Page 12 of Robin and Marian
“Guy will be hosting it,” Richard continued, “—he bought that old house in Nottingham from me and all the surrounding properties. He’s done really well for himself, kind of what I wanted for you. I’d pinned my hopes on you.” He sighed. “What’s done is done. The plan is for me to announce my successor and I want you there.”
Robin was confused. “Why?”
Richard bellowed out a laugh. “Don’t get too excited,Robin Hood. I only want you to come for the celebration. You’re not inheriting a thing.” Richard clucked his tongue, his gaze running over his grandson. “And shave and cut that hair. Maybe take a shower while you’re at it.” With that, he hung up the phone in decidedly good spirits.
Robin watched his grandfather leave, his heart thudding dully in his chest. He was afraid to take this in. Had he been left here without a visit or any news from home because Richard couldn’t bear the disappointment of seeing him again? It sounded like his grandfather wouldn’t have been as hard on the others for doing the same thing, and for the first time Robin wondered what Richard would’ve done if he’d known the truth.He never could.There was no sense in making Scarlett hurt for something Robin had already paid for.
A niggling voice of logic warned him that prison wasn’t even close to the price he’d face when he returned to the scene of the crime. His friends hated him now. Most of his family had disowned him. He was fooling himself into believing that Marian would ever look at him the way she had that night. He’d hurt her. She felt sorry for him and that’s why she had helped him. Nothing more.
And then there was the matter of Guy. He’d certainly taken advantage of Robin’s fall. What was he doing to Nottingham now? Did it matter? Everything familiar that Robin yearned and hoped to see would never be the same. He’d receive no grace at home, and Richard probably knew that. Would attending this retirement party be part of Robin’s punishment? He prayed not, but either way Robin had to face this. He had no choice.
Chapter 5
Robin was back in Nottingham, and it was all Marian’s fault! But what else was she supposed to do? As soon as Marian had heard how he’d rescued the literacy teacher and how that had put a target on his back, she’d had to find a way to get him released on parole. He’d been up for it before, but no one had been willing to provide character witnesses until now. A few victims had even sat through his parole hearing to appeal against it—her very own Aunt Elinor had been one of them. Little John too.
But the public outcry after her article had been overwhelming. So Robin had been released to attend his grandfather’s retirement party… where she’d be there as Guy’sspecial guest. That meant a week of brushing past Robin in the halls of the King estate, a week of enduring accusatory looks from his enemies. One thing was certain—if Robin tried to thank Marian in his usual flirtatious way, she’d give him the set-down he deserved.
She slouched down in her seat next to her driver as she watched the King Estate stretch bigger before her. Her nerves felt tangled up like yarn. Her editor had had no idea what a hailstorm the article would rain down on them. Guy was furious that his own paper had been the one to break the story that got his guilty cousin released. He’d easily excused Marian (for some inexplicable reason), but Ana’s job was on the line. Her editor had practically screamed at Marian that if she was going to cover the retirement party, she was supposed to make Guy shine. Marian wasn’t allowed—under any circumstances—to write articles where Robin stole the show. Elly intervened to suggest with a wink that it would only be permissible if Marian managed to dig up some dirt on the thief, and Ana nodded in agreement.
Marian only wanted to get this retirement party over with and start putting out her resumes again. As soon as she could, she’d run away from everyone and everything. The car stopped at the iconic entrance of the mansion, and Marian got ready to pay her driver, who was already sizing up the King Estate with disbelieving eyes. “Who lives here?”
Before she could get into it, her car door opened. The valets must be working overtime for Richard’s celebration. She looked up to see that it was none other than Robin holding her door.
“Oh,” she said in surprise as he bundled her out of the vehicle. It was all she said before he retrieved her baggage too—all one-handed. His other arm was in a black brace.
He looked different. She’d seen plenty of pictures of him from prison in the last few weeks from more hard-hitting media outlets—shaggy hair, unshaven, and defiant looks. Those had been taken before he’d been cleaned up for his parole hearing. The cameras had only gotten side profiles of him as he’d answered questions tersely, looking serious. And now? He looked stronger and bigger. He wore jeans and a black Henley with long sleeves. She stared at him. He was less like that model that graced the covers of those magazines and more like a man. Real and breathing.
He set her baggage on the ground and paid the driver. His sleeve slid up his good arm so that she saw a black ace of spades tattooed on his forearm. It looked Celtic. His eyes met hers when he caught her staring. An unsure look flashed through his expression before he tugged the sleeve down with a smile. His eyes crinkled up at the sides and he tapped the pillar next to her. He was the same ol’ Robin. One step closer and that arm would be around her.
“Marian!” There was so much meaning packed in his voice that she fought for a reply, until he said, “You didn’t write me!”
If he wanted to break through her walls, that did it. “I was busy writing articles about how much I hate embezzling,” she retorted.
He nodded knowingly, as if expecting this play of words between them, but she’d had enough. She wasn’t the same girl he’d left—Marian kept both feet on the ground like she should’ve done before. She picked up her own luggage while Robin tried to help her. “I wanted to thank you—” he began.
“Don’t!” She held up her hand. “Don’t, Robin. I did what I did out of professional concern and nothing more.” With great daring, she snatched her last bag from him and she noticed that he gathered his own luggage from the ground—it wasn’t much. He’d come the same time she had. What rotten luck! She didn’t knock or wait for the butler to open the door for her, but pushed her way inside.
Robin looked amused and walked through too. “Thank you, Marian. And here I thought chivalry was dead.”
Before she could retort, she stopped in the foyer to stare at the sacrilege before her. It looked like a gaudy Vegas atrium lobby inside. The cute medieval look with the burnished hardwood floors and the cozy hearths were gone, replaced by walls and floors of polished white-and-yellow marble, complete with an expansive wet bar made for a bachelor pad. Guy’s updates weren’t exactly classy.
Stepping beside her, Robin was silent as he took it all in. When he saw her startled face, he raised a brow at her. “You don’t like it?”
She was stunned. On one hand, it was daring like a modern art piece or a… a… big carnival tent. She couldn’t say that aloud, but she knew Robin guessed her thoughts by his curled lip. “Well, the years have been kind toyou… at least,” he said.
Before she could answer, a racket by the French windows made her turn. A thin wire sliced through the crack and rocked back and forth until she heard a series of clicks, and then a hand pushed through.
“Tuck!” Robin looked exasperated. He dropped his things onto the nearest settee and pulled the window open all the way. A wiry guy hopped through. He looked very young, scrawny and scruffy, with belligerent eyebrows and bushy auburn hair. Tattoos of crosses marked his chest and arms and fingers. He wore a jean shirt unbuttoned to the navel. It was paired with darker jeans like a convict.He was a convict.Marian recognized him now. He’d gotten out with Robin for good behavior.
“You can go through the door, Tuck!” Robin said.
Tuck glanced over at Marian and grinned broadly. “She’s pretty. Is shethe one?”
Robin reddened. “Um, no…” He ran his hands nervously through his hair, and Marian watched with interest. For once, he was the one full of blushes.
“Not anymore,” Tuck guessed. “I’ll pray for you.” He looked upward. “Lord, help these two star-crossed lovers to overcome their sexual tension so that they might marry and have beautiful bab—!”
Robin shoved him. “Not now, Tuck.” He desperately tried to redirect him. “Marian, meet Tuck.
