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Marian looked at it, immediately recognizing the bit of fabric. She hadn’t even noticed the narrow trim was missing, but quickly realized where she must have lost it: in the cave where she and Robin had . . . been . . . two days ago.

And Will had found it. And made . . . the right . . . conclusion. She grimaced.

“In the future,” he continued as the sound of more dull hoofbeats came pounding, “I suggest you find a safer place than the middle of the forest to search for your lover. ’Tis foolish to wander where any might see or find you.”

Before she had the chance to reply, Bruse and Fargus burst into view brandishing their swords as they galloped up.

“Hold!” she shouted, raising her hands to stop them. The last thing she needed was for them to attack the sheriff. Although ’twould likely be an overmatched battle, with the sheriff and his warhorse coming out the victors.

“Lady?” Bruse asked, slightly out of breath, eyeing the sheriff warily. He moved toward her, maneuvering his horse adeptly between his mistress and Will.

Marian thought she saw a glint of approval in the sheriff ’s eyes as his mount flared his nostrils furiously, but it disappeared.

Instead, he asked, “Is this yours?” Dangling the ribbon from a dark hand, he caught her with his dark eyes, his gaze piercing her coldly.

He wanted confirmation that she’d been in the cave with Robin, and by the saints, she’d give it to him. “Aye.” She walked easily past Bruse and reached to pluck it from his fingers. “I had no idea I’d lost it. Many thanks for returning it.”

“Mayhap next time, you’ll take better care not to leave evidence of your presence languishing about. It could be dangerous to you.”

“More dangerous than the Sheriff of Nottinghamshire?” she asked pertly. “That I cannot fathom.”

He scowled at her well-placed barb, then wheeled his mount and started off toward the keep without another word. She watched him go, admiring his easy grace in the saddle . . . and the width of his shoulders, the thick dark hair that just brushed them, the powerful thighs that clamped around the warhorse.

And she wished that he were not the man she knew him to be.

CHAPTER 13

T he day of the archery contest dawned gray and wet, and showed no inclination toward changing into more pleasant weather. Droplets glittered in the morning light and gray drizzle cooled the air as the sun rose behind smoky clouds. Nevertheless, the competition would commence just after the midday meal in the hall, for John would not be denied his pleasure-for the match, nor for springing his trap upon Robin Hood.

After coming upon Marian in the forest the day before, Will had returned to the keep and managed to keep the prince occupied, distracted with his plans to capture Robin Hood the next day. They’d plotted, drinking wine, throughout the evening and into the night before John sought his bed. This gave Will a needed reprieve and, he supposed, Marian a quiet night.

Unless Locksley had found his way into the keep and her chamber.

Better him than Will. At the least, she would welcome the outlaw.

His jaw tight, he dismissed those thoughts and turned his attention to the archery contest. Will knew that Locksley would be unable to resist the challenge to attend the competition, and that he would win the contest. There was no one in the county who had the same skill with a longbow; hence, John had made the prize too rich for the man to pass up. A gold arrow, which could be melted down to share among the poor Locksley made such a show of protecting, would be an irresistible lure.

Though he didn’t sit at the high table during the midday meal, Will could not help but search for Marian, as if to ascertain whether she looked rested . . . or not . . . after her night away from the Court of Pleasure.

But he didn’t see her. Instead, no sooner had he left the hall and strode outside than Marian’s master-at-arms accosted him in the rain-dampened bailey.

His ruddy face appeared strained, and his eyes were lit with worry. The man gave a little bow, just enough to show respect but nothing more. “My lord sheriff,” said the man. “I do no’ wish to trouble you now, but I bear bad tidings.”

“What is it?” Will asked, actually stopping in his tracks.

“My lady . . . she is gone. She ha’ said she willn’t stay in Ludlow any longer and she ha’ gone. . . .” Here the man’s voice dropped low and he glanced around, then back to Will. “She ha’ gone to that Robin Hood. She claims she will be safer there, though I cannot trow how it could be safe . . . being wi’ a bandit in the woods.”

Will was enraged. The woman was mad. If John learned that she’d joined the outlaw . . .

And yet, Will could not deny her reasons for doing so. He’d even considered sending her off with the bandit. At the least with Locksley, she would be safe from John . . . and from himself.

Aye. From the both of them.

But he had a bigger concern at the moment. “She went off . . . alone?” Surely she wouldn’t have been so foolish.