Everything I Do: a Robin Hood romance (Rosa Fitzwalter Book 1) by M.C. Frank Page B

himself. He’d mentally kicked himself a thousand times since this morning.
    He had felt so afraid when he had ridden into the forest this morning. It had been worse than he let everyone believe. They had faced death this day, and he had known beforehand that it would be so. Will’s capture had been the Sheriff’s men’s prize, and they had left them alone after that, not willing to risk their lives to unseen arrows anymore.
    That’s why the rest of his band had escaped unscathed.
    But their enemies had now Will to use as a bait, to torture, to plan to execute again and again until Robin could bear it no more and would go and try to free him. And then they would catch them all. Except… Rose had said she believed he could do it. Was it possible he could once again fool the Sheriff, especially now that he seemed to hold them in his hand? No, the girl simply overestimated his strength. It was a consolation, nothing more.
    Yes, he had been afraid that morning and for good reason. But he had faced danger, even certain death, before. And it was always with a smile on his face, mocking death even as it approached. What had changed now?
    It was she, he knew it.
    She was the reason he was afraid. From the first day he saw her, even dressed as a boy, he’d known fear, fear he had sworn he never would feel again. Fear for her safety; fear that he would lose her. Fear that he would never lay eyes on her lovely face again, or that he would never be heartened by her courageous words again. That’s what had made him turn his horse around and take her in his arms. He’d kissed her hungrily, desperately, and he was ashamed of himself now to remember it, for she had been a maiden sweet and innocent before he had dishonored her in such a coward’s way; but he had done it, and couldn’t take it back.
    It was true that it was because of her kiss that he’d fought like a lion; that he’d rushed from one group of his men to the other and back, that he’d been everywhere at once, defending his men like a bear awakened from his sleep. It was with the taste of her sweet lips on his that he had defied death and hadn’t cared whether he ever got back to the roaring fire of the camp.
    It was a kiss worth dying for.
    But he had been wrong to take it from her. And when he got back, and saw her struggling like a common maidservant, with a pail large enough to fit her whole inside, his anger had exploded. It was true, she was indeed a servant, but to him she was a princess, a queen even, someone to revere and serve and protect. What was he doing to her by encouraging her visits? Putting her in grave danger and risking her reputation and even her virtue itself, as of today.
    And now she was cold.
    Was it not enough that she counted her life as naught so as to serve him that he would knowingly endanger her health too?
    He took off his heavy green cloak and fastened it around her slender white neck, trying not to come in contact with her velvet skin, his fingers shaking. The least he could do was try to keep his filthy hands away from her. He didn’t dare even look at her, but he knew he couldn’t resist for long.
    Eventually he turned to face her and saw that she was fighting against tears.
    He froze. His horse stumbled to a stop and he felt like laying himself at her feet and begging her to forgive him. She stopped a few paces ahead of him and turned questioning eyes to his face.
    “Are you unhappy?” he asked, his voice strange, hoarse, unrecognizable.
    “I think you are too,” she retorted.
    Robin hung his head in shame. She was right. He had no right to ask her, especially since he knew he was the source of her distress.
    “I have good reason to be,” he replied, still not looking at her, wondering about how he could ever apologize to her.
    “My heart aches for your friend, master, too, but worry not, I am sure-”
    Her gentle voice, trying to console him, made him feel even guiltier. He spoke fast, not being able to bear her