said.

I shook my head, grabbing for the horse’s reins and starting to walk toward the castle.

“Scarlet!” he yelled.

I didn’t stop. And he didn’t follow me.

Chapter 18

We all ate dinner in the Great Hall, sharing whatever we could for food, but we were running low. I sat by Rob, our food spread on a linen on the floor. There weren’t near enough tables to seat all the people we needed to feed, and I never had a problem sitting on the ground.

Rob took my hand, and I looked at him, watching him, as he unwrapped the bandage on one, looking to see how the cuts were healing.

I wanted to pull away. If he were going to touch me, I didn’t want it to be to check a wound, some necessary thing. I wanted it to mean something more.

That didn’t mean I’d rather him not touch me at all, though.

“We should hunt tomorrow,” I told him, eating a bit of cheese. “We don’t have any meat left.”

He looked at me, the corner of his mouth rising. “Guess we don’t have to worry about a lord catching us poaching.”

“They’re royal forests, not shire forests. The only person who has the right to truly punish someone for poaching is the king.”

He flipped my hand over, stroking his thumb along the beating vein in my wrist, making the blood rush faster. “Then we’ll hunt happily. Everything seems easier in the forest, anyway,” he said, and his voice were rough.

“I don’t know if I can shoot anymore,” I told him soft.

“You haven’t been gone that long,” he told me, brushing my wrist again.

Wondering if two could play such a game, I took his hand and traced my fingertips over his palm, edging one finger, then the next, then the next. He sucked in a hard breath. “Not because of the time,” I admitted, unearthing my half hand from where I’d hidden it in my skirts.

He took this hand, unwrapping it and really looking at it for the first time. The scarred stumps were discolored, almost black, and tough and rough to the touch. Hard. Flipping it over, the palm were red and scraped up from the rope. He lifted my hand, kissing a bit of the uninjured pad at the base of my thumb. “Your hands have seen far too much pain. But if you want, I’ll teach you to shoot like I taught you the first time.”

I pulled away from him with a gasp. “The first time!” I yelped, outraged. “You never!”

He grinned. “You couldn’t shoot a horse’s ass when I found you,” he boasted. “I taught you everything you know.”