Chapter 20

D AMIAN WENT NEAR MAD , searching the forest trails for Kat. When he rode deeply into the woods and still had yet to find her, he began to curse himself as a fool for having come here as himself.

Only James Courtney and Robin's closest fellows knew that Lord Montjoy was the Silver Sword. If he risked going much farther, he would have to pray that he was discovered by Robin, and none other, else he'd find himself engaged in combat with a man he had no desire to injure or kill.

"Damn her!" he swore aloud. Then he was angry with himself for having been so foolish as to have come after her this way. If his emotions hadn't become involved, he would have gone about this far more sensibly.

But his emotions had become involved. Damn him.

He slowed Lucien, patting the horse's neck as he looked quickly about, a sixth sense warning him that he was not alone in the forest, that a number of eyes were upon him.

"I'm looking for Robin Hood!" he called out. Robin's men would, of course, be scattered rather densely here. He was near Robin's camp. Damian dismounted from Lucien and walked closer to the trees. Would someone he knew be about? Some man who was a confidant of Robin, and did know his secret identity as the Silver Sword?

He needed to be careful, he warned himself. He could identify himself, and not be believed. But it would be very dangerous to give out the secret of the Silver Sword, and he did not want to have to do so.

But he didn't want to hurt any man.

There would be no need to do so, he told himself. If Robin's men came for him, he would surrender quickly, and be held for Robin's return, if his cousin was not about.

He took another step toward a copse beneath the dense branches of a number of oaks. Men were within those trees, he knew. Their rustling was heavy; the canopy of green and shadow was dark. The earth was damp and springy beneath his feet.

"I'm looking for Robin—" he began again, calling out. But before he could finish the sentence, he heard a curious whirring sound, looked up, and ducked instinctively.

Too late. A massive rope netting was being thrown over his head. Cursing, he felt the weight of it bear him down to the ground. Winded, he struggled to his feet, fighting the rope. The more he moved, the more it seemed to twine about him. He could still reach the knife at his calf, but he didn't want to engage in any deadly battle with these men. "I have told you that I am looking for Robin Hood!" he shouted furiously.

Leaves and branches began to rustle. Bodies suddenly began to fall lightly to the ground from the limbs of the trees. Feet thunked into the soft black earth beneath the trees. He recognized a number of the men, and did so with irritation.

None of these were Robin's closest associates. None were men with whom he had shared his most important secrets from the very beginning. They were good men, all, but not men Robin knew well …

Nay, not men Robin knew well!

"If this is the way you greet all noblemen of good cause who would visit your leader, my fine gents, you do a rather rude job of it!" he roared.

Then one of their number stepped forward.

One among them that Robin knew very well!

Kat—or rather, so it seemed, the Lady Greensleeves.

She wasn't wearing the costume he had seen her in before when she was so involved in her forest activity. Borrowed plumage? he wondered. For a crude wool knit mask in an earth-brown was pulled over her face, leaving open just a slit for her mouth and two holes for eyes. She wore a rough brown tunic and a heavy cape in a like color. She was very well concealed.

And yet …

He knew it was Kat. From the moment she leaped with such agility from the branches to stand before him, he knew it to be his wife. Instinct. He knew that she had come here.

And she might well feel that he had much for which to pay. And he might well pay for it before anyone thought to warn Robin that they had a prisoner in the forest.

"So, my Lord Montjoy!" she murmured huskily, facing him in his tangle of ropes. "You have come to the forest. Seeking Robin. Well, we shall see that you are able to find him … just as soon as he has time. But for now …"

She stepped back. "Do you come willingly with us, Lord Montjoy?"

Damian grated down hard on his teeth. He was torn between a searing gratitude that she was here and alive and well—and the utmost desire to drag her over his knee.

At the moment, the latter seemed impossible. For once, she had him.

Just what was the little witch up to? he wondered. She didn't know he was the Silver Sword …

And she didn't know that he was well aware that he was facing his own wife. She couldn't know that. He had never given it away in any word or deed.

"Aye, lady, of course I come willingly. I just told you, I seek to speak with Robin Hood."

"Then hand over your sword and the knife at your ankle."

"I can scarce move, my lady."

"I know you can reach that dagger," she replied in a deadly tone. "Toss it to me."

He did so. She barely motioned his way, and the half dozen men who had netted him moved carefully forward, both to free him from their trap and to accept his sword.

"Your hands, Montjoy. Put them behind your back."

He clenched down hard on his jaw, fighting the swift rise of his temper. This was not the time or the place to have it out with her.

He stared her way as one of the fellows quickly slipped behind him, binding his wrists together, and doing it very well. "His ankles, too, I think!" she suggested softly, and a rope was tied about his ankles, giving him room to walk, but not to run.

"My lady, I've come here seeking Robin. Why would I run?"

"You, my lord, are a dangerous man, best kept in check," she replied sweetly. "Let's bring my Lord Montjoy to a place where we might hold him for Robin."

He watched, his temper soaring once again, while one man came forward, leading the group of the bandits' horses.

She was being careful now, not riding her own horse, but a small bay. "Have Lord Montjoy's horse brought along," she ordered.

Then, mounted, she brought the bay near him and cast a roped loop around his neck. His eyes narrowed at her, and he thought that perhaps she shivered. For just a moment, but …

Then the noose tightened around his neck. "Come on, Lord Montjoy. We've a bit of a distance to go."

She couldn't intend to make him stumble along in his hobbled state! he thought incredulously.

She did. She kneed her mount, and they went forward through a forest trail. She started off slowly enough. He trotted behind her, as well as the rope between his ankles would allow, over the soft dark earth; over tufts of grass, over beds of pine.

She sped up.

He followed, determined that he would master her game. A fine sheen of perspiration broke out on his forehead.

"My lady!" one of the bandits called out, riding beside her. In his Saxon tongue he whispered softly to her, "Should we be so cruel here? Robin wishes an alliance with this man—"

"Trust me," she said softly. "Robin will be able to talk him into doing anything he wants."

"But—"

He stumbled then, over a tree stump. He went down hard, pulling the noose taut about his throat.

"Have mercy, my lady—" a bandit murmured.

But she wasn't in a merciful mood. "Up, Lord Montjoy! Come now. We haven't all day!"

He rose, the muscles of his thighs and calves bulging as he managed to do so without the use of his hands. He bowed to her when he stood. "At your command, my lady."

She turned quickly. She did not urge her mount on to such a speed as she had before.

Damian assumed she would be bringing him to the base camp, but that was not what she had in mind. He was startled to discover that they were coming to his own hunting lodge.

That same place where the Silver Sword had brought her that night of her rescue.

She dismounted from her horse and drew her sword, placing it to his throat as soon as she had slipped the noose from around his neck. "You are familiar with this place, my lord?"

"Indeed. It is on my own property."

"Then you shall feel quite at home while we wait," she told him. "Go forward," she warned him, her blade at his vein.

He complied. The door to the cottage was opened for him, and he walked in and stood before the fireplace. He heard her give a command to someone, saying that they might go for Robin and that she needed no further assistance, and then she followed him in.

They were alone.

Now she pointed her sword at his gut, forcing him to back across the room to the bed of straw and furs. "Sit!"

He did so.

When he was seated, she set her sword upon the table and sought out the skeins of wine and the leather mugs, and poured herself a long draught.

"Lord Montjoy knows his wines very well," she said.

He inclined his head. "Thank you."

"Are you thirsty?"

"Indeed. I am near strangled, and therefore very thirsty."

She walked to him with one of the mugs and came down on her knees. She brought the mug to his lips, but when he would have drunk, she jerked suddenly.

The wine spilled over his chin and down his tunic.

"Your pardon, Lord Montjoy!" she said with feigned horror. "But then, you do have much to ask pardon for yourself, have you not?" She backed away. "Never mind. There's quite a supply of wine here."

With an effort he rose, the anger suffusing him giving an added boost to the efforts of his muscles. He backed himself toward the fireplace and the crude mantel, finding a ragged edge there among the wood.

Once she had escaped his bounds. Now he determined he would do the same. He had to.

Oh, she would receive her just rewards!

She sipped wine herself, watching him, then set down the leather mug and skein and swept up her sword again. She stared at him. "You do have much to beg pardon for, do you not?"

"Would you have me beg pardon for being Norman?" he queried her.

She picked up her blade again. "For being Norman? That, my lord, is an accident of birth. But let's see here, all the bandits in the forest take offense against a man for the sins he commits against his fellows. Perhaps, my lord, I am here to take offense against those sins you have committed against your wife!"

"Ah, my wife!" he echoed softly.

"Well?"

"Well? You tell me," he insisted. Once again, a fine sheen of perspiration was breaking out on his face as he worked his wrists against the stone, trying to do so without being seen. "I have committed no sins!" he insisted.

"No?" Her sword was suddenly up in her hands again, and she neared him with the weapon. The wicked blade suddenly swung, severing his brooch from his tunic. It clattered to the far corners of the room. His tunic fell to the floor.

He arched a brow to her and smiled grimly. "What have I done to the girl but wed her!"

"You have sought to command—"

"A wife is a husband's to command!"

"Nay! She is not property to be used and set upon a shelf and told to stay!"

"Perhaps she is kept safe upon that shelf."

She ignored him. "Then—then!—sent from her home, to live with a husband's whore!"

"Her husband has no whores!"

The claim seemed to enrage her.

Her sword moved again with a frightening dexterity, slicing through the fabric of his tunic and undershirt, and just missing his flesh. Just barely missing his flesh.

He forced himself not to move. To stand dead still while she taunted him. His body seemed to heat like a blaze, his muscles to tense like molten steel.

Her blade moved lower, hovering against intimate zones of his body. "How curious that you claim so! Perhaps I should give your flesh a nick or two, and give you time to recant those words while you heal! But, alas, I should have to take great care. I wouldn't want to mistakenly remove anything completely!"

Damn her! He felt the blade. Razor-sharp, just piercing through the fabric.

He forced himself to remain completely still.

"Lady," he promised softly. "You had best cease this game. You will pay."

"You are in no position to threaten me now, my Lord Montjoy," she said. He sensed her smile. Damn her. She was truly enjoying herself.

"I tell you again, I have done nothing evil to my wife. I have—"

"You have taunted her time and time again!"

"How so?"

"How so?" she repeated, her voice rising sharply with anger. "Oh, how so—how not! Let's see, my lord, there was the time when you met her on the parapets and near drowned her by dragging her into the moat!"

"I? That was the Silver Sword—"

"Oh, aye! And it was the Silver Sword who kidnapped her here in the forest to await Montjoy! The lying, licentious, evil demon known as the Silver Sword! He teased her, imprisoned her, taunted her—dear God! The Silver Sword? You Lord Montjoy! Master of lies and deceit!"

He stiffened. She smiled with vengeful satisfaction.

"Perhaps I am not the Silver Sword."

"Oh, but you are. Don't deny it."

"I tell you—" he began angrily.

"Tell me carefully, whatever it is," she warned, pressing the blade hard against his thigh and dangerously close to sensitive flesh, "Tell me very carefully, lest the great Lord Montjoy, the wondrous Silver Sword, the man who is one and all, shall soon be no one but a choir boy!"

"What of my wife?" he asked, his voice a very low roar. "She, who knew she was betrothed, bartered her favors to a stranger to escape!"

"But you were that stranger, playing her along."

"Oh, and shall I play her along now!" he roared.

"What?" she said quickly.

"Lady, when I am free, I promise, you will pay the price!"

"What price more than the things that you have done to her?"

"To my wife, eh?"

"Aye, indeed!"

"The things that I have done to her! Damn you! I have loved her!" he returned sharply.

"You've what!" She backed away, just momentarily. But as she did so, there came a pounding on the door. Startled, she spun around.

Damian took that opportunity to run the ropes of his bounds furiously over the stone.

At last, they gave.

Watching her back as she hurried to the door, he reached down and freed his feet in silence, casting the rope aside, following behind her as silently as he could manage.

She had thrown open the door. Over her shoulder, Damian could see that the Lady Marian stood there, speaking quickly and in a harsh whisper.

"Katherine! You mustn't keep going with this thing. I have just found Robin, and he is hurrying back to base camp, thinking that Lord Montjoy has been brought there."

"Fine, I'll bring him—"

"Katherine, wait! He knows."

Damian smiled like a wolf, sensing her frown. "He knows what, Marian?"

"He knows that the Lady Katherine is the Lady Greensleeves, He has known all along."

"He can't—"

"But he does!" Damian exclaimed sharply at her back. Marian gasped, seeing him then. Kat spun around, her eyes very wide.

Instinct was with her. She immediately tried to step out of the cottage, but he was too swift for her. His fingers curled hard around her arm. "If you'll pardon us, Marian? I think we need to continue this discussion alone."

"Nay, let go of me!" Kat protested wildly. "Robin will be waiting. Marian, isn't that true? There are important things to be clarified right now—"

"Indeed, there are!" He smiled at Marian. "Go on, now, my Lady Marian. Tell Robin we shall be along shortly."

Then he slammed the door.

In a frenzy, Kat tried to pull free from him. He held her hard, wrenching the knit hood from her face. Her hair tumbled around her, a beautiful frame for the shimmer of her eyes.

"The game has changed, eh, my love? You no longer wish to play?"

"Let go of me, Damian Montjoy—"

"Well, I do. Because it is my turn. So far you have roped me and snared me and dragged me along behind your horse. You have dunked wine all down my face and clothing, and threatened to lop off portions of my body that I deem incredibly important."

"Let me go!"

"Oh, I don't think so! Let's see, where is that sword? Perhaps I should take some slicing practice upon your clothing!"

She did manage to wrench free, because he let her do so. It was his turn. He found the sword and hefted it testingly in his hands.

"Oh, where shall we start? Where shall we start?" he murmured.

She lunged for the door. He stopped her, pushing her back. He set the point of the blade against the tie on her rough wool cloak. He barely moved his wrist, severing the tie, and the garment fell to the floor. There were ties all along the front of the tunic she wore.

One by one, he slit them. "Shall I go on, my lady? I can strip you bare in a number of seconds. Then I could dump wine on you. Um. It does have its appeal. The entire afternoon could truly be very entertaining."

She set her hands upon her hips and tossed back the golden abundance of her hair.

"You wish to be entertained? Oh, I think not, my Lord Montjoy! Where shall we begin?" she hissed in turn. "Oh, there are so many places one could start! There is Affa—that charming little olive-skinned creature who has taken up residence at your castle. In your bedroom. Where you sent me!"

"I didn't know she was there—"

"Oh, you lie! She knows you well, my Lord Montjoy. Very well. Then! There is this little matter of your being the Silver Sword! You bastard! You damned bastard! Snake! Letting me go on and on, seducing me—"

"I never seduced you! You seduced me!"

"You lie!"

"Lie! You witch!" he accused. "You were duly and honorably betrothed, and you were willing to sleep with anyone to escape your husband!"

"Not anyone! The Silver Sword. The man who saved my father's life all those years ago! But you! You rodent—" She lifted a hand, pushing the blade of the sword away from her. Heedlessly she came at him, her fists thundering against his chest. "And you knew that it was I! Lady Greensleeves, coming and going, and still—"

"I didn't know a damned thing about the tunnel until Robin told me, and you had me worried sick time and time again!" He let the sword fall. She was flushed and furious and ready to pound against him again. "Stop it!" he commanded her. "I swear, lady, you are going to be very sorry—"

"Sorry! Oh, my Lord Montjoy! You don't begin to know the meaning of the word!" Her eyes were brilliant. Deep pools of exotic color. He had never seen her more angry, or more passionate.

Or more beautiful.

"I will slice and dice you!" she promised. "I will rip you to ribbons—"

"Whoa!"

Her fury was forcing them both backward. He caught hold of her wrists just as her impetus sent them both sprawling on the bed of straw and fur. She was wild, a tigress, a whirlwind of fury. But at length he caught her wrists, pressed her back, and straddled over her.

"You! You are the most wayward, disobedient, and stubborn of all wives! Jesu, you should be whipped and locked in a tower. You—"

"You have already tried both!" she accused him.

"You haven't begun to see the half of it yet, my lady!"

"How could you! How could you!" she demanded. "Letting me stalk my chamber in torment, in fear—"

"You've never had the sense to be afraid of anything!"

"I was in agony—"

"And you deserved it! You betrayed me! You bedded the Silver Sword, a complete stranger!"

"I didn't even know you! And you were busy playing with that little black-haired harlot—"

"What do you mean I was busy! As you have reminded me, I was the Silver Sword!"

"Yes! Which you knew! And I didn't! Of course, the great Lord Montjoy could be magnanimous to his poor quaking bride. You knew! You were fully aware that there had been no man before you, and still …" Her eyes narrowed furiously. "Oh! You with your drops of blood! You wouldn't dream of letting any man question the paternity if I were to quickly bear a child! Because you had the benefit of knowing all along that any child would have to be yours, while you left me to wonder—"

"Why would you wonder?" he demanded.

"By nature, one would wonder!" she cried in return. "Oh, you! Get off me! Whoever you are! Silver Sword, Montjoy—whoever! You are both entirely wretched to me!"

He shook his head. "What are you wondering about?" he demanded.

Her eyes narrowed, and she stared at him. He had ten times her power, and his thighs were hard around hers while her wrists were imprisoned in his hands. She couldn't fight him any longer.

But she had no intention of surrendering.

"Whatever we have to discuss, my lord, we can discuss later! Robin needs both of us now!"

He shook his head slowly. "Nay, Kat. Robin needs me now. You are finished in the forest. Finished in truth, I tell you."

"No!" she cried out, trying to rise against him. The ties he had rent from her tunic left some of her beautiful flesh bare. Her hair streamed all around her, and he was near painfully reminded of their first time here. Then she had been clad in the flimsy gown. Though it was muddied and torn, she had still worn it beautifully. As now. Pleading with him, trying to rise against him, her eyes azure, her fair skin ivory, her hair a cloud of sunlight.

All women could be tamed, he had told himself once.

It did not seem that Kat could be so.

Yet maybe she could be loved.

"Damian!" she protested, and her voice was earnest, her lower lip trembled slightly, and her eyes brimmed with liquid color as she entreated him. "Marian told me you are the Silver Sword. She wouldn't lie, she'd have no reason to do so. And so I know—you were there! You were there that day, so long ago, when we came into the woods. Damian, you saw what they did to that poor fellow's hand, and they meant to hang his father, Damian, and—"

"Kat! Aye, they meant to do many things. And men try to right the wrongs. But this battle is no place for you anymore!"

"If you think that I'm not useful—"

"I know that you've been useful, Kat," Damian admitted softly. It was a difficult thing for him to say. Aye, she had been useful. She had been necessary. With her will, her determination, and her courage, she had surely saved many a life, and helped stem some of the flow of cruelty. "Katherine, it's coming down to something very close to war now. I'm going to meet with Robin. You're going to go home."

The softness left her tone. Anger returned to it, and he was sorry. We're on the same side! he wanted to cry out to her. But it was clear she already thought him her enemy again, and no words were going to change that now. "You are sadly mistaken, my lord, if you think that I will return to your home—and live with that black-haired witch! You can have me bound, gagged, and tied to every tree on the property, and I swear that I shall escape you! You can beat me—"

"When did I ever beat you, Kat?" he demanded furiously, "As either man?"

Her chin inched up. "In the forest, my Lord Montjoy. There was no oak stick about, so you found your hand to be a readily available switch!"

He started to laugh. He couldn't help it. It was a mistake. She was suddenly twisting with a frenzy beneath him.

"Montjoy—"

"I'm sorry! Truly, I'm sorry. In fact, I'm quite sorry, but you did have it coming. And it didn't seem to do a thing for you. You attacked me again anyway."

Her eyes sizzled with azure fury. "I shall attack you again when you least expect it, my lord, if you dare to command me—"

"Let's get this straight!" he said, sitting back on his haunches to ease his weight from her. "I am the lord and master here, my lady. And I will command you," he said very, very softly. But as he spoke, he leaned closer to her. Her eyes remained on his, widening with wonder as he spoke. "But I'd never command you to live where another woman abided, for no woman could hold a candle to your grace and beauty. So the woman knows me, Kat, aye, that she does. It was a long war in the Holy Lands. Long, and I had grown hard from the loss of a gentle lady."

"One far more gentle than I!" Kat murmured, and he smiled.

"Different, my lady. Far different. But in truth, from the moment I heard I was to wed, I was with no other woman. Perhaps not because I knew in my heart that I should become so fascinated with the one who would be mine, but rather because there were other matters at hand. Still, it is true. I had no notion that Affa would think that she was to be mine. Ari, I knew, would follow me. He longed to come to England. He is a seer of the future, and he announced that he would accompany me." He paused. Aye, and he had said that Kat would betray him. But she would not do so, could not do so, he swore silently to himself. Ari could be wrong.

That didn't matter now. "Affa will be sent back. Or sent somewhere, I swear it. Yet, if you obey me, there is no reason to send you to my home. I ordered you to go because I could not keep my eye on your tunnel constantly!"

Her lashes lowered. She nearly smiled.

"What will you do?" she asked him.

"Meet with Robin. Gather my forces, and yours. There will be a battle here. John will order de la Ville to come against Robin and the bandits—and Lord Montjoy. And we will fight in return. Kat, please, go home now. See that the guard is kept well. That no man can breach our defenses again and seize the castle, for that is one thing that de la Ville covets. There is only one thing he wants more.

"And that is—?" she asked him.

"You," Damian told her softly. "He would sacrifice anything for you. You must remember that, Kat, and see to it that you are never in danger from him."

She had ceased to fight. Maybe she was even listening to him, and paying him some heed.

He rose and pulled her to her feet before him, pulling her tunic closed where he had slit the ties. "Will you go home?" he asked her. "Will you obey me? If in nothing else, Katherine, I beg of you, obey me in this!"

She hesitated, lowered her head, and nodded slowly.

He caught her shoulders and brought her hard against his chest. His lips touched her hair. The golden-blond strands teased his chin and his nose. The scent seemed to fill him.

"Roses …" he murmured. "You always carry the scent of roses, my love. And I am ever reminded of that rose on our wedding night. The sweet scent of roses, and the beauty of their petals as they lay against your flesh, all as soft as silk!"

There was a sudden pounding on the door. Kat pulled away from him in alarm.

But there was no need to fear. It was only Little John who had come. "My lady … er, Kat! Lord Montjoy! You must hurry. The armies are forming. Robin is waiting. They say that de la Ville's men have gathered east of here, and your own men-at-arms are riding in from the copse before the castle. You must come, now!"

"Aye!" Damian called. His eyes remained on Kat's. For once, they wore no masks.

He pulled her into his arms and kissed her.

By necessity, the kiss was quick. Yet it carried with it a hungry passion. A simmering heat. Force and coercion … and a promise.

He drew away. To his amazement, there seemed to be the slightest shimmer of tears in her eyes. "Take care, my lord."

"I am a very good knight," he told her gravely.

She smiled and lowered her head. "Aye, so I've heard. But a mortal one."

"It sounds as if, perhaps, I am growing less horrid as a husband?"

"You saved my father's life once," she told him.

He couldn't quite let her go. He pulled her close again. "Say it, Kat. Just because I am the Silver Sword, and you are the Lady Greensleeves. Say it because we are legends, and because it would be a pretty tale. Say it … say, ‘I love you, Damian, Lord Montjoy, my husband. Stay safe from danger, because I love you.'"

His lips touched hers once again. Parted from them. "Because it is the stuff of legends," she explained softly, and then her words were a whisper he barely heard. "I love you, Damian, Lord Montjoy, my husband. Stay safe from danger, because … I love you."

"Kat …" His lips just touched hers, then rose regretfully from them. "Please, now! Ride home. Give me the strength of knowing that you are safe."

He released her, and she turned quickly from him, almost running to the door.

But when she had reached it, she paused. She didn't quite turn fully to him, and her words remained soft, but they were crystal-clear and promising.

"You must stay safe in battle, my lord. I'm not at all sure which, but I do believe that either the Silver Sword or Lord Montjoy will soon be a father. And in the troubled times ahead, a boy—or a maid, at that!—will surely need a father."

"Kat!" he murmured, and started for her.

But she had already escaped, with the door closing quickly behind her.

And he thought that maybe—just maybe!—she had left the softest sound of a sob to linger there upon the air.