Lady Thief: A Scarlet Novel by A.C. Gaughen Page B

with them all bundled up in his arms.
    “Rob,” I said soft. “You tried your damnedest to kill me, but you didn’t. You couldn’t, and I wouldn’t let you. So if this thing is always chasing you, I wouldn’t never let you hurt a family. But you will fight this. Can’t you tell me what you see, when you dream?”
    He shuddered. “Tell me what happened tonight.”
    “You’ll lose your temper,” I told him soft.
    “And if I tell you the nightmares,” he said, pulling me close and tucking his head to mine, “you might lose your love for me.”
    “Never,” I swore.
    “It’s always the Crusades,” he whispered into my ear. Despite being so much like what Gisbourne had done earlier, this made my skin blush warm and my heart beat fast. “There was so much fighting, Scarlet. So much death. And so much of it I was responsible for. And when I dream, I’m fighting still.”
    I knew that weren’t but a bit of it; he would never fear to lose my love over such a thing. I knew he fought. I knew he killed. But it were enough for now.
    “Tell me what happened,” he said, his lips brushing cold onto my cheek.
    “I’m afraid of Gisbourne,” I said, my voice twisted and small. “He threatened me, and it were pure awful, Rob. The court made their cruel words, and Gisbourne were more than bothered by it.” I shook my head. “People have talked foul about me for so long, Rob, I bare notice it anymore. But he hates it. And he makes me pay for it.”
    “People who don’t know you, Scar. Those that know you wouldn’t ever speak badly of you.”
    “You don’t think?” I whispered.
    He drew my hand up, kissing my fingers. “No.”
    I held tight to his hand but pulled away a bit, tugging him to walk. “You didn’t lose your temper,” I noticed.
    “Love,” he said soft, his thumb running over the bumps of my knuckles. “If I can keep my temper when you come to me and cry and I want to kill anyone that’s ever wronged you, trust me, I can stay calm when you just need someone to tell about it.” He pulled me closer again and kissed my temple, my cheek. “Besides,” he said, “something tells me you’re not explaining the worst of it.”
    “I just feel lost,” I said. “In skirts and trying to talk a way that ain’t natural. Trying to be something I’m not—for
him
.”
    He pulled me to him, hands running ’neath the guard’s cloak and over my sides, my hips. My body felt different in a dress, in the castle; my legs weren’t for running, my arms weren’t for climbing, my waist seemed important in a way it ain’t never been. In the forest, my middle were the part of methat were most soft without muscle or bone, so it needed to be protected, covered, hidden. In the castle it were on display, but it still felt like a weak spot. Vulnerable, which weren’t a thing I much liked.
    But Rob’s hands on my waist felt like a thrill, like it were close and hidden, a secret place for him to touch. I let the reins drop as he kissed me and my body sparked over with fire like dry kindling. I pushed him back a bit against a tree, my hand desperate to touch a single part of him.
    My hand slipped under his cloak, under his tunic and his shirt to bunch them up a bit. My hand were cold as it went, but I pushed it flat over his heart and let the heavy beat push warm into my hand. That was what I wanted from him.
    His hands overcame the little pins in my hair, and he ran his fingers through the long bits, through the short fluff in back, over and over again.
    I had heard enough girls—most yapping about John—say that a kiss made them stupid, blind to the world with every sense fair gone. And true, I hadn’t kissed enough to well compare, but Rob’s kiss made every bit of me thrum with life, with hot and blood. It made me feel brighter and taller and in these dark days, it were like a magic draught to shore up my strength.
    I left his lips to press a kiss by his heart. “I love you, Robin,” I whispered to