Guy And Marian Retold

Guy And Marian Get Married

I turned around to face him, and gasped softly at his expression, which had turned hungry. He held out his arm and I took it, walking with him toward Locksley Manor. It should have been Robin walking me in -- it was Robin's house. My mind told me to run, but my feet kept moving forward, toward a future that had everything I wanted, except the most important part.  I almost wanted to cry, but I refused to show my tears.

When we got to the door, he stopped and turned to look at me, as if contemplating something. Suddenly he bent down and swept me into his arms. I gasped in surprise, and he smiled, whispering in my ear that he wanted to carry me across the threshold. That was fine with me -- I was tired anyway, and it was getting harder to walk.  I wrapped my arms around his neck and our eyes met and held. Something warm shot through me at the look in his eyes.  He looked as if he wanted to say something, but then shook his head as if to banish the thought. I continued to gaze at his face as he concentrated on walking, taking in his profile and the stubble that had started growing in since the morning.

He carried me through the dining area and up the stairs to our room, setting me down once we were inside. He told me he would let me get into my nightgown, and be back in a few minutes. His voice was low and husky, and perhaps a little tremulous. I started to nod my head, but then realized with a blush that I couldn't get out of my wedding dress by myself, and asked him to unbutton it. He nodded and I turned slowly around until I was facing the bed.  I waited for what seemed an eternity for him to start.

His fingers brushed the nape of my neck as he reached to undo the first button and I caught my breath. My skin felt like it was on fire where he had touched it. I closed my eyes and swayed slightly, grabbing hold of the bed's corner post to steady myself. I thought he would chuckle, but all I heard was his breathing, which had sped up to match mine. His fingers traced the line of my dress as he parted the sides, undoing the buttons agonizingly slowly, our breathing getting harsher with each passing moment. When I thought I could stand no more, I felt him undo the last button at the small of my back, and his hands traced back up to the nape of my neck, moving the dress off my shoulders.  Never had undressing been such a sensuous activity; never had it left me wanting something more, even though I didn't know what that was.

He stepped closer, now standing right behind me, his face at the back of my head. He pressed his nose into my hair and inhaled, whispering my name as he exhaled. His hands moved under the parted sides of my dress, finding the swells at the sides of my breasts. He moved his head so his lips were at the juncture of my neck and shoulder, pressing soft kisses to my already sensitive skin. I was lost to sensation, and started leaning back, searching for his chest with my back. This in turn gave his hands better access to my front, and they cupped my breasts, eliciting a soft moan from both of us.

I was aching, needing him to touch more of me, but as his hands left my breasts and stroked down my stomach, I remembered the bandage, and quickly stepped away. Working to get my breathing under control, I told him I wanted to get my nightgown on, and to please give me a few minutes. After a few moments of silence, he agreed, and told me I would find it on the bed. I nodded my head without looking at him, and he went back downstairs.

I hurriedly got undressed, checked my bandage, put on the flimsy nightgown, and got under the covers. After a moment's hesitation, I pulled myself up so I was sitting in the bed, but brought the covers up under my arms. True to his word, he entered soon after. I figured he must have heard my feet moving across the floor, because he didn't knock, just came in. Of course, he was my husband now, and this was his (our) room, so why should he knock?

He glanced at me in the bed (was that nervousness in his eyes?), then moved to the foot, where he sat on the bench and took off his shoes. Having nothing else to do, I watched, which I soon realized was a mistake, but I couldn't take my eyes off him. I started realizing that it was my wedding night -- I might as well do my best to enjoy it.  He took off his shirt first, and I saw at least a dozen long-healed but angry looking scars on his back. I suddenly felt the urge to kiss them, then mentally smacked myself. Get it together!