Page 85 of Robin and Marian
No, he wouldn’t let her blame herself for this. “He betrayed us both, Scarlett. This wasn’t you.”
“I don’t think that’s true anymore!” Her eyes squeezed shut. “The things he said about you—like it was all your fault… how could he do that? We argued all the time. How could he lie like that… unless he really believed… There has to be something more to this.” Her gaze shot quickly to him. “I’m sorry, Robin! I guess I… don’t want to believe, but…” her voice trailed off. The loud footsteps were back on the stairs—too strong to be Richard, too heavy to be Midge. His sister winced as they came closer.
The door flew open and Guy came through with a stack of papers in his hands. He shoved them at Robin to read—contracts, payoffs, deals with questionable sources, all of them holding Scarlett’s signature. Guy was right. It was bad. Robin held them up to Scarlett. “Do you remember signing these?”
“Alan…” her voice sounded dead. “He had me sign a lot of things.”
“Those are the copies,” Guy said. Robin knew where the originals would be—the safe that Tuck couldn’t break into. Guy was too smug—he had to be sadistic to be enjoying this. The bruise swelling shut his eye was so black that it looked like the sunken sockets of a skull. He gave them a grin that belonged to a leering dead man before he said, “You’re both mine.”
Robin lurched from his seat and shoved Guy back against the fireplace amidst Scarlett’s screams. Guy’s chin creased into multiple chins as he stared up at him. “You want to add murder to your crimes, Robin?” His voice was strained. “If anything happens to me, these go out to the world.”
It was useless. Robin let him go and threw the stack of papers into the fire anyway and felt like sobbing like his sister, he felt so helpless. They were caught, like wriggling worms on a hook. Their only hope was that a higher power would stop Guy from destroying this town. It was out of his hands.
“Get out!” Robin shouted at him.
Little John wanted to go after Robin.
“I can’t believe that I’m doing this,” Marian whispered. They crouched outside Guy’s estate where Robin was being kept a prisoner inside. Her white skirt blew around her legs in the brisk New Hampshire wind. The gazebo was at her back. Marian was still in her costume dress to be May Day queen. Earlier she’d enjoyed the light, airy fabric, the way the scalloped neckline had fluttered against her collar bone, and she’d hoped Robin would appreciate the dress on her, too. She had envisioned this day going much differently.
After Robin had been dragged away by the sheriff, Marian had gone straight to Robin’s friends, and together, they’d hatched a plan to get to him. Now, Little John hunkered into his leather jacket next to the honeysuckles, dwarfing her as he contemplated the estate like a cat burglar.
“Just distract Guy,” Tuck told Marian. As if it was the most reasonable thing in the world. He plucked out the toothpick that he’d adopted as his new persona. His shaggy brown hair was a mess over his blue eyes. He’d become grungier the longer he’d stayed in this town. “We just need to sneak in and talk to Robin.”
“He’s fine talking toyou,” Marian said. “You can just waltz in there like you do everywhere else. You live there!”
Tuck glowered. He didn’t like to be reminded that this mission posed no danger to him. Little John, on the other hand, was different. If he was caught, he’d put Robin in some serious trouble.
Little John wiped a shaking hand over his forehead. He was a wreck. That afternoon, they’d closed the booths early since business was so slow. The Mayfair was officially dead. John had invested in the wrong thing again, but he wasn’t ready to give up. “We’re fighting this!” he said. Marian wasn’t sure if Robin would agree. He had walked away with the sheriff a broken man. “We could go to Richard,” John said. It was just one of his many ideas.
“Whatever we do, we can’t put Scarlett in danger,” Marian reminded him. That was enough to shut John up—he’d do anything to protect her. “Just find out what’s going on,” she said. “Then we’ll figure out how to fix this.”
And she would find a way to clear Robin’s name by proving Guy guilty… of everything. She’d have to make it so Guy didn’t suspect a thing; she was banking on hormones and nostalgia to reawaken his old feelings for her. He’d be an idiot if it worked, but Robin depended on her, whether he knew it or not.
“Uncle Franco… Pastor!” Little John nudged Tuck. She wasn’t sure how anyone saw him as the youth pastor anymore, but everyone was so caught up in their own drama, they’d never questioned this strange visitor. “Which way do we go in?”
Tuck pointed in the direction of the wing that was still under construction. It was where Guy had housed Robin before. She waved the boys away, and Tuck took charge. He knew where to go. They edged around the pool and headed into the gardens.
Now it was her turn. With every part of her crying out against it, she texted Guy and told him that she was outside in the garden and she wanted to talk. It took all her resolve to press “send” and then she settled into the swing bench to wait. It didn’t take long. Little John had disappeared with Tuck around the back of the estate only moments before Guy pushed open the beautiful French doors to the patio.
He’d freed his dark hair from its usual bun and it swung freely around his neck, though he’d slicked it back from his face in a more sinister style. His collar stuck out over his impeccable gray suit like he’d recently disposed of his tie, and the sweetness of his eyes was distorted with the bulging skin around his bruises.
Marian tried to look nonchalant with her heart pounding in her chest. It was hard to hide anything under the glaring sun, but she couldn’t sit on the delicate swing bench anymore and so she stood as he cut around the pool and came for her. The skirt of her elegant white dress twisted around her legs.
“You look absolutely fetching.” Guy reached out for her like there had never been any conflict between them. She didn’t understand him at all.
“I’m here to see Robin.” She’d decided to play this close to the truth.
He hesitated and then swept a hand towards the door in a grand gesture. “No one is stopping you.” Was this a trick? Gathering up her skirt, she straightened her shoulders and picked her way delicately to the door. His voice stopped her. “Though think of the consequences… you, in the bud of your journalistic career? Your reputation could be hurt. I wouldn’t be able to protect you after that, I’m afraid.”
It was a threat, of course. It filled her with fire, but she pretended it affected her the way he wanted. She hung back and turned helplessly to Guy. He grinned then tried to hide it with a more sincere look. He pointed to the gazebo behind them. “Let’s talk.”
She studied his face then nodded. Guy waited for her to come to him before he pressed his fingers into her back to whisk her into the Victorian structure. Vines wrapped around the lattice to create a little greenhouse inside. It was perfectly charming—except for the company. He led her to a bench and sat beside her, his legs colliding with hers.
“It’s to your credit that you’ve taken such an interest in my cousin,” he said. “He doesn’t deserve it. Do you remember half the things he did when we were children? He never left me to myself, always won every game. He took the best of everything.” His brown eyes lingered on her like he included her in that. “But you were always nice to me. You drew me a picture when I went home to England. My own cousins never understood me like you did.”
Why was he still hanging onto that? It made him sound like a crazy person, and for a horrifying moment, she believed that he was.
“Robin hasn’t changed, no matter how much you wish it,” he said. “Did you see how he tried to make me look—in front of everyone… in front of you?” His upper lip shook with powerful emotion. “I’m not a monster. I’m trying to run a business and he breaks out of prison to interfere, acting likeI’mthe criminal.”
