Page 68 of An Earl for the Archeress

John, squinting as the sun reached its midday zenith, turned to her. “I’ve seen you dazzle the crowds at the tourney, Lady Mariel, but let’s see what you can do without warming up.”

Robert grinned and folded his arms. “Yes, Elmer. Let’s see you hit the bull’s eye with cold muscles.”

Mariel whipped loose an arrow from her hip right where she stood, nocked it, drew back her shoulder blade, and released her arrow. It lodged in the center of the bull’s eye. Turning to Robert, she gave him a superior smile, but Robert stepped into position, nocked his own arrow, and let it shoot down the champ. It split her arrow down the middle, also hitting the center.

“’Twould seem we’re still evenly matched, Mari.” Robert grinned over his shoulder.

“Are we?” She rolled her eyes and pulled loose three arrows from her hip, clenching them between each finger, and nocked them in quick succession upon each release. They also split each other down the middle until the metal tips could no longer find lodging and the long stem of arrows fell.

“All right, now you’re just showing off.” John groaned.

“Quarterstaffs,” she said, ignoring him. “I suggest we move on. Archery seems to be something of a mastered craft.”

“Well done, my beauty. You are indeed a master of the craft. Your father knows not the prize he lost.” Robert chuckled.

He dusted a light peck on her cheek, when Alan called out.

“My lord?”

Robert turned over his shoulder to see Alan pointing across the champ de tir at David, who ran toward them with haste, having returned from spying on Teàrlach MacGregor, sweat saturating his face. Robert jogged to meet him, his bow still in hand. The others gathered round.

“What news, man?” he demanded.

Mariel lingered on the periphery. Seeing David brought her imminent peril crashing down on her once again.

David passed Robert a missive. Robert unfolded it and scanned the script.

“Crawford’s man, Teàrlach, spoke the truth to us. He indeed said that whilst he saw Mariel leaving here on an argument with me, after escaping from her window, that he then saw her traveling the forest with a band of hooded thieves.”

“That’s good news, then, yes?” Will piped up. “’Twill corroborate the fact she shot her father with the hooded thieves and not associate it with us.”

“Yea and nay,” Robert continued, reading the message while David fidgeted impatiently and motioned for Robert to read the bottom part. Robert obeyed. “Crawford might believe Teàrlach, but he’s still coming to Huntington to have words with me about how I captured Mariel, with Nottingham accompanying him in support. David here”—he gestured—“left to return here as soon as he learned this, though Crawford and Nottingham were already packing supplies and gearing up to leave. They didn’t wait for daybreak and are…” He kept reading. “…likely only a few hours behind you?”

His eyes shot to David, who nodded.

“Did you take the forest paths to save time?” David was nodding, then began a series of animated charades. “But Crawford is riding the main roads in full haste?”

David nodded at his comprehension. Robert looked at Mariel. His eyes were blank, but she knew his mind was churning.

“Practice is cancelled, men. Collect your things and congregate in the great hall. We’ll meet him as he comes, and tonight I take Mariel to a priest to marry her.”

“What?” both John and Will said in unison.

“You? Marrying?” Will asked.

Robert was still gazing at Mariel when he answered his cousin. “Yes. ’Tis the only way I can protect her.”

“Unless The Beast sees fit to slaughter you for taking such liberty with his property without his blessing,” Will said.

“Nottingham is coming with him, and Nottingham is not entirely daft, despite our leanings to the contrary,” Robert said. “If I die, along with so many other injustices on his watch, King Richard will make William de Wendenal answer for it.”

But Mariel felt her chest pinch as the all too familiar feeling of her lungs squeezing seized her breath. She shook her head.

“I have to leave,” she croaked, striding toward the exit, breaking into a jog, then a run.

“Dammit,” Robert cursed behind her and she heard the missive crumpling, then his footfalls as he chased after her.

He caught up to her under a stone portico through the wall.