Robin Hood Fic: Caught in the Storm

[corrielle]

Title: Caught in the Storm
Author: corrielle
Word Count: 1,996
Pairing: Guy/Marian
Rating/Warnings: PG
Prompt Used: Written for the "Spring Rain" prompt at the guyxmarian love fest.  
Additional Notes/Episode Spoilers: Takes place some time after episode 2x03.

The morning’s sun had certainly not promised such a wild and sudden downpour, or Guy would never have agreed to ride out from the castle with Marian. She had approached him hesitantly when making her request, though whether that had been because of fear or coyness he could not say, and in truth, he did not care.  It was enough that she had come to him at all, and what’s more, it had seemed to be an honest request.  He knew that house arrest in the castle did not agree with her, and she had taken to the road that led from Nottingham’s gates like one of the Sheriff’s falcons let off its jesses.  He kept pace with her as they rode deeper into Sherwood, only falling behind a short distance when the track became too narrow for two to ride abreast.  She did not say much, but every once in a while, she looked over her shoulder at him and did not seem displeased to find him still there.  A small thing, Guy told himself, but men’s hopes were often built on such small things.

 The clouds rolled in quickly from the north, the dark grey of half-cooled steel and heavy with rain.  They were miles from the castle when the storm broke, and thick, heavy drops began to fall. It had been a brisk day, if sunny, and Marian had worn a cloak that she now pulled over her head.  Guy, however, had nothing.  He led them underneath the spreading branches of a great tree, which gave them some protection from the wind, but the rain still found its way through the new leaves, and soon Guy’s hair was soaked, and he could feel tiny streams of water working their way down his neck and between his shoulder blades. 

They both dismounted and put comforting hands on the sides of their horses’ necks, and the animals huffed at them in displeasure at being out in the cold and the wet. 

“I seem to have chosen the wrong day for a long ride,” Marian said.  “I’m sorry, but surely it cannot keep on like this for long…”  As if to answer her apology, thunder rumbled loudly enough to make her ears ring, and the rain fell harder.  The ground beneath the tree was now completely sodden, and Marian balanced on one of the tree’s twisted roots to keep her feet out of the mud while Guy stood a ways off.  He was sure she had requested his company because she was required to, not because there was any sort of friendship between them, and Guy had too much pride to risk presuming she’d want him any closer. 

She peered at him from beneath the hood of her thick cloak, and he unsuccessfully tried to suppress a shiver.   

Marian sighed, pursed her lips in thought for a moment, and said, “Come here please, Guy.”  She had begun to unfasten the clasp on the front of her cloak.

“What are you doing?” he asked, stepping carefully until he stood next to her.

“My cloak is thick, heavy wool, and it is large enough to keep the rain off of both our heads if we stand close enough.” She pulled the body of the cloak up over her head like a canopy and held out half of it to him in invitation.

“I had not thought you would want me so close to you,” Guy said, unable to keep the bitter edge out of his voice.

“Oh, don’t be like that,” she chided.  “You are wet, and you look… well… miserable.”

“I don’t need your pity, Marian,” he growled at her. In truth, he didn’t want her pity, and he was still stinging from the humiliation of needing her help to convince the Sheriff that his life was worth saving.

“I’m not offering you pity,” she snapped.  “I’m offering you some shelter from the rain, but if you don’t want it…” She started to fasten the clasp on the front of her cloak.  “I’m not going to stand here getting the hem of my dress wet if you’re going to be difficult.”

“Wait,” Guy said abruptly. He ducked under the shelter of her cloak and held up his half.  He had to stoop a little to keep it over both of them. “You will have to forgive me if I am confused, given… what has passed between us.  After you left me, and Knighton, I did not think you would ever…”    

“You must believe me when I say this is not romantic,” Marian told him sharply, cutting him off. 

“Is it not?” Guy asked, and because he sounded genuinely confused, she laughed.

“No, Guy,” she said.  “This is how people act toward each other.  Or should, anyway.  I have something you need, and I have enough to share.  You see?”

Guy gave her a wry half-smile. “Perhaps, but I know half a dozen songs that shouldn’t be sung in the presence of a lady that start with a man and a maid caught in a rain storm.” 

Marian opened her mouth to answer, but stopped herself as a slow blush crept up her cheeks.  Though she was a lady, she had heard those songs as well.

The wind picked up, and the rain begun to blow sideways.  Instinctively, Guy took one last step toward her so his back would shield her from the wind. Marian frowned.

“You would have kept your distance… out of consideration for me?” she asked. They stood so close now she addressed the question to his shoulder rather than his face.

“Yes,” Guy said irritably.  “Is that so hard to believe?”

“Coming from you it is,” Marian said.  Guy stiffened, and she worried she had pushed too far.  His expression went cold and hard for a moment, but Marian forced herself to continue.  “You are… difficult for me to understand.”

He softened a little. “And do you wish to?  Understand me?” There was no menace in his voice.  Instead he sounded tentative, hopeful, and desperately sad all at once.

“I do… if our lives are to cross as often as ours do, and in such a way as ours tend to…” her voice trailed off.

“And is that all?” Guy asked.

Marian opened her mouth to say, “It is,” but the words wouldn’t come. She knew it was cruel, perhaps even dangerous to lead him on when it was so obvious that he still felt deeply for her, but the simple denial stuck in her throat. When she didn’t answer him, Guy simply lowered his head for a moment before looking away from her at a point far off in the distance, leaving her feeling very much alone. 

Her legs were cold and stiff from standing still for so long, and when she shifted slightly on the gnarled root beneath her feet, she nearly lost her balance.  But Guy was there to steady her, and her face ended up pressed against his jacket as she leaned into him. She wrinkled her nose at the smell of so much wet leather, but his arm around her waist felt solid and reassuring. She nearly put her free arm around him in return before she stopped herself. This was Guy, after all.  Vasey’s right hand man, Robin’s enemy… and hers. 

She tried to dredge up the anger she had felt the night Guy had burned Knighton, to think of the flames licking up the sides of the walls of the only place she could remember calling home. On that night, the heat of her anger had threatened to burn her up from the inside, but now, time and the sharp chill of a spring rain had doused the fire, for she could find nothing left of her fury but a dull ache.  Many things were different now.  Guy was different.  His anger at her seemed to have burned itself out as well, and she knew he went out of his way and risked the Sheriff’s displeasure to make sure her father was well treated in his cell.

She slipped her arm around him and looked up just in time to catch the surprise on his face. It was not an expression she saw often on him, and it made him look younger and more vulnerable than he really was.  He recovered quickly and adjusted her cloak so that he was practically wearing it himself and sheltering her against his left side.

The tempo of his heartbeat was quick, but steady, and she felt her own heart pick up pace to match it.  The last time she had been this close to Guy, they had been at Locksley, and but for a plate of armor, he had been naked from the waist up.  She had almost let him kiss her that night, and if Robin had not been there as well, she might have, and things might have gone very differently. Best not to think of that, she told herself, which did nothing at all to drive the memory or the curiosity from her mind.

After what seemed like an eternity, Guy put one hand out, palm up, and drew it back a few seconds later wet with only a few small drops.

“It’s letting up,” he said, pushing back her hood from his face and shrugging off the cloak.  “We should try to ride.  It will be dark soon.” He positioned her cloak back onto her shoulders, and she brought her hands up to fasten the clasp at the same time he went to do it for her. Their hands touched, and Marian wrapped her fingers around his. Guy smiled and pulled her hood back up over her hair.  He let his other hand linger on the side of her face for a moment, stroking her cheek with his thumb, and he seemed surprised when she did not back away.

He was even more surprised when she tilted her face up and lightly brushed her lips against his.  She did not back away immediately when they parted, either, but looked up at him expectantly.  He bent to kiss her slowly, giving her every opportunity to protest, to stop him, to tell him that he was a fool for hoping that she might one day care for him again, but she did none of those things.  Instead, she let him kiss her, and she ran her hands through his wet hair as he pressed his lips against hers. It was a slow kiss, long and deep and hungry, and both of them were breathing hard when they parted.

“And you say that I am hard to understand?” Guy said, running his fingers over one of the curls that hung at the side of her face.  Neither of them mentioned what this might mean when they returned to Nottingham, or if it would mean anything at all. Lightning lit up the dim afternoon, and after a count of nine, the deep voice of the thunder rolled over Sherwood.

“The storm is moving again,” Marian said.  Guy helped her onto her horse, and kissed her hand when she was mounted.  Marian laughed and leaned down to kiss him on the cheek.  He steadied himself against her saddle and caught her in one last real kiss before letting her go.

“I must tell you… I will not be able to forget this,” he said.  It half sounded like a threat, and half as if he were dutifully warning her of something regrettable.

“Neither will I,” Marian said quietly.  “It is… not something I would wish to forget.”

Before he could answer her or ask her what she meant, she kicked her horse into a trot, and by the time he had untied his own horse’s reins and made ready to ride himself, she was already too far ahead of him for him to catch her safely in the growing dark, and there was nothing left for him to do but follow.