“And so in return, you now help the people of Hood’s Bay.”

“Oui. I will leave England—Lord Thorne has devised a way—but first, I must repay the village by helping them against Norrington.”

“Who has a warrant on your head as well.”

“Yes, it seems now I have properly earned my criminal reputation.”

“Yet they do not believe you are Robin Hood of the Bay. Even when you claim the title.”

“Which is to my advantage. I can tell the truth and still not be believed because, clearly, a man of my color cannot act of his own volition.”

“That must be frustrating,” I say. “Even if it aids your cause for them to not believe you.”

“True enough. My only concern is that they may decide an innocent man or woman is the real Robin Hood.”

I shake my head. “Not a woman. It would be the same if I were Robin Hood of the Bay.” I add quickly, “Which is not to equate our situations. I only mean that women can also get away with much mischief that no one presumes them capable of.”

“Also true, and while I appreciate that you do not fully equate our situations, there are similarities, and so I take no offense at a comparison.”

He pauses by a spring and unhooks a cup from the mare’s saddle. I slide to the ground. While the mare drinks, he fills the cup. When he tries to hand me the cup, I wave for him to drink first.

“You deny me my small acts of chivalry? Whatever would my mother say?”

“She would credit you for the attempt, which is what truly counts. I am very fond of chivalry in theory, but in practice, I fear it too often casts women in the role of weaker. Which I know you did not intend.”

“I did not, but I understand your position, and my mother would credit you with that, so we both remain in her good graces. And your mother? Is she distant?” He lifts his gaze from the cup. “See how skillfully I slid that in? Nudging conversation to your own secret past?”

“Well done, sir. However, I do believe we have talked quite enough.”

“About me. Now it is time—”

At a sound behind us, we both turn sharply, only to see a brace of game birds take flight.

Nicolas sighs as he passes me the water. “And that is a reminder that, however much I wish to know more about you, we ought to be on our way. My cave is nearby.”

“Cave?”

His eyes twinkle. “I hope you did not expect a grand manor. I am a fugitive after all.”

I drink quickly, and he takes the cup when I have finished, and we are off.

7

“Before we reach the cave,” Nicolas says, “I ought to make a stop in case my associate has left a message for me. It is not far from our destination.”

I want to ask whether this is the same “associate” he was supposed to meet yesterday, the one I fear betrayed him. From his wording, I suspect it is, and I tense before reminding myself this is not an argument I can pursue.