"I don't need relationship advice from someone who never had a date in his life."
Suit yourself, Moo-Moo. Just trying to help.
She knew he was right, of course. Robert had come after her that day because he loved her. She'd seen the way he fought when De Falaise took her captive.
And even though the months after that had been hard, Robert moving from Sherwood to the castle, them trying to build something up out of the aftermath of the Sheriff's rule — both in terms of the Rangers, and with regards to their personal feelings — there had still been moments to cherish.
Like the first night they spent together, after last year's Summer fete. Jack had the notion that it would be good to give the men and their new family a party, and though Robert had been resistant at first he'd finally been persuaded by Mary.
"We could all use a bit of… what was it Jack said? 'Down Time'," she'd told him.
The grounds of the castle had been open to all that day, with food and drink and music; some of which had been provided by a battery-powered stereo, some by Dale and his guitar. People from New Hope and other villages under Robert's protection had visited Nottingham, and said afterwards it had been well worth the trip. It reminded them that not everything in this post-virus world had gone sour. They were still alive after all, and still human. Even Robert, who'd been on tenterhooks waiting for some emergency or other to happen had loosened up after a couple of drinks.
"Come on," Mary had said, after some Dutch courage herself. "Dance with me."
Robert shook his head, so she'd leaned in then, whispering in his ear. "Please."
He'd allowed himself to be pulled up, and when he held her she could tell he was relaxing. Several dances, and several beers later, they'd found themselves walking through the grounds of the castle, alone in the moonlight. She'd pointed up at the stars and when he looked down again she'd kissed him. Not the kisses they'd shared since first meeting, the awkward, tentative brushing of lips they were used to — but a long, lingering kiss. Mary had felt her body turn to jelly as Robert responded: his hands on her back just as hers were clutching his shoulder-blades.
When both their hands started to explore further, they'd pulled apart — and it had been Robert, surprisingly, who'd suggested they find somewhere a little more private. "Maybe there's a room where people have left their coats," he suggested, and she'd laughed, feeling truly happy for the first time in a long while. Though she should have been scared because this was her first time, Mary was far from it. Even if things had felt uncomfortable before, nothing on that special night did. It felt right, so right.
Sure, she could put it down to the alcohol, the atmosphere of the party. But to her it just felt like they were finally on the same page. That now he wanted her as much as she'd always wanted him. And it had been amazing, truly amazing. She'd placed herself in Robert's hands and he hadn't failed to live up to her imagination.
Then, waking up that morning with Robert lying next to her, she'd experienced a horrible sinking feeling. What if he regrets what we did? What if he rejects me? She'd kept quiet, frozen, just watching — waiting for him to rouse, but at the same time hoping he'd sleep forever so she wouldn't have to face the disappointment.
What a relief, then, when he'd woken up and smiled.
"Hello sweetheart," she said.
His smile had widened.
Yay me, she'd said to herself.
It was a million miles away from sitting here in that same bed and crying her heart out. When she thought back to those first couple of months of being together, properly together, it just made her feel worse. They'd spent as much time as they possibly could in each other's company, working around schedules, finding private moments. Most of the castle — and most of Robert's men — knew. Had to by the daft grins on both their faces.
Lately, though, they'd spent less and less time together… especially in that way. Admittedly, Robert had been worrying about this cult — and who could blame him? She had been busy too, dealing with the day-to-day running of the castle, tending to any injured men that came back from patrols with nursing skills she'd built on since Robert had found her at her farm; studying from text books she and the men brought back, not to mention teaching those same skills to others. They were both tired and, more often than not, would just go to sleep at night.
She'd read about this in women's magazines and the glossies that were delivered with the weekend papers, back before the world changed. The problem pages were full of stuff about 'Honeymoon Periods' and what happens afterwards when real life intrudes. And although Mary knew this was meant to signal them being more comfortable with each other — solid couples didn't have to show affection like that all the time — she couldn't help feeling more than a little unwanted.
At the same time he was growing increasingly distant. It came to a head when he'd begun training again, working out to try and get fit; exercising muscles that had grown flabby from lack of use.
Then one day he announced he was going out with the patrol again, going out to assess the threat of the cult personally. They hadn't even discussed this and it had thrown her completely.
"Why, Robert? Why does it have to be you? And why now? Jack can-"
"I'm going, Mary. And that's that."
They'd rowed, he'd stormed off, and he'd left without even saying goodbye. Maybe she should have been more laid back — after all, he'd been leading a band of men when she first met him, fighting De Falaise's troops. But he'd also got himself blown up that day, would probably have died if she hadn't been there to tend to his wounds. She couldn't shake that image from her mind — of him unconscious in the back of the truck, on his way to Sherwood…
He'd recovered, of course, faster really than he should have. But what if he didn't next time? What if she had to cradle his head as he died? What if she didn't even get the chance to say goodbye?
It was why she'd pulled that 'stunt', as her brother called it: drugging Robert and taking his place for the final battle with the Sheriff. She'd wanted to keep him safe, that's all. Wanted to protect the man she loved.
He can look after himself, David had told her, and she knew deep down he was right.
That didn't stop her worrying. And none of this would help them get back to how they'd been during those summer and autumn months.
Mary dried her eyes with the bed sheets, then got out and wrapped her robe around her. She'd go down and drag him back to bed if she had to, talk to him, maybe do more than that. Show him how much she'd missed him, how much she still loved him.
He'd said he was going for a drink of water, which he often did when he couldn't sleep. She knew she'd find him in the cafe probably looking out through those big windows.
Mary stopped dead in her tracks when she heard voices from inside. Two voices: one Robert's, the other a woman's. As she drew closer, keeping quiet, she saw them inside. Lit by candles, they were sitting at one of the tables. Mary realised she could have marched past with a brass band and they wouldn't have noticed, they were so wrapped up in conversation. Though try as she might, she couldn't hear what was being said.
The woman with Robert — her Robert — had her back to Mary. But she knew who it was, even without the short hair as a clue.
Right, that does it… I'm going to…
Do what, Moo-Moo, storm in there and make a fool of yourself? They're only talking.
I know, but-