Outcasts

Chapter 45 - More Inebriating Than Wine

Robin lay on the bed, in the dark room. The only light in the bedroom came from the fireplace and the flames created a dance of shadows on the walls. Robin stared at the ceiling, listening to the sounds of the party.
The people sounded happy and even Allan's voice seemed more pleasant than usual.
Once Robin would have been happy to be at the centre of the crowd, with the attention of everyone on himself, but now he couldn't bear the idea of facing any of the peasants from Locksley. He wondered how Guy was doing, but he didn't dare to go at the door and look.
He was startled when someone entered the room, but he relaxed seeing that it was Isabella.
The woman came inside carrying a tray full of food and a jug of wine and she placed them on a little table near the bed.
"Hungry?" She asked, taking a chair and sitting on it.
Robin sat up in bed to look at her.
"Not really, but thank you."
Isabella filled a cup with wine and handed it to Robin.
"Try this. The sheriff brought it and the guests seems to really enjoy it."
Robin lifted an eyebrow.
"Are you trying to get me drunk?"
Isabella smiled.
"Why not? Sometimes I wish I could do it and forget everything else. But I guess that in the end it would be even worse. Did Guy ever tell you about the first and only time in my life I got drunk?"
Robin shook his head.
"Your brother and I didn't have many chances or the will to talk, in the past..."
"You do it, now. And you seem to enjoy it too."
Robin realized that it was true and that he felt at ease in spending time with Gisborne, even if they spent most of that time bickering about trivial things.
"Probably we both prefer leaving the past in the past. Some things are best forgotten, I guess. So, how did you get drunk?"
Isabella grinned.
"I was eleven or twelve and we were in France. When we first arrived there, Guy had hoped that our mother's relatives would take us with them, but they rejected us, because they had disowned maman when she had married our father. We didn't know about it, our mother never told us that her family blamed her for marrying an English knight... So we were alone in a foreign country and we had to fend for ourselves. Guy worked hard to provide for us, but there were days when we had to sleep in a stable, hungry and dejected. One of those nights, we found out a flask full of wine, hidden under the hay."
"So you drank it?"
"Probably it belonged to some stable boy who wanted to hide his drinking habits to his master, but we were starving and thirsty, and Guy agreed to take some of it. He said that we should only get a little of it, just a few sips to quench our thirst and to get some strength. He let me drink a little, then he took the flask away, putting it back under the hay. But I was still hungry and feeling miserable, so later, when Guy fell asleep, I went to retrieve the flask and I drank it all."
"A whole flask at twelve? On an empty stomach?" Robin asked, with a grin.
"At first it felt good: I had my belly full, and the wine made me feel warm and light, as if nothing mattered anymore. It didn't last much, though: Guy woke up because I was giggling and singing and, when he found out what I had done, he was mad at me. He began scolding me, and at first I didn't care, but then I began feeling guilty and sick. I cried and cried and I ended up throwing up on his feet. I don't know if Guy was more angry or worried that night... I was as sick as a dog, and when I woke up in the morning I also found out that I had wet myself. I never told Guy about this part, because in the past I had teased him too much when it happened to him and I didn't want my brother to get back at me."
"But you are telling me now. Aren't you afraid that I could tell Guy?" Robin asked, amused, but Isabella laughed.
"Oh, I know you wouldn't. I trust you."
Robin saddened at those words, thinking of all the people who had trusted him and who he had disappointed.
"Maybe you shouldn't." He said, bitterly.
"Maybe I should get you drunk, after all. I wanted to make you feel better, not to get you depressed."
Robin tried to joke.
"So you want me to be as sick as a dog and throw up on your feet?"
"It would be better than seeing you wasting away in sadness. But I know another way to forget our sorrow. A better way. One that doesn't involve throwing up on anyone's feet..." Isabella said, looking at him and searching his gaze.
"Really? It sounds interesting..."
Isabella smiled.
"It is."
She put a hand on Robin's cheek, caressing him tenderly, then, after a moment, she stooped to kiss him.
Robin pulled her into a tight embrace, deepening the kiss, and Isabella responded to it with all her passion. Sooner than they could decide if it was wise or not, they were both laying on the bed, touching, exploring, discovering each other's body.
Robin undid the laces of Isabella's dress, eagerly pushing it out of their way, and he could feel her fingers doing the same on his breeches, her touch both shy and daring, her hand trembling and warm on his skin. He didn't know if the door of the room was locked or not, and he could hear the sounds of the party behind it, the voice of Allan singing, and the people chattering and laughing.
If Isabella hadn't locked the door behind herself, a curious peasant or Gisborne himself could enter the room at any moment, but strangely this knowledge did nothing to diminish the passion he was feeling. Actually, the risk of being caught increased the excitement, if that was possible.
Isabella had been right: this was much more inebriating than wine.