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"Of what?"

"Losing you."

Her expression softened.

"I'd prefer not to repeat that admission, so I hope you were listening."

Despite everything, she smiled.

"I'm listening."

"I'm thirty-four years old, Robin. I never expected to have a mate. I'd arranged my entire life around the assumption that I wouldn't need one."

"And then?"

"And then some infuriating woman started shooting arrows into my wagons and leaving notes for me."

She laughed quietly.

"I was very good at those notes."

"You were unbearable."

"You kept reading them."

"I had little choice. You made certain they reached me."

I brushed a loose strand of hair away from her face.

"I never expected to fall in love with you."

Her smile faded.

"But I did. And now the thought of Fitzwalter taking you from me frightens me more than anything else I've faced."

She leaned against me again. I held her until her breathing steadied. Through our bond, I felt some of the tension begin to ease. Eventually, she stepped back.

"Three days."

"Three days."

"Then we're not wasting them waiting around."

I smiled.

"Good. Because I have an idea."

The eleven prisoners would have to be transported to Nottingham for their treason proceedings.

That meant Fitzwalter's men would need to use one of the roads leading into the city.

And I knew those roads better than most.

Back at camp, I spread a map across the planning table.

"They'll come from Edwinstowe along the Mansfield road, then turn near Papplewick," I explained. "It's the safest route for loaded carts this time of year."

Robin leaned over the map.