“I offered her money.”
“And she accepted?”
“What? You think someone would turn down money?”
“No, it’s just—” I swallowed. My throat still hurt. “All the stories I heard about her made me think she was evil or something. I’d never heard a story of her accepting coins before. I always thought you would have to…to sell your soul or something.”
Truth be told, I was frightened of stories about magic and witches and all the rest. I could fight soldiers but I couldn’t fight magic. Magic was like ghosts—I knew they weren’t real, but it still frightened me all the same.
“Well, rest assured, I didn’t sell my soul,” Baron said. “And you’re getting better, so there’s no need for you to worry about it.” He returned to dabbing salve onto my midriff, but his mind seemed a thousand miles away from what he was doing.
Our conversation had sapped away all my energy. Baron was smart. He could handle whatever was weighing on him. If he wanted me to know, he would tell me. He just didn’t want me to worry so I could recover more quickly. I relaxed back into the bed, content to know that Baron had everything taken care of.
Everyone had been astoundedbeyond words when Baron carried me back into the heart of Sherwood Forest, perhaps not well, but at least alive.
For all the rest of the time that Baron remained in camp, he didn’t leave my side. He refused to let me do anything other than lie in bed. He monitored every drink of water, every bowl of gruel, every change of bandages, and every attempt I made to move even slightly without permission.
He was insufferable in the best of ways and I couldn’t help but love it. Baron’s preoccupation remained and though he was always kind and there for me, it still felt like there was some sort of chasm between us and had been ever since I’d stupidly kissed Peter. The distance bothered me more than his fussing over me ever could have. I didn’t want to be distant with Baron. I wanted us to be close again.
He had been the only one who had refused to accept the possibility of my death. He was the one who had kept fighting when everyone else gave up hope. Now, because of him, I was healing in a way that mystified Sybil and frustrated Peter, who had clearly wanted some credit for my recovery.
Even when I began to feel considerably better, Baron staunchly refused to allow me out of bed or permit me to do any work. He gave strict orders to everyone in our tiny village that I was not to be helped, humored, or allowed to sneak into any task whatsoever, and everyone obeyed him without question.
“I owe you my life, you know,” I told him a few days later.
He was due to return to Prince John’s castle, and the thought had made me restless all morning.
“You don’t owe me anything,” Baron said at once. “You’ve saved me before. We’re even.”
“Everyone else gave up. But you didn’t.”
Baron looked down at me, and some of the hardness in his face melted away. “I’ll never give up on you.”
I reached for his hand. Just as always, the moment his fingers touched mine, my heart began to flutter wildly. I clung to his fingers and pulled him closer.
“Stay with me.”
“What do you think I’ve been doing?” Baron asked softly.
He smoothed a strand of hair away from my face, and I didn’t want him to stop touching me. I wanted to block out the rest of the world. He and I had completed our part of the mission.There was no need for either of us to return to the castle. King Richard was coming. Father would be home soon. Prince John could fall in a ditch for all I cared. As valuable as Baron could be undercover, I didn’t want to be parted from him again. It had been a mistake to push him away.
I felt the same irresistible pull toward him that I had never been able to explain or wish away. He was the one I wanted. I was sure of it now. Perhaps I should have been sure before, but nearly dying had a way of making certain things very clear.
“Kiss me,” I whispered. Baron’s fingers tightened over mine and he started to lean forward, but then he stopped. Conflict raged in his eyes, and I couldn’t understand it. I knew he wanted to be with me. I could see it in the way he looked at me, in the way he had stayed by my side, and in the way his hand still held mine. I tried to pull him closer but he resisted.
“Baron,” I said, my voice unsteady, “I want us to be together.”
His eyes closed.
I hurried on before I lost my nerve. “I told you before—you were right. I am impulsive. I was impulsive when I called things off, and I was impulsive when I kissed Peter. I was wrong to do both of those things. I’m sorry. I still love you, and I want to be with you.”
I had expected Baron to be overjoyed. I had expected him to lean down, kiss me, forgive me, and accept the offer as eagerly as he had once accepted my reckless suggestion that we run away together. I certainly had not expected him to look pained.
“We can’t,” he said quietly.
I caught my breath. “What do you mean?”
“Laurel…”
