Everything I Do: a Robin Hood romance (Rosa Fitzwalter Book 1) (21 page)

She made a dismayed sound when she found out that her finger was bleeding, and lifted it out of the way, so that it wouldn’t stain the cloth that was on her lap.

“Oh!” Robin exclaimed as he noticed it, knitting his eyebrows.

He reached to take her hand in his. Without thinking he brought her injured finger against his lips, and as he did so he noticed that she was trembling, her large, green eyes fixed on his face, the color rising in her cheeks. Slowly, he released her hand, and she fumbled with the tunic, hiding it in its folds.

Robin was torn between feeling remorse for having flustered her and triumph for the same reason.

“So tell me,” he said as soon as he had recovered the use of his voice, “how has your day been? I hope you have been resting and getting back your strength, but I’m afraid that is a rather futile hope.”

Rosa smiled.

“No, indeed I
have
been resting,” she said avoiding his gaze, “something I don’t see anyone else in this camp doing, but still they wouldn’t let me do anything more than take some dirty clothes to the river and soak them.”

“You mean,” Robin said, raising an eyebrow, “they made you do the laundry?”

“Actually,” Rosa said laughing, “it was the other way round. I had to plead and beg and… well, mention quite a few times the fact that I am
actually
a woman before anyone would let me take the clothes out. For some absurd reason, they seemed to fear your wrath if they let me do it. Or perhaps they feared I should ruin their clothes maybe, since I am not used to manual work…”

Robin laughed, his mirth echoing loud and clear in the gathering darkness.

“I have been a little protective of you, it seems,” he said. “Although I don’t see but that it was good for them, to consider the needs of a woman for once. They
should
hesitate before letting a princess touch our muddied cloaks, and put her hands in the icy water, you know. ‘Tis only right,” he added eyeing her defiantly.

“I’m not sure I understand you,” Rosa said, putting her work aside. “Are we not meant to be free from rank and position even in this forest?”

“Free…!” Robin repeated in a whisper, as if to himself, with wonder.

He got up slowly, then came to her side squatting down beside her, his long legs folded beneath him, his rough deerskin boots touching her knee.

“Rosa,” he began, studying her face. “Rosa,” he repeated, closing his eyes as if he was in pain. “The reason you’re here is not to work for us, it’s not to wear yourself out like a common maid…”

“No,” she surprised him by saying. “That is not the reason I am here, of course not. But that doesn’t mean I can’t help make this place a bit more fit for human habitation…”

Robin looked at her incredulously for a moment, then promptly burst into laughter, his ready humor bubbling to the surface effortlessly.

“You will be the death of me, Stuart,” he said presently, “I was prepared to argue with you and now it seems I have nothing left to say.”

He became serious again.

“I wish I knew where the lines were, I wish I knew the correct thing to do,” he said, running his hand through his thick, black locks. “For once, I am not sure. I fear that should I make a mistake the consequences will be too grave to even consider. I am so unsure of everything…”

“You saved my life, master, you and your men” she interrupted him gently, “you gave me a home, you are all I live for now.” She paused as the reality of her statement sank in. “And frankly,” she continued, “I never was so happy or so well cared for in my father’s house.”

She stopped for a minute because she felt an acute pain in her heart at the mere mention of her father. Robin sensed her discomfort and reaching out, he gripped her shoulder in sympathy. She leaned against him. The muscles in his arm tensed and he wanted to say something to comfort her, but he couldn’t find the words, so he sat beside her, his eyes stinging and his jaw working, for he felt her pain as if it were his own.

“I want to live like you,” she continued in a moment, “I want to give whatever I can to this camp of brave men, of heroes, of sufferers. I want to do what little I can to help my land and my fellowmen, even through this remote way, by mending and washing your clothes. But then…”

“Then…?” Robin repeated gently when she hesitated.

“Your men would have every right to resent my presence here since I am so much trouble-”

“Resent!” Robin interrupted her in anger. “Who said that? They haven’t come to me with it, or they would have had their share of blows!”

“No, master,” Rosa said, laughing at his intense reaction in spite of herself, “no, no one said they resent me, but I see it and you do too, I’m sure; your men are a bit reserved towards me and they wonder how this will work out, as well they might.” She stopped to take a deep breath and when she spoke again her voice had dropped to a whisper. “I would like to earn their friendship.”

“Rosa, listen to me,” Robin said, turning her by the shoulders so that they were face to face, “the men, they all respect you immensely. Take my word for it. No man of mine would have done what you did, and these last few days you have proved yourself to be one of us in everything you did. Why, I haven’t heard one word of complaint come from your mouth, not for the hardness of your bed, nor the coolness of the water you have to bathe in, nor indeed for the fatigue and the pressure our mad schedule has brought on your still fragile health.”

He paused and looked at her, examining her face and trying to determine her emotions at his words.

“Now I too have seen their looks, as you said, and I know that some may be jealous that I am constantly at your side, but soon they will see that you are the best thing that has happened to us since… since I came to the forest and took over the leadership from Little John.”

She laughed aloud at this, and Robin closed his eyes to memorize the sound, the image of her happiness. He wanted to keep it with him always.

“I never truly laughed before I came here,” Rosa mused. “I never felt truly happy.”

“And you do now?” he asked almost in a whisper.

She nodded. “How could I not, with all these merry men around me, with the tall trees towering above me, and with…”

“Yes?” he prompted when her voice trailed off. “With…?”

“With you,” she said.

They were both still for a while, listening to the wind whistling through the branches, their hearts beating in harmony.

She was still close to him, although no longer leaning on him, and he couldn’t resist covering her fingers with his, as they sat there in quiet companionship. He caressed them slowly, discovering that they were chopped and cut from washing the clothes of his outlaws in freezing water.

He lifted them to his lips, feeling every small cut and bruise, his eyes watering at the injustice of it all.

“Your hands…” he said, swallowing hard, “your beautiful soft hands, they will be soon red and hard like a peasant’s.” He lifted his gaze to hers. “How can I not hate that? How can I reconcile myself to the fact that you are to live like this from now on?”

She only smiled. “And yet, I still choose to stay,” she said.

“It is agreed then,” he said getting up with a determined look on his face. Rosa did not know it then, but he was fighting with himself to quench all his doubts and reassure himself that it was the best thing to do.

It was settled, he suddenly, madly determined. She would stay. She would stay, and devil may take the consequences.

“There will be no talking of you leaving,” Robin repeated quietly, as she stood up by his side. “Not a single word of it, for it kills me even to think of it.”

He took her hand in his and pressed it as if to confirm their agreement. She nodded and relaxed against him, and he sensed that a tension, a fear in her heart had been chased away by his confirmation. He didn’t let go of her.

“You will stay,” he continued, “and you will be the princess of the forest,” his voice became husky, “and you will be allowed to do exactly as you please, whether it is lounging in the sunshine all day long, or working yourself to death tending to my ungrateful men’s various needs.”

He bent his head low over hers and rested his chin on her red curls, holding her to him.

“And you will never leave me, because with you by my side I can do anything. I can save the whole of England, I can conquer the usurper himself, I can feed every urchin of the streets. Whereas without you…” he stopped and waited for her to lift her eyes to his. “Without you I can’t even breathe,” he finished, lifting a strand of her hair delicately with his fingers, and bringing it to his lips reverently, as if it were made of rubies.

They returned to the camp as the sun began its slow descent, glowing with a happiness that was new to them both.

Robin cursed himself for missing his chance and not kissing her, for the desire had burned in him for a long time; but deep inside he knew he should bide his time and not press her too much all at once. Now more than ever he knew that even if she didn’t show it she has struggling hard to adapt to life in the forest and to earn a place among the men. He would give her time and encouragement, and he would wait. Forever, if he must.

Friar Tuck’s discerning eyes observed their flushed faces as they walked in the camp together, but they themselves didn’t see the look on his, their attention distracted by loud banging noises that came from a group of men ahead.

Julian was in the midst of a cluster of men, his sleeves rolled back to reveal his tanned muscles, his cheeks red with exertion and his eyes intent and serious. He was bending atop a small fire and sparks flew everywhere as with a hammer in his left hand he had began to bend his damaged sword into shape again. A few men had  gathered around him and were watching him in fascination, speechless for once.

As Robin approached, they made way for him, but Julian didn’t lift his eyes from his work.

“I sincerely hope you know what you are doing, my friend,” Robin said and laughter followed his words.

Julian continued as if he hadn’t heard, lifting for a second his right hand to wipe his brow, and then placing it in the same position as before, expertly.

“Would you like to try your hand at this, Robin Hood?” he said.

“I am afraid not,” Robin said after a slight hesitation, although those who knew him well recognized the sparkle that lit his eyes, and knew that he wouldn’t be able to resist a second invitation.

“I think he’s really good,” Alan said in admiration after a small pause during which only the sound of metal upon metal sliced the silence of the forest. “Will you do mine next?”

“Could you make me a new one?” Matt asked enthusiastically. “I can’t believe it! We have our own blacksmith!”

The men hugged each other in excitement, and Julian stopped his work, distracted. He turned to look at them and his constantly sad face bore an expression of impatience at their antics.

“Well, let’s not get carried away,” Robin said to his men, watching him. “We had better see first how much of a skill he’s got. Maybe he can’t do anything more than a little play at the craft...” 

Julian threw the hot hammer on the grass in exasperation, his sudden temper sending the men into peals of laughter.

“Would you like your heads flattened?” he said in anger. “’Cause a blacksmith can do that as well, you know.”

“Ooh, tough!” the men continued to laugh but more softly now, because they saw he was irritated.

“You will be very valuable around here, Julian, I hope you know that,” Robin said kindly and Julian nodded. He bent and picked up his hammer and turned to continue his work.

“You have worked as a blacksmith before?” Rosa asked with interest, but received no answer.

Julian went on striking the metal and the only indication he had heard her was that he pursed his lips in annoyance.

Rosa turned to go, but Robin took her arm to stop her. The men had fallen silent.

“I believe she asked you a question,” Robin said with threatening calm.

He received no answer save for the clanging of the hammer.

Furious now, he reached out his hand to take the tool, and Julian missed hitting him with the hot iron just by a tenth of an inch. Immediately he dropped the hammer and looked up in surprise.

“She asked you a question,” Robin repeated, not missing a beat. He could sense that he made everyone uncomfortable, but he couldn’t stop himself.

“Why, yes, madam,” Julian spat, after staring at Robin for a full half a minute, his gaze not meeting Rosa’s and the word ‘madam’ sounding like an insult on his lips, “I worked as a blacksmith for three years in a village to the north of Aix.” He stopped and clamped his lips shut as if he were determined not to be forced to say one more word to her. “It’s in France,” he added as an afterthought, with a smile, as if he was talking to a simpleton.

That was when Robin punched him in the face.