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She’d approached him early this morn, after the breaking of the fast, and asked if he could spare some time to teach her to play better. That she even dared to come near him after his assault on her in the stairwell was shocking enough . . . but to ask for his assistance? Will could not understand it.

Madwoman.

She should fear him. Had they been anywhere last night but that dank wet place . . .

“I do not see it,” she replied, looking up at him.

He yanked his gaze away, turning his attention back to the game and away from her serious green eyes. “There. See you the bishop?”

“Ah, aye.”

He glanced up to see her full lips purse in understanding, and he was overcome by a wave of annoyance and frustration. What was he doing here, sitting with Marian of Morlaix, teaching her to play chess?

And ’twas not even prudent that they meet in the great hall, for fear John would hear that they were no longer adversaries. Nor in her chamber, where he might peer through the peephole-and where there were other distractions.

Nay, they must sit out in the pear orchard, beneath a tree, behind a low, grassy hill far beyond the watchful eyes of John’s court. Where they could not see . . . or be seen.

At the least, it was in the daylight.

Yet Will could not argue that teaching her to play better chess was a fine idea, particularly in light of John’s intent to entertain her privately. His “illness” had delayed this plan, mayhap even for tonight as well, but it would be only a matter of time before he recovered.

“And so, if I do such . . . ,” she murmured, lifting her own bishop and moving it, “I shall prevent your little trap.”

“Indeed. But do not think that I’ve missed your plan,” Will said, lifting his queen to take her bishop. “I would not allow you to place me in check so easily.”

She glanced up at him and he saw a bit of a smile twitch the corner of her mouth. He tightened his lips to keep from responding in kind.

“But you have now fallen into my trap,” she said, and moved her knight. “Check . . . mate.”

Marian was looking at him, arching one of those fine coppery brows in the same manner she’d done when they were younger and she’d come upon him and Locksley spying on a bathing maidservant. As if she realized that she’d won because his mind was elsewhere.

Chagrined that he’d been distracted, he looked down and saw that she had indeed won the game. He wasn’t annoyed that she’d won, only that he’d allowed his thoughts to wander. Mayhap with the suggestions he’d given her, John would be distracted as well, and would allow Marian to play well enough to win.

She smoothed her overgown, which drew his attention to the curve of her breasts. Her slender hands were quick and sure, and then she looked up at him again. This time, there was a decidedly different expression on her face. One that made his mouth go dry and his palms dampen. He could merely lean forward. . . .

Nay. Lord, no.

He stood abruptly, causing her to crane her neck to look up at him. “You seem to have learned quite enough this day,” he said. Glancing toward the keep, he felt a heavy weight in the pit of his belly. John had been seen up and about in his chamber early this day, slow but mobile. Marian’s reprieve was soon to be over. If not anight, then the next.

Unless he could think of another way to help her evade the inevitable.

He looked back down at her, then had to drag his gaze away. She could not know how inviting her expression appeared. God help her if she looked on John with those soft eyes and parted lips.

She tried to stand, but her feet tangled in her hem and he grabbed her arm to keep her from falling. She lost her balance and fell into him, soft and sweet, and he thrust her away.

“I’ve been too long away from my duties,” he said, giving a little bow.

And he fled.

Marian watched him go, frustration causing her to stamp her foot. However, the grass muffled any sound she might have made, taking some of the satisfaction from the movement. She could not have been more obvious if she’d torn off her clothes and leapt upon him.

She’d arranged the whole thing-the excuse for privacy, a quiet place far from the prying eyes of the keep and of Robin’s men-and she could not have been more overt.

His desire was there. She could see it, hot and bright, burning in his eyes when he thought she wasn’t looking. But she had been, and it had caused a slow, churning burn deep in her belly.

There was only one other explanation. It had to be that he did not think she wanted him to touch her.

So she would have to make herself perfectly, unambiguously clear.

Marian blew the horn to call Bruse, who’d been posted a discreet distance away, and gathered up the chess set. She would ensure that poor John would be sleeping like an infant this night, and William de Wendeval would find himself utterly and otherwise occupied.

Filled with apprehension, Will pounded on the door to Marian’s chamber. It was late in the day, well after the midday meal from which she-as well as John-had been absent.