"To Be Worthy" (Guy/Marian- Historical Romance- PG 13): Chapter IV
SUMMARY: Betrayed by his latest master and mocked by the cruel hand of destiny, Sir Guy of Gisborne returns to Nottingham twenty years after his banishment determined to reclaim the life which should have been his.
AUTHOR: Lexie aka lillianschild
RATING: PG-13/R (probably in later chapters)
FANDOM: Robin Hood
PAIRING: Guy/Marian
GENRE: Romance
Disclaimer: Tiger Aspect Productions and the BBC are free to claim whatever they own of this piece, except Guy's thoughts and my words which are ours to keep. lol.
A/N: Set in an alternate Series 1 where Guy has never met Vasey before his arrival in Nottingham, this fic will explore what impact an earlier acquaintance with Marian might have had on Guy's life and ultimate fate.
READ THE BEGINNING HERE
READ THE PREVIOUS CHAPTER HERE
CHAPTER IV
Mounted on his destrier, Guy scanned the men on the opposite side of the field and made a quick assessment of the contenders as he waited patiently for the charge to begin. Stormbringer, used to the battlefield like his master, remained quiet as well; only the occasional flicking of the animal's ears revealed its urge to see action again.
Then Gisborne trained his eyes on Sir Edward, waiting for the signal to begin. Most of the knights were young and eager and Guy had learnt from experience how easy it was to fall prey to them if one hesitated even a millisecond when the lord's arm was lowered.
The Sheriff, dressed impeccably though not ostentatiously, was sitting at the side of the field. However, just like the previous night, he seemed to be absent in every way but bodily.
Guy remembered his father and how much his parents had loved each other. Roger of Gisborne would have mourned the loss of Ghislaine just as deeply as Sir Edward was mourning his wife. Unlike the Lord of Knighton, though, fate had spared the head of the Gisborne family, and the reaper had taken both husband and wife during the fire, leaving their defenceless children to cry over them.
The memory was still painful, an open wound that hadn't healed, and the feeling of guilt haunted Guy even now. He knew better than to let old baggage and sad recollections unsettle him the day of the tournament when any distraction could mean not just defeat but many a time death. It was better to think pleasant thoughts; there had been so few of those lately... until Lady Marian.
Her graceful beauty and the passionate nature he'd spied hidden behind the mask she was being forced to wear had captured his heart in the hall. She'd brought his anaesthetised senses back to life, stirred emotions in him he'd believed long dead after years of hardship and loss, making every intimate encounter in his life pale when compared to the yearning brought about by the mere sight of her unbound hair or the brush of his lips against her knuckles.
Last night had been the realisation of a dream, a folly he wouldn't dare to repeat. No matter the warm and unexpected feelings she'd awoken in him, he should have never approached her, least of all touch her, aware as he had been of her unchaperoned state. He ought not to have lingered in her company for so long, beguiled by her magnetic aura.
It was foolish to delude himself; once she learnt about his past, whatever attraction she might have felt towards him last night would be crushed. He'd considered telling her he was no stranger to Nottingham, that he'd been born and raised here, that had it not been for the cruel hand of fate and Nottingham's complicity, he'd now be sitting at the Council of Nobles and free to woo her away from Winchester's clutches. Sharing his history and his old and strained relationship with Huntingdon might have earned her sympathy, but he still had too much self-respect to welcome anybody's compassion or pity. As things stood, nothing serious could ever happen between them. Therefore, there was no point in opening up and revealing his conflictive rapport both with the King and her late betrothed, not even when he knew himself to have been the unjustly injured party both as a child and as a grown-up.
Hopeless as his yearning was, his mind kept conjuring images of Lady Marian in his arms; her pure heart awoken to blossoming passion by his tender kisses and gentle caresses. These thoughts did nothing but fire his libido and his fidgeting in the saddle communicated his own anxiety to Stormbringer, which started to prance. Gripping the reins and tightening his knees he brought the animal under control, trying to stay focused on practical matters- winning the melée.
The earl of Knighton finally gave the signal and Guy dug his heels into Stormbringer. His horse broke into a gallop ahead of the other knights on his side, and in an instant all the destriers leapt forward crossing the space between both sides. Guy's sharp eye located Winchester's man and urged his destrier in that direction, aiming his lance straight at the man's shield, intent on dismounting him.
It all happened so quickly. One moment he was charging against Winchester's man and the next he lay sprawled on the ground in agony, his left arm feeling as if it'd been torn off at his shoulder. Stormbringer stood a few paces away seeming as confused as his master, sniffing at the lance broken in half at his feet.
The fighting continued around Guy as he struggled against the nausea of pain and commanded his body to move to safety away from the trampling hooves. He was an easy prey and it didn't take long for Winchester's knight to bring Gisborne back to his knees by aiming his sword at Guy's injured arm, which had been left unprotected when it could no longer hold the weight of the heavy shield.
“You're out of your league, Northerner,” Winchester's man taunted him.
“I can still take you with one arm,” glared Guy as he determinedly got back to his feet despite the excruciating pain.
“Get off the field while you still can, Gisborne. I wouldn't like to ruin your pretty body for the ladies. If you hurry up, you can catch the next stretcher for the vanquished on your way out of the field,” replied the earl's man smugly, turning his destrier back to the melée.
Impotence and rage battled in Gisborne's chest and threatened to spill over. It was a feeling Guy was no stranger to, an emotion that many a time had pushed him to the edge and made him come face-to-face with the seed of darkness he knew he carried inside, a restrained violence that could destroy everything and everyone around him and doom him forever. It was a powerful force which had cost him dearly in the past, and he'd be a fool to risk it all by letting emotions rule him once again.
Swallowing the bitter pill of humiliation, he made a strategic retreat with his head held high, avoiding the Greyfriar and his assistants by walking in the opposite direction. There was no way on this earth he'd leave the field on a stretcher when he had two feet that could carry him to the tent where his injuries would be treated.
*~ *~ *~ *~ *~ *~ *~ *~ *~ *~ *~ *~ *~ *
Lady Marian busied herself around the trestle table, arranging the medicines, bandages and basins that Tuck would need to see to his patients. She'd lost count of how long she'd spent on the task, aligning things which needn't be moved anymore and fussing about the tiniest detail; she simply had to do something or go crazy as the minutes went by and there was no news of Sir Guy.
“He'd have been brought here already if his injury were serious,” Meg suggested, sensing Marian's disquiet.
She wanted to be as positive as her sixteen-year-old cousin, but she'd seen the heavy collision and his tumble from the destrier; it hadn't appeared like a minor injury to her when they'd both witnessed the clash from their vantage point in the tower. She'd been too overcome by anxiety to stay behind and wait to see Sir Guy stir; she'd rushed downstairs followed closely by Meg, praying for him to be alive.
“I told you he wasn't dead!” shouted the younger cousin with a large smile the minute the flap at the entrance to the tent moved to reveal Sir Guy of Gisborne in his traditional black garb.
“I'm a hard nut to crack,” he replied with a lopsided grin.
“Your arm!” exclaimed Lady Marian, noticing the way he was holding his left arm against his body.
“Is it broken?” frowned Meg.
“I think the problem's my shoulder,” he said quietly when Marian took a step forward in his direction.
“I'll go and fetch Tuck,” offered Meg, hurrying out of the tent.
Marian made a move to stop her, but it was already too late. She was once again alone with the first man who'd ever robbed her of sleep with a brush of his lips against her knuckles and made her body burn either with one look or his mere proximity. Common sense and the rules of propriety told her she should step out of the tent and wait for Tuck to arrive, and yet she remained rooted to the spot.
“Is this man Tuck a black Greyfriar by any chance?”
“Yes, he's our physician. Have you met him?”
“He was hanging around the field with two assistants and a stretcher,” he explained with a grimace.
“You should have waited for them.”
“I'm sure there are others more seriously hurt than I. I'm not an invalid.”
“I didn't suggest you were but still... “
“My injury can wait. I'm not bleeding to death,” he said gruffly. “Forgive me... my lady.”
“It's all right. It's the pain speaking,” she smiled, trying to cover up how awkward she felt standing so close to him.
Marian told herself she should get over it and be as professional as the situation allowed. She was there to nurse the injured and Sir Guy was just that, a patient in need of medical attention.
“Have you tried moving your left arm away from your body?”
“No.”
“Could you do it now? Gently,” she suggested, wondering if he was able to hear the drumming of her heart now that they were a mere armful away.
He made the attempt but blanched, overcome by a bout of agonizing pain.
“Don't strain it. I'd better examine it more closely. Would you mind disrobing?”she stopped him, hoping the warmth she was feeling all over wasn't showing in her cheeks.
“I'm afraid I won't be able to do it on my own,” he replied after a slight pause, an indefinable emotion flaring in his breathtaking blue-grey eyes, which found an echo in her.”I'll wait for the Friar, my lady.”
“Since Meg hasn't come back yet I have a feeling Tuck has got his hands full at the moment. You're clearly in pain; I can assist you if you don't mind.”
“I can wait,” he insisted, gritting his teeth.
“Are you always this stubborn? You look as if you're about to faint,” she admonished him. “Let me have a look now,” she added with a firm voice, which belied the trembling in her fingers as she unbuckled his sword belt.
Even through the layers of clothing she could tell the strength of his thighs after years on horseback as well as the flat belly and shapely muscles resulting from heavy training and warfare. It took an incredible measure of willpower to distance herself from the overwhelming masculinity in front of her eyes.
“I owe you an apology. I think I was rather presumptuous last night and didn't behave in the way of a gentleman.”
“There was no harm done.”
“Still...”
“I accept your apology, Sir Guy,” she cut him off, keeping focused on the task at hand to avoid meeting his piercing eyes. “Now I need to take your surcoat and gambeson... and I'm afraid you're a bit too tall.”
His response was to kneel down in front of her.
“Tell me if I'm hurting you,” she said quietly, easing the items of clothing over his arms and shoulders one by one and trying to touch him as little as possible.
She'd been so naïve believing she'd be able to see him as just another wounded knight to nurse. Her determination came tumbling down the moment she removed his gambeson and his upper body was revealed in all its glory. As worrying as the sight of his swollen and purplish left shoulder was, she welcomed it since it helped shift her focus of attention away from Gisbone's naked chest and shapely biceps.
Guy clenched his teeth and bit back a French expletive, overcome by pain and the bittersweet experience of having Lady Marian touch his bare skin for the first time. Although the fair maid wasn't the only woman who'd ever seen him in a state of undress, none had ever affected him this much. In fact, the obvious arousing effect the sight of his nakedness had had on her made his resolution to curve his lust and remember the unconquerable social gap between them even harder.
“I can't feel any broken bones,” she said after a while. “Do you think you can close your hand in a fist?” she added, taking a step back.
Still feeling the soothing ghost of her touch on his skin, Guy fought the bout of pain which seized him every time he tried to move and followed her request.
“Well, it seems you were right. Nothing's broken. The bone's been pulled from the socket in your shoulder. We need to put it back,” she explained, walking towards the trestle table to look for a potion to numb the pain. “Drink this.”
“Poppies?” he asked, smelling the preparation.
“Yes, it's going to make my work easier.”
“You know how to do this?”
“You sound surprised. Unlike many representatives of the fair sex, I'm not squeamish. I'm hopeless at embroidery, so I pestered Tuck until he taught me a few things that could come in handy,” she smiled, taking the empty goblet from his hand.
“I knew the moment I saw you, you were anything but the usual damsel in distress. All right. I trust you. Do it.”
“Let's wait a little bit for the potion to work.”
“No, I'll be fine.”
“Sir Guy...”
“My lady,” he cut her off resolutely.
“Men,” grumbled Marian, taking hold of his left arm and pulling.
Exhaling the breath he'd been holding, he unclenched his teeth and opened his mesmerising blue-grey eyes to meet Marian's concerned gaze.
“Thank you, my lady,” he said quietly, staring into her deep blue orbs with an open yearning that went beyond the physical before clouding his sudden show of vulnerability by lowering his sooty eyelashes and reaching out for his clothes.
“Sir Guy...” she began, unsure of what to say next, only to be interrupted by Meg and Tuck's return.
Her emotions being in a turmoil, Marian thanked the Virgin for their timely arrival.
GO TO CHAPTER V