Scarlet Page 56


He shook his head. “I should have known. When you were so angry about me treating noblewomen differently, and you spoke like that . . . I think I knew.”

I scoffed. “You didn’t know, Rob.”

He sighed. “No, I didn’t, but I should have. I saw you steal the ribbon from Gisbourne’s things, I knew when you spoke, I had all these inklings that I didn’t want to put together.” He swallowed. “I met you once. You probably don’t remember. You were just a little girl. I passed through your land when I left for the Crusades.” He touched his chest. “You and your sister made me a garland of some little flowers for luck.”

“I weren’t so little,” I told him. Even knowing how angry he were with me, the notion that he did notice me all those years past sent my cheeks blushing. “Or I didn’t think I were. It were a fair bit more than a year before the business with Gisbourne, though, so I reckon I were little.”

“I should have known, Scar, when I saw your eyes. I didn’t want to know.”

“I didn’t want you to know, either.”

“Why did you and your sister run away from home?” he asked.

I sniffed. “Joanna were the only person who meant anything to me. And I to her. My parents had signed my contract to Gisbourne, and it were expected that an offer for her from a Scottish lord would arrive any day. They had so much land and no money to keep it, but they couldn’t sell it because it were our dowries. Gisbourne and this other lord came courting with coin, and my parents jumped at the chance.” I shook my head. “We would be so far apart, and,” I whispered, screwing my eyes tight against the notion, “I were so scared of him. My parents introduced us and he were allowed to take me walking in the garden. Going with him, my body felt like ice all over. Couldn’t explain it, but he gave me such an awful feeling. I sent my maids to talk to his servants, and the stories I heard from them put chills in my blood. When I told my parents I wouldn’t marry him, they said I were a headstrong girl and didn’t know best. So we ran.” My teeth bit hard into my lip, twisting it ’bout till it felt like a worm in my mouth. “She would have stayed. She would have married her Scottish lord. It were me.”

“Who made her leave?”

My eyes hooked into the floor and didn’t let go none.

“She made her own decision, Scar. She was older than you.”

“Didn’t matter. If I hadn’t been a coward, she would have stayed. And if she stayed, she wouldn’t be dead.”

The words fell soft between us, and they settled and grew till all I could think of were the quiet. Then Rob sighed. “Why couldn’t you trust me with this? Why couldn’t you tell me?” he asked.

I looked up and his eyes were on me, bleak and open and reaching toward me. “Because you’re honorable, Rob, and by your honor, you should give me back to him.”

He shook his head. “You aren’t a horse. Gisbourne doesn’t own you, and I won’t return you to him against your will. And as for my honor, it’s of two minds about the situation.”

I squirmed. “Is either of them good for me?”

He smiled, but it weren’t a real smile. “Gisbourne’s a monster. I told you I would protect you with my life, and I would spend my whole life keeping girls like you from men like him.”

“But my father made the promise,” I said. I knew he were going to say it.

“No,” he said. His voice made me look at his eyes again. “No. You’re engaged, Scar. All the rest, I should have known, but that—” I’ve seen the ocean but a few times in my life, and one of them were during this rough storm. The sky were black and pierced with angry veins of light, and the water roiled like it were boiling in a pot. It were all I could think of, looking at Rob’s eyes. “Letting me think you were unattached? That’s the worst damn lie you ever told.”

The pain were gone, and my heart beat against my chest. My mouth went dry, like my whole body didn’t want me to ask what I were ’bout to. “Why?”

He shook his head, and lightning cracked ’cross the storm of his face. “Don’t ask me that, Scar. Marian. Whatever your name is.”

I stood. “Why can’t I ask?”

He stood too, coming over to me. He were taller, tall enough to look down and make me feel small. His gaze most often made me feel bigger than I were. His thumb ran back ’long my jaw, slotting in front of my ear, the rest of his hand around the back of my neck. My breath flew away. “Because you’re engaged, and because even if you weren’t, you’re with John.”

“I’m not,” I said.

His hand pushed me away, and he sounded angry but his eyes just looked like I’d stabbed him. “Well, then that makes you a whore.”

My eyes set to burning at that awful word. “You would say that!” I snapped. “Gisbourne is a monster, so I can’t belong to him, but John’s a nice sort, so he’s all right to own me, ain’t he? He says he loves me so it don’t matter how I feel, do it? He didn’t care none and neither do you.”

He grabbed my arms. “Scar, you kiss him, you sleep with him, you’re alone with him—what the hell do you want me to think?”

“Why are you thinking ’bout me at all?”

“I’m not.” He looked at me, straight in the eye, and pushed me off. “I won’t.”

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