That evening, riding home from Bonchurch with his infant daughter strapped to him, Robin's cheerful mood changed to one of concern.

Something was bothering Marian, he could tell as he studied her riding beside him on her sleek chestnut palfrey, something stronger than mere annoyance at having spent the last several hours as Much's dinner guest.

It wasn't her silence...there were plenty of times when the two of them would be silent, simply enjoying each other's presence, neither disturbing the other's thoughts, the way Much couldn't. And then, one would catch the other's eye and smile, and break the silence to find that their thoughts had kept pace together. But tonight, Marian's silence held no contentment. Her lips pressed tightly together, as if she were keeping her thoughts locked away. And when her eyes glanced his direction, they only looked at Ellie, never at him.

Reining his horse, Robin broke the silence by asking, "Marian, what's wrong?"

Marian reined her horse as well, but didn't answer. Without looking him in the eye, she pressed her lips even more tightly together and shook her head briskly.

All day, after learning that King Richard planned to finish his Crusade to the Holy Land once the three-year truce with Saladin ended, Marian had silently anguished over the possibility of Robin leaving her again to follow his king. She felt as if she were being plunged backward through time, to relive the heartbreak of him leaving, and the possibility that he would never return.

She had believed the days when Robin faced death on a daily basis were over at last. But it seemed they would soon begin again, and Marian did not know how she could accept it.

Forcing her eyes to meet Robin's at last, Marian caught her breath. He hadn't pressed her to speak...he'd only waited until she was ready. He was looking at her so deeply, with that look of his that hid none of his love, caring, or concern.

The depth of emotion in that look was too much for Marian. Knowing how he loved her, how she loved him, she knew that she couldn't bare to lose him. She couldn't breathe. She was drowning in his look.

As if fighting her way to the surface, Marian blurted out, "You were rude tonight."

It was a lie, a distraction from her real concern, but it would do.

Robin's eyebrows shot up, showing his surprise. "Rude?" he repeated. "How? I didn't mean to be. Tell me what I did, Marian, or said, and I'll apologize."

Her horse stamped, sensing her uneasiness in deceiving her husband. "Not to me," she snapped, her distress playing as anger. "To Much."

Robin smiled, relieved. "Much doesn't mind. In fact, he likes it. You should know by now, we kid each other." Looking even more deeply into her, he lowered his voice, asking, "What's really bothering you?"

Marian struggled, feeling herself sink into that intense gaze in those blue eyes of his.

No! She would never admit to her fear!

"You were rude," she restated. "If Much didn't notice, it's only because he's an idiot."

"Marian!"

"Eve noticed. She doesn't like the way you waltz into Bonchurch, as if you still own it! Make up your mind, Robin. Is Bonchurch still yours, or does it belong to Much?"

Justifiably angry, Robin's temper flared. Now both horses were stamping the ground, and both riders were gripping the reins, unaware of anything but their anger toward each other.

"Much earned it. Bonchurch is his, and I never forget that. And he is not an idiot."

Marian rolled her eyes, scoffing at his argument. In truth, his words wounded her.

Much earned it. He had, she knew, serving their King, fighting the Saracens, in addition to fighting the sheriff after they returned home. He wasn't an idiot, she knew. He was brave, and loyal...in many ways braver and more loyal than she.

"Since he earned it," she continued, "you could show a bit of respect, and not treat his estate as if it's yours."

"How did I do that?" Robin shouted.

Ellie began to fuss, upset by the angry voices.

"Shh," Robin soothed, stroking the baby's downy hair. "How did I do that?" he repeated to Marian, almost whispering now that their daughter had calmed.

Marian had no answer. Robin had been polite tonight, though there was a fraction of truth in her accusation. Bonchurch had belonged to him once, having been built under his grandfather as a hunting lodge, and he did act at home whenever he visited Much there. And yet, where did he not act "at home?" His natural confidence placed him at home everywhere, from the late sheriff's dungeons to the royal Court in London.

Not wanting to reveal what truly bothered her, Marian kicked her heels into her horse's ribs and took off at a gallop.

Breathing an exasperated sigh, Robin followed her.

Arriving home to Locksley, both were surprised to find two new magnificent horses in their stables.

"He doesn't want it known, Master Robin," Ian, their stable master told them. "But the King and Queen are here."