Stirred

By Leah

This is my first RH fic, please be nice!

Pretty AU. Set before and after Lady Marian meets Sir Guy for the first time. Rated M just to be safe.

Disclaimer

God I wish I owned Guy and Marian! Rats! However, I do not! Walks away grumbling.

Part one

Only a month or so after the death of his daughter’s mother, Lady Marian Elizabeth’s father, Sir Edward of Knighton, sent the shy eight-year-old girl away from Knighton Hall to live at Locksley Manor.

It was there where she quickly blossomed and flourished under the guiding hand of Lady Helen and the thoughtfulness her husband, Sir George of Locksley.

After a few well-intentioned bullying messages from Lord and Lady Locksley, Edward would occasionally call on Marian, yet it would be a long while before he could handle the startling resemblance she bore to his beloved dead wife.

During a visit, the widower Edward marvelled at how much his little girl had grown in wisdom and beauty in such a short period of time, and she was almost nine years of age. He also noted how well she got along with Locksley’s sons, Andrew, Peter and especially the youngest, Robin, although Marian often grumbled that she was far more mature then all three of the boys and was often frustrated by their silliness.

Two years later, Marian returned home to Knighton Hall to live, for good, with her father, though Locksley would remain a second home to her for as long as she desired.

When Marian turned twelve years of age, Sir George took Edward aside, wanting to talk to him about Marian and Robin. The two lords conversed along with Lady Helen in the hall of Locksley Manor for several hours about their children before it was decided that Marian and Robin were to be engaged, hopefully married when Marian turned seventeen and Robin sixteen.

“Andrew and Peter plan to go to war next year,” Lady Helen said, pouring wine into three pewter goblets. “To fight for Richard.” She gnawed upon her lower lip, adding gravely. “I know they are good enough in a mock fight or a scuffle. Nevertheless, this is war. I fear very strongly for them.”

“I know one of Richard’s lieutenants’, Helen,” Sir George said, patting her hand. “He will look after the boys.”

“What of Robin? Does he hunger for battle?” Sir Edward asked, taking a sip of wine.

“I must confess he does,” Lady Helen replied dryly. “Andrew has been filling his head with stories, Peter too.”

“I shall not allow Robin to go to war without Much by his side,” Sir George stated firmly. “Much’s cousins, Benjamin and Erik are going with Andrew and Peter; Robin will not be the odd one out.”

“Those two are such good friends,” Lady Helen remarked, smiling fondly. “Robin is such a kind boy for treating Much like his equal.”

“Isn’t he a manservant?” Edward asked.

“Yes, but Robin will never see anyone beneath him, he sees everyone as an equal.”

“What a fine quality to have in one so young,” Edward said.

Part two

Years later. Knighton Hall, Marian’s room. Set  before Sir Guy travels to Acre.

The present Marian of Knighton sits by her bedroom window, trying to do some pretty embroidery, a task she detests doing. Growing ever so bored with it, she takes her eyes off the needle and gazes out the window. Forgetting herself, the girl let out a gasp of pain as the needle she is using drives into her finger.

Cursing herself with very unladylike language, Marian brought the injured digit to her lips, sucking hard upon it, rising to her feet to wonder over to the washbasin.

“Lady Marian, is Sir Edward here?”

“No, Annette,” the girl replied, washing her finger. “He won’t be back til evening. What do you need him for?”

“A Sir Guy of Gisborne wishes to speak with him, my lady. He is waiting outside.”

“Tell Sir Guy to come inside,” Marian instructed. “Give him whatever refreshment he should want. I shall be down to receive him in a moment.”

The servant girl curtsied then hurried off.

Sir Guy was waiting in the hall when the lady of the house arrived. At first, he found he was at a loss for words. Lady Marian of Knighton Hall was quite possibly the most beautiful girl he had ever seen.

Her long hair was a dark, dark brown. Her skin pale and flawless. Her enchanting lavender, blue eyes gazed upon him curiously, calmly.

“Sir Guy?” She asked softly.

“Lady Marian?” He replied.

The maiden smiled faintly.

“Welcome to Knighton Hall, Sir Guy. I am sorry my father, Sir Edward, cannot be here to see you.”

“It is no matter,” he told her, eyes going over her body from face to feet this time, for a quick study.

The young lady was not thin, nor was she fat. She had a graceful slender build. The graceful appearance seemed to change when he came to her hands. Short, dirty fingernails, healing scratches, thus suggesting she enjoyed exercise and hard work. He was surprised to find she did not cover her hair with a wimple. How very strange. She seemed not much older then eighteen. Most girls wore them mid teens. It could not be that she was undesirable …. No. Her beauty could make Helen of Troy envious. Perhaps her father raised her with a lot of freedom?

“Ah … So you’re the wilful, headstrong type, eh?” he thought.

Clearing his throat, Guy forced his eyes to travel back to her face before she would suspect his mind was almost up to no good.

“As you may know, the Manor of Locksley has been devoid of an occupant, occupants, for quite some time.”

“Yes, Sir Guy,” the girl replied softly. “Father and I are well aware of this.”

“Vasey, newly appointed Sheriff of Nottingham, has given me the Manor.”

“Ah. I see. Does Robin of Locksley know of this, Sir Guy?”

Guy frowned.

“Whom?”

“Robin of Locksley, Sir Guy. He is currently away fighting in the Holy land as part of the king’s personal guard. The Manor you are residing in is his family home.”

Gisborne rubbed his chin, licking his lips before replying. “Robin does not know of this, my lady, but I shall evict and return to Nottingham when he comes back.”

“I wonder if he’ll have his fill of glory then,” Marian muttered darkly under her breath.

“My lady?”

“Oh …” she began, realising she had probably revealed something that would make her appear foolish and attention seeking. “It is nothing.”

“Tell me.”

She lowered her head, feeling her cheeks colour.

“Robin of Locksley and I were betrothed from the time I was twelve, he ten, nearing eleven, til I was seventeen, he sixteen. After the unfortunate deaths of his brothers, Andrew and Peter and his mother, Lady Helen, Robin decided to go to fight for his king and country.

So, with the help of my father and his father’s connections, Robin and his manservant, Much, left England to fight.”

“What became of his father?”

“Sir George? He died a month after Robin left. He lacked his usual strength after Lady Helen died,” Marian sighed wistfully. “It was difficult to watch such a kind, honourable man die like that.”

“You seemed to have misplaced your betrothal ring.” Guy said, noting her bare ring finger.

“Robin ended our engagement when he chose to leave for War, Sir Guy,” she replied with an indifferent shrug. “He told me it would be a mercy to me if he did so.”

“So. Sir Robin leaves for glory on the Saracen battlefield rather then stay in England and marry you?” Gisborne asked coolly.

Marian shrugged again.

“A man who truly loved you would have stayed and made you feel like a Queen.”

Marian rolled her eyes.

“I am not a romantic, Sir Guy. Marriage is just a contract, one’s duty. Nothing more, nothing less.”

Guy licked his lips again then set his half-empty goblet down on the mantle piece.

“I must return to Nottingham, Lady Marian.”

“Very well. I shall inform father of your visit, Sir Guy,” Marian replied, clasping her hands in front of her.

Guy made for the doorway but stopped when he was beside her, speaking in a voice only she could hear.

“He was a fool leaving you, Marian.”

Then he was gone.

Marian’s pink lips parted slightly in surprise. Did Guy want to court her? Silently reprimanding herself for being so silly, she hurried back upstairs.

Later, Nottingham Castle.

Sir Guy pulled his brown mare to a stop as soon as they reached the castle courtyard.

“Oi!” he barked at a passing groom. “Cool her down for ten minutes then rub her down and feed her in her box. She’s to be ready in three hours, understand?”

“Yes, milord,” the boy replied, taking hold of the mare’s bridle. “Come on, girl,” he murmured, leading the warhorse away to the stables.

“And not those oats again! She can’t stop breaking wind! Buy a separate kind if needs be!”

The youth sighed.

“Yes, milord.”

Gisborne hurried upstairs to the hall. As he went on, an attractive, young peasant woman with long brown hair hastened past him, carrying a large basket of vegetables.

He paused to have a look.

The way her small hips swayed in their unconsciously provocative manner when she walked made Gisborne harden. She was not the spirited raven-haired beauty he would prefer to be taking to his bed right at this moment … But.

He smirked.

“Wait!” he called to her.

The woman turned, managing a deep curtsy, dropping some carrots from her basket as she rose.

“Oh!” she cried. “Forgive me, my lord!” She quickly snatched up the orange vegetables.

“My apologies,” he replied. “I’ve not seen you here before. I wanted to inquire after your name.”

Confusion swept across her features for a brief moment then she smiled. “Anne, Sir Guy, or Annie,” she blushed prettily. “I cook for the prisoners.”

“Ah.”

She licked her lips.

“I must go, my lord,” she curtsied again, this time holding her basket more securely.

“Anne, wait,” he said, coming up beside her.

She stopped.

“Yes, my lord?”

He leant forward, murmuring in her ear. When he withdrew, the young woman was blushing rose red.

“I do not think-” she started uneasily but Guy gave her one of his most charming smiles.

She licked her lips again.

“Very well.”

Several hours later, Gisborne had Anne pressed against a wall with her skirts high above her shapely, white legs, thrusting hard into her warm, moist depths, groaning with wicked pleasure.

Although this kitchen wench was not the fair, sweet Marian, he still found pleasure.

Some people might have found this odd. Well, that did not matter to him. Anne would do for now. She satisfied him.

“Oh!” the woman moaned, back arching against the stonewall.

Much, much later, Knighton Hall

That night, Lady Marian did not sleep. She tossed and turned in her bed, she thought and thought about the man clad entirely in black with the fierce blue, grey eyes.

There was something so dangerously thrilling about that man, Guy of Gisborne. When he gazed upon her, she felt butterflies in her belly flutter about madly.

Curious.

How and why did this man create such feelings within her?

She had noticed him, trying to be quick and discreet, look her over as though she were a fine horse and did not feel the slightest bit insulted as she normally would have. This really surprised her. Normally if a man had done such a thing, she would have given him one of her most effective looks of warning then that would have been the end of it.

But his eyes. They intrigued her, they left her feeling something … Not fear …. But …. Stirred.

Oh dear god! She had nailed it on the head!

She was stirred by him.

Marian burst into a fit of giggles. This fit did not last long though, for she forced herself to be silent so she could study the situation properly.

If there was even the slightest chance that this could lead to marriage, she was not so sure it would be a happy union.

Although she knew very little about this Gisborne, she felt she could rightly assume he would not be the man she would like to one day marry. There was something possessive about him. He seemed like the kind of man who wanted to possess things and people.

Marian shivered, pulling the covers up to her chin.

Hopefully, she would see very little of him, and he of her.

The end