Page 16 of Queen of Sherwood

Marian smiled coyly at the soldier. “Well, they don’t need to make it home with all of their belongings. Just the clothes on their backs, I would think should suffice. They caused a ruckus inside, and those boys need to learn some manners.”

“Madam,” the soldier answered with a bow, and then stormed off past me and the two ladies holding my arms hostage. Marcus tightened his grip on the handle of his cudgel as he walked by, a sadistic grin stretching across his lips.

Maid Marian’s eyes fell on the two ladies holding my arms, and then me. Her smile grew. “Oh, if it isn’t Sir Guy of Gisborne. We have true royalty in the house, ladies.” She gestured me forward with a flapping hand. “Unhand that gentleman, if you would, Beatrice, Marcy. That one has a specific type.”

The two girls looked at me once, then shrugged and unhanded me. They walked past Marian, into the mansion, swinging their hips the whole time. I could make out the stink of booze and sex wafting in their wake.

“My, my, Madam Marian,” I jabbed. “What have we here?”

“Just a girl and her lofty pursuits, good sir.” She flipped her curly red hair off her shoulder in a teasing way, and rolled her heavily darkened eyes.

“Reconditioning the Wilford estate into a brothel, woman? That’s quite a pursuit, indeed.”

“The Sheriff didn’t leave me with much, Guy, but he did leave me this pretty estate. Figured I’d do what I do best with it. And it’s not just a brothel. If you didn’t notice, those two ragamuffins behind you are nobility.”

“The Fishers? Fringes of the gentry, at best. And you plan on robbing them blind. Do you think that sets a fine precedent for your new establishment?”

Marian bobbed her shoulders, giving me a faux innocent look with big doe eyes. “There are robbers aplenty in Nottingham, sir. Who rightly knows where they come from?”

“Well, clearly some of them come from here. But I digress. I can’t fault your entrepreneurial spirit. In fact, the plentiful robbers you speak of are why I have come calling.”

“Ah. It is such a dangerous world out there. That’s why people come to Madam Marian’s Teahouse. To escape the dangers of life for a time.”

“Right. While being fleeced of their belongings and any information they might have through the thin walls of this place. Ingenious, Marian, I must say.”

She gave me a cocky, crooked smile. “Won’t you come inside, handsome hunter? I’m sure we could find you a suitable replacement for—”

“I’m not staying long,” I cut in. I didn’t want her finishing that sentence and angering me, because I was fairly amused right now at what I was seeing, and wanted to keep it that way.

Maid Marian had stolen Robin of Loxley’s estate out from under her, and had now transformed it into an upscale brothel that the gentry of Nottingham frequented. Truly marvelous . . . and wicked.

I loved it.

Marian crossed her arms under her ample chest, as she was wont to do when she was trying to steal your attention from her cunning face. “What is it about the robbers, then? Why are you here, Sir Guy?”

I looked up to the top, peaked roof of the manor, then through the windows, where I heard low conversation, soft laughter, and even a moan or two.

The place was clearly packed. Marian was making a killing catering to the aristocrats of Nottingham and all their deviant wants and needs.

Yes . . . this place could certainly become useful for me to frequent, but not for the reasons most come here.

My trade was information, and this place seemed bursting with it.

I clicked my tongue, matching Marian’s stance by folding my arms over my chest. “You have done well for yourself, Marian. And in order to keep doing well, you must do something for me.”

She blinked. Her eyes widened a fraction, and the haughty attitude she was so used to giving faltered for a split second. “Is that what I must do?” she asked in a lower, more serious voice. One tinged with anger, and told me she didn’t like being bossed around.

Anything that Sheriff George gave freely, I could also freely take away. And Maid Marian, or whatever the fuck she called herself these days, knew that well.

“Aye, it is.”

“And what is it, exactly?”

I gave her a small grin. “Maybe we should go inside after all.”

She paused, staying in the doorway.

Then, against every ounce of her willpower, she stepped aside and gestured me in with a sweeping arm.

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