2.

Duchess Marsillia Lancaster stepped out of the black wooden carriage with the help of the footman. She thanked him and looked up at the towering castle in front of her as she dusted her silk green dress free of any dirt. She kept thinking back to the boys, something there needed her attention. But she hadn't had the time to face it, yet. Lifting her head high, she started walking towards the front door.

The doormen bowed to her and then ushered her inside to where her aunt and uncle were waiting. Marsillia desperately wanted somewhere to rest and think on what she'd seen, but she knew appearances were everything, especially when you were a lady. So, she straightened her already ram-rod straight back and prepared herself.

"Oh, dear, are you all right?" her uncle boomed, coming to gently take Marsillia's hand in a gesture to comfort. Her aunt stayed the customary two steps behind her husband. She would not speak a word unless spoken to. Her uncle however, was notorious for speaking loudly.

Marsillia smiled, "Uncle, do not worry. I am grateful the vagabonds only took my father's coins."

Her uncle shook his head, "My dear! They must have given you a fright! Go rest in your room and I will deal with telling Donestan that his patrols are lacking."

From what Marsillia had heard of Donestan, that wasn't going to be an easy task. Donestan's anger was supposed to be legendary and frightful. But she did as told, if only to simply get somewhere she could think. She nodded at her uncle and smiled demurely. He nodded back and turned, snapping his fingers high above his head as he walked away.

It was a signal for the maid, whom Marsillia hadn't even seen, to come and lead her away. She was a mousy thing, but Marsillia figured Donestan would keep only the best. "My lady," the maid muttered, taking the customary bow. Marsillia nodded back.

"This way, my lady." The maid gestured as she led Marsillia down the large marble-floored hall.

Marsillia was entranced. Lord Donestan was known throughout the land as materialistic, but she'd never seen a place more handsomely furnished. It was beautiful, decorated with red and gold wherever the eye could see. The hallway was big enough for a team of horses to get through.

The maid stopped at a door on the left, all the way down the hall. Marsillia hoped she could remember how to get to the main rooms. Donestan had divided the castle into large wings separated in w way that she had a hard time understanding.

"Here you go, miss." The maid whispered, opening the large oak door. Marsillia nodded and said, "Thank you, you are dismissed."

"Of course, madam. Your belongings will be brought up shortly."

Marsillia nodded and stepped into her room, closing the door behind her. She gaped. Her uncle was very high up in Donestan's court, but she never would have thought that would have given her a room like this. It was enormous, with stone floors and a fireplace. Inside the fireplace, a large fire was already contentedly heating the room. Across from the fireplace was a four-poster bed she thought the distant king would be jealous. It stood nearly half her height with billowing red drapes swinging around the golden-sheeted bed.

She went over to it and crawled onto it. Hoping up and down to better situate herself in the middle, she sighed with satisfaction. Now that she was alone she thought back to this morning. She laid herself flat on the bed, eyes closing to better remember.

Her father, the Duke of Ershire, had passed away two days ago. He'd left her his money and his title. She was officially the Duchess of Ershire. She'd come to live with her uncle, Robert of Ged. She'd journeyed miles to his estate, only to discover he'd moved into Lord Donestan's enormous village. Everyone who was anyone moved to the village. Donestan was even better known than the prince, and much better liked.

On the way there, she'd been robbed. Oh, she knew the tales of the terrible outlaws Donestan was trying nearly in vain to exterminate. They caused mayhem and frightened away villagers as they ruled over 'their' forest. Donestan always sent guards to hunt for the outlaws, but none were ever found. She never believed anything would happen to her, though.

But it had. And strangely, her heart still beat with remembered adrenaline. Two young boys, one tall, and the other one short. The tall one fascinated her, something about his movements, his voice, the lips she'd seen curve into a smile, made her want to know more about him. She wanted to know what hid under his hood and then wondered why she wanted to in the first place.

The second one stumped her. This one was gruff, aggressive. There was something in the way he'd stood, or held the knife that had gotten her attention. While she'd been staring down the end of a jagged hunting knife, Marsillia hadn't been able to focus much. Now, thinking back, she could. Her eyes opened with a snap as a wave of epiphany hit her.

The reason she'd been so confused with the younger boy had been his hands were too feminine. Even covered with dirt and the nails torn ragged like they were, something about them was girlish. True, he could be a very young and lithe boy. But Marsillia was sure. After all, shouldn't a woman be able to spot another? And, if she thought hard enough, she could remember tiny swells on the lad's shirt. Breasts.

A girl as an outlaw wasn't that strange. But Marsillia would have thought she'd be at home, cooking and de-feathering food. Not out robbing strangers and masquerading as a boy. Marsillia sighed, wondering why she even cared that one of them had been a girl. They were Bruhams, maybe all women dressed as boys, for all she knew. Marsillia had never been one to think outside the box. Sure, she had a few friends that dreamed of higher stations for women, and even one who had aspired to be a blacksmith. But Marsillia herself had never dreamed about anything much more than passing fancies. Or if she had, she must have learned women didn't have dreams.

So why did she suddenly wonder what it would be like, out in those woods?

Marsillia spent that night tossing and turning, trying to let the half thought-out plan drain out her ears. It wasn't working. It seemed to stick to her like burrs in a hound dog's ears. Finally, after the crack of dawn, she got out of bed. Sleep, it seemed, would elude her until her stupid plan was put into action. She knew her plan was stupid, but she also knew something had grabbed onto her the moment she'd seen the two in the forest. She slid her hair up into a tight and high coiled braided bun. Then, she put on her outdoor clothes: a finely woven tan dress with a dusty-red shawl.

She managed to slip out of the castle unnoticed, except for the doormen. But doormen, Marsillia was sure, were sworn to secrecy. It took her a while to find the stables and even longer to get the bay mare she'd used the day before. She wasn't a big horse person and the old sweet mare was the only one Marsillia wasn't really afraid of.

The streets were waking up when she trotted out of town and into Bruhamoff Forest. She really hoped no one saw her. Even if they didn't know her name, if they saw her at court and connected her to a woman going alone into the forest she knew she'd never live it down. Almost immediately, it seemed the dark tree tops swallowed the sun.

She slowed the horse to a walk. Birds were singing sweet tunes, but her heart thudded with fear. She nearly yelled at herself, what was she thinking waltzing right into a forest full of dangerous outlaws? She thought about turning back, going home. But her back straightened with determination. There was no way an outlaw was going to scare a Duchess. If she wanted a slow ride through the forest of her lord, she was going to do so.

Not even thinking that calmed her heart as much as she would have liked it to. The bay mare continued to clomp along, apparently oblivious to her fear. Marsillia slowly allowed the birds' tunes to entrance her. Their sweet tune and her peace were unbroken. She was surprised to find that it was actually beautiful here, the dark and rich greens. Finally, a sense of calm came over her.

Until an arrow embedded itself in a branch she was moving out of her face, inches away from her pale hand. She couldn't help it, she screamed, loud and shrilly. The horse reared in surprise and shied away from the branch. The equine's movements were too fast and too sudden for an unaccomplished horsewoman like Marsillia to even imagine hanging on. The bay mare bolted back towards the village.

She landed face-down in the middle of the road, breathing in dust. Heaving for breath, she brought a shaking hand to her face and wiped her hair and dirt from her eyes. Her heart was thudding with fear and her head was reeling. There was a loud bird whistling and chiding shrilly, as if its' babe had fallen from its' nest. Sitting up, she looked for her attacker.

They were nowhere to be seen. Still coughing, Marsillia slowly stood up and brushed herself off. An arrow screamed past her shoulder and slammed into a tree behind her. Once again, she shrieked and ducked in fear. When she felt brave enough to stand up straight, she wildly looked around.

This time, she heard a chuckle. Anger replaced her fear. Not only were they scaring her, they were laughing at her as well. Standing up straight, Marsillia scanned the entirety of the forest in front of her. She exclaimed, "Leave me alone!"

Her voice, loud and shrill with fear even to her own ears, echoed throughout the forest. There was no response, save for the sound of two birds arguing. When her bravado began to fade, some bushes in front of her began to slowly shift. Her breath caught in her throat, a manner of crazy images flooded her mind. She stared wide-eyed as a figure emerged.

It was the taller boy from the day before. He wore the same clothes, except for the change that his hood was in his hand. In the same hand, a large and wooden bow served as a walking stick. As Marsillia stared at him, he roguishly smiled, "Leave yas 'lone? I'd figure ya learn'd ya lesson yest'rday."

He leaned forward on his bow and smiled at her. His accent made the process of understanding his words a little harder than normal. She doubted his good looks helped her brain work faster. He was so ruggedly different than any courtier she'd ever seen before. He was unquestionably dirty, which made him all the more masculine in her eyes. And he was tall, more than a foot above her height, which made him different. Marsillia felt it made him more enticing.

Why was she thinking the word enticing in reference to an outlaw? It was mad, she should be afraid, huddled in fear that he would kill her, rape her, or something equally nasty. Instead, she just stood there like a limp duck, its' neck wrung and ready for de-feathering. Marsillia blinked, forcing herself to respond as all ladies were expected to. She tossed the few pieces of her hair that had fallen over her shoulders and then scoffed, "You call that teaching?"

He laughed a deep chuckle. "Not 'xactly, take ya beauty as the reason ya still 'ave yer neck."

Marsillia glared, was he threatening her while complimenting her? She couldn't tell. And normally, at court, she could tell what anyone wanted with her eyes closed. She looked around, hoping the bay mare would return, or perhaps somone's carriage might interrupt this meeting with the cute stranger...

What was wrong with her, seriously? Focus, focus, she told herself before responding, "What do you want with me? I have no jewels to give you today."

The boy winced, "Bollocks, never thought I'd be doin' this duff."

He grimaced and sighed. There was another soft coo from a nearby bird that gained his attention. Marsillia found nothing wrong with it, the bird was simply singing, but he looked at her and muttered something. He then looked down at his boots and cursed," Oh, sod it."

Marsillia's ears were burning; she'd never heard such foul language in her presence before. The boy reached behind him and untied something from his belt. Bringing it out from behind his leather cloak, she recognized her coins.

"'Ere," he held it out to her.

Marsillia didn't understand, but she took a step forward anyway. Was he actually giving her the coins back? Was this a trap? Were more Bruhams waiting in the bushes to attack her? But, he didn't look to be lying, though she had no real experience with his face to compare it to. She grabbed the coins and looked up at him. "Thank you."

"Ah, well." He sighed and muttered more curses under his breath. He glanced over his shoulder when a bird started twittering nervously.

Marsillia looked up, "May I know your name?"

There, she said it. The question that had sat at the tip of her tongue for a good while. She could use his name for many reasons; turn him in, spread the word, etc. The reason she asked had been so she knew whose name she could gush about in her diary, if she'd brought that diary with her. She couldn't remember if she had, he was making it hard to breathe. Well, if she hadn't, at least in her new dreams she would know.

He looked surprised, taking one step back from her. "Wot?"

Marsillia bit her lip, her sudden bravery gone. What was she doing, asking an outlaw for his name? Why was she standing here talking with him anyway? She had her coins, she should go on.

"What is your name?" she asked again, a little less brazenly than before. Her feet refuse to move.

The boy stared at her for a moment. Then he glanced down the road and behind him, as if he'd heard something. He kept his gaze focused on a bush. His green-eyed stare was so intense, she wondered if he was seeing something. She followed his gaze and saw nothing but green and black shadows.

Just when she was beginning to wonder if he'd understood her, he straightened and turned to her. He sucked in a breath and smiled, "Rowan."

Marsillia smiled, "I'm Marsillia Lancaster."

At that moment, a particularly loud bird began to chatter, shrill and angrily. The sudden noise made Marsillia jump. She figured Rowan would know exactly what type of bird it was and if it was dangerous. However, Rowan looked just as unnerved as she did. He sighed, cursed more foully than before and looked back at the bushes again. The bird continued its' loud shrill and screeching racket. Marsillia looked up to see what type of bird could be so annoying. She didn't have any luck finding it.

When she looked down, Rowan stepped back from his position behind her. She almost screamed because he'd moved so silently she hadn't a clue he'd walked behind her. In his hand, he held both arrows he'd shot. He smiled, showing her that was all he was doing and placed them in his quiver. She narrowed her eyes, was he making fun of her?

Walking with a slow and almost swaggering pace, Rowan stepped into the bushes from which he'd emerged. He turned back and warned in a deep gravelly whisper that chilled her, but not in the way he was probably hoping for, "Ya best not come back here, ya mot want ta keep yer perty face."

Marsillia stared after him, her face still burning and her head still reeling. She had a feeling inside her chest she'd not felt in a very long time. It was almost as if someone had set her on fire and then dropped her from a tree a hundred feet in the air and she had yet to complete the fall. Not since she was thirteen had a male made her feel this way.

She hoped her clouded and foggy mind would be able to clear enough that she could find her way home.