Old Man Elbert, nearly as blind as a bat at eighty-seven years, could still find his way about the outer edges of the forest without any help.

Elbert knew just where the tastiest mushrooms could be found...not those wicked mushrooms that made you see and hear things that weren't there, that the scoundrel tavern keeper Allan a Dale used to favor, nor the ones that would poison you like one of Queen Isabella's potions, but the tasty ones that simply flavored your broth. And so today, just as he had done for years, Elbert trudged his way near the bank of the river Trent, pushing aside layers of leaf mold, to gather mushrooms.

Unable to see clearly, he was confused when his walking staff poked something much larger than a bed of mushrooms, then grew alarmed when it leaped to its feet, drew forth its sword, and swore at him.

Terror nearly crushed him when he recognized the deep, furious voice of the one-time wrongful Lord of Locksley, but he soon recovered, thinking his ears had deceived him. After all, it couldn't be. Sir Guy of Gisbourne had long since fled to France, never to return to English soil, or so Elbert and the rest of Nottinghamshire believed.

No indeed, it couldn't be Gisbourne. Elbert took comfort, knowing his hearing was nearly as poor as his eyesight.

Startled awake from his hiding place under the cover of leaves, Gisbourne immediately recognized the old man as some harmless dottering peasant who lived in the vicinity of Locksley. "Here to steal from the king's forest?" he sneered. "What's the matter? Doesn't the Lord of Locksley enforce the forestry laws?"

Old Man Elbert chuckled merrily. "Bless him!" he cried, enthusiastically. "Master Robin gives us leave to take whatever we need, laws or no laws! 'Why should I,' says he, with that twinkle in his eye, 'because of my birth, have permission to take what God provides, while the rest of you starve? I can't allow that.' Yes indeed, we are all well fed and happy, now that Master Robin's back home in Locksley!"

Gisbourne growled under his breath. "He's married, I presume?"

"What's that? Oh! Married! Yes he is, and a prettier lady never graced the manor, though my old eyes can't make her out any more! Two turtle-doves, that's what they are, when they're not arguing, and even then...you can tell they're mad for each other! A darling little family, with their two little girls, so rosy and happy!"

Elbert had no idea how his words made Gisbourne seethe inside. None of the hatred he held for Hood, nor his hunger to possess Marian, had dissipated during the three years he'd been hiding in France. If anything, they had grown, fueled by his blood lust for revenge.

And now he had returned, to achieve what was driving him. Kill Hood at last, and take Marian as his own.

The sound of thundering hoofbeats drew near, causing Gisbourne to drop to the ground to watch and hide. Old Man Elbert felt the vibration, chuckled lightly, and informed Gisbourne, "That will be Their Lord and Ladyship now!"

Flying by, Marian's horse outpaced Robin's by a nose, as the pair raced across the meadow and into the forest, courting danger at breakneck speed. Gisbourne's eyes locked onto Marian. His breath became rapid and heavy while his eyes devoured her as she raced by...her beautiful sapphire eyes sparkling with excitement, her smooth, creamy cheeks flushed, her thick, dark hair streaming behind her, and her body...! Despite the dottering old fool's gossip of her being a mother to two brats, her body retained its full, luscious curves that Gisbourne lusted after in his mind every night before falling asleep, unsated in his overwhelming desire to possess it.

Deeper within the forest, Robin drew rein, calling out, "Whoa!" to his galloping horse. Marian, hearing him, did likewise.

"What's the matter?" she asked, smiling down at him after he swung down from his saddle.

"Come here," he invited, grinning irresistably up at her.

"Why should I?"

"Just get down."

"Why?"

Grinning even more broadly, Robin grasped her around her waist and pulled her off her horse. Surprise and indignation quickly turned to pleasure, when she found herself in his arms.

"I have something to show you," he laughed into her ear, in his inviting, intimate tone she found hard to resist.

"Admit I won first," she told him, flashing her dimples as she wrapped her arms around his neck.

"You won. And now, you may claim your prize."

She scoffed, laughing at his impudence. "What prize? A kiss from your lips?"

"Yes."

"Some prize! I was hoping for a-"

They almost forgot why they'd reined their horses, lost in a series of deep, romantic, thrilling kisses.

Impatient, Marian's horse whinnied and pawed the ground, making the lovers draw apart and laugh.

"Alright, Handsome," Marian said, smoothing back her hair, "what do you want to show me?"

Taking hold of her hand, Robin led her around an oak, then stood back, grinning proudly.

Blushing, Marian tried to hide her knowledge. "A tree?" she gasped. "A tree in the forest? Robin of Locksley, have you lost your mind?"

"You need to look closer! It's what's carved in the tree trunk, that matters."

"I don't see anything," she lied.

Despite her protests, she knew the tree. Years before, when she'd been a foolish girl of thirteen, she'd carved their initials within a heart in the tree trunk, not knowing Robin had done the same to numerous other trees. Although the bark had grown and split in places, the carving was still legible.

"Alright," she admitted. "So I carved our initials. What of it?"

"You put your initials first," he said, laughing boldly.

"I also used this tree for target practice," she boasted. "I used to come here, and throw my dagger at your R.L., over and over again."

"When I was at war?"

She nodded. "And sometimes, after you came back."

"I'm glad you did! I always wondered how your aim was so good, when you pitched your hairpin in that guard's shoulder."

"Now you know."

Bending down, Robin picked a handful of violets that were growing at the base of the tree, and presented them to his wife.

"You're romantic," she teased him, inhaling the flowers' sweet aroma. "What's the occasion?"

"I agree with what's on the tree," he grinned, pointing his thumb at the carving.

"You gave me violets when we celebrated our wedding night," Marian remembered, fondly.

Playfulness gave way to seriousness, when he clasped her in his arms and kissed her again.

"We need to get back," she whispered, laying her head on his shoulder. "Gracie will cry, if she wakes from her nap and I'm not there."

Nodding, Robin walked her back to her horse, then swung himself onto his horse's broad back. "Race you home?" he invited.

In a flash they were off, galloping so quickly through the thick maze of trees, any rider with less skill would have collided and lost his seat.

So absorbed in each other were they, neither had noticed the tall, black clad figure that had snuck upon them, witnessing most of the tender scene.

Tasting the hatred that consumed him, Guy of Gisbourne threw back his head and roared a hoarse, animal cry.