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She wanted to free herself . . . but she couldn’t. Or she needed to close her eyes . . . give in to the pleasure swarming like warm water over her . . . but she could not. Not here, not at the front of the hall, where everyone would see.

John might not take great care to hide his lust, but she could not-

A sudden shudder caught her by surprise, and her fingers tightened at the edge of the table. She needed to move . . . away . . . away from the demanding mouth and tongue that drove into her, sliding in her sleek warmth, teasing and luring her to a place she did not want to go.

As her attention skittered, trying to focus somewhere safe, she glanced at Will. His tanned face was flushed at the cheekbones, and his eyes seemed to be focused elsewhere-on a tapestry in the corner, mayhap, or even on a flickering torch. Marian watched him, drawn to the profile of his dark, emotionless face, to the strength of his firm chin dark with stubble, the full lips flattened in concentration . . . and as her own desire spiraled higher, she gave in.

She wanted it. She wanted him.

She no longer fought to ignore the slick heat between her legs, the throb of her tight little pearl . . . and she could not turn away from Will. She watched him as his own pleasure grew, and knew that she matched it, low and deep.

His cheeks sharpened as if he’d sucked in his breath, and she felt the faint trembling in the thigh pressed against her knee . . . and then, as she watched, his eyes fluttered for a moment, he drew in a short, sharp breath . . . and then, his cheeks flushing darker, he tensed . . . then silently eased.

The beauty of his harsh face, the controlled intensity, the way his eyelids swept down for a moment, then up again . . . the gentling of his mouth . . . oh, God . . . made her belly swirl deeply, then suddenly shoot lower, down, and she let herself go, arching a little beneath the table.

She may have gasped or closed her eyes, or even sighed. . . . Marian didn’t know. . . . But when she came back to herself moments later, no one seemed to have noticed anything. She felt flushed and warm, and a trickle of sweat trailed down her spine. Her belly had softened and she still throbbed between her legs . . . but the insistent tongue had retreated. The demanding hands had moved away. Warmth pulsed gently through her.

And she looked over and saw Will watching her.

Their eyes met and then he tore his away. But not before she saw the truth in their darkness.

The truth that made her belly burn again with want.

At last, the meal . . . which had seemed to go on much too quickly at first, but then had slowed to an interminable crawl after John’s little surprise underneath the table . . . rolled to an end.

Marian, whose knees had recovered, felt her belly begin to pitch with nervousness. Either her plan was going to work or she was going to find herself alone with John in that room with the massive bed, the restraints and whips . . . and the memories of nights past.

Or, worse, in that situation and accused of treason.

Her mouth felt parched, and when she clapped a hand to her belly, the nausea wasn’t completely feigned. “I do not feel well, my lord,” she said. It was not difficult to appear wan and weak. “ ’ Tis the meat, I am sure of it.”

“Now, my lady, ’tis no sense in delaying the inevitable,” John told her. Yet, he didn’t look as robust as he had appeared earlier. Or mayhap, she only hoped he didn’t. “ ’ Tis not the meat but your fears, methinks. Come, now, and I shall put your worries to rest.”

He offered his arm, and Marian, her belly swirling, took it reluctantly. She felt the weight of Will’s stare on her back, but of course she dared not look at him as she straightened her spine and allowed John to lead her away.

“I feel a bit ill,” Lady Joanna said in a shrill voice. Marian paused, looking back at her in relief, and noted that the woman’s face did appear to be a bit pale. Aye, oh, aye!

John turned toward the other lady and Marian took the opportunity to duck slightly and jam a finger down her throat. As the prince turned back, her belly revolted, and she upended its contents on the floor, splattering John’s fine boots.

“Peste!” he exclaimed, stumbling away. His face glowed with annoyance, but Marian didn’t care. She just hoped that Alys’s special decoction would begin to work soon.

At the least it seemed as though Joanna had been affected already, and mayhap the others would soon follow.

“My pardon, my lord,” Marian said, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. She grasped the edge of the table, trying to appear weak. It wasn’t difficult.

“Your false illness will not keep you from my bed this night,” John hissed, grabbing at her arm with strong fingers. Yet, a fine sheen glistened over his forehead that Marian hoped meant he would have his own problems soon enough.