’Twould be a simple task to put an end to it, for one of the benefits of being an outrageously charming and handsome outlaw, he’d discovered, was that the women found him dangerously fascinating. Marian had been no exception today in the woods.

And there were plenty of other beautiful women, lush and ripe for the plucking, if that was what Nottingham had a mind to do. Many of whom Robin himself had already had the pleasure of meeting. And plucking.

As the sheriff led Marian out of the hall, Robin scanned the remaining ladies for a potential replacement for the sheriff ’s interest.

Pauletta of Yarnley was comely enough, but she kissed like a fish. Of course, one could get beyond that easily if one had a mind to. Lady Elizabeth de Guildern had fairly melted in his arms when he slipped up behind her in one of the keep’s torchlit hallways last sennight. She was an eager partner, and in fact, her hands had been quite busy during their brief interlude behind a tapestry. Robin grinned at the memory and felt his cock lift in its own salutation. Lady Elizabeth would most certainly be worth another visit.

He shifted slightly, adjusting the crotch of his braies as he considered the other candidates. Joanna of Wardhamshire . . . Catherine de Meauville . . . Hie! Who was the wench?

Robin eased the slightest bit forward, risking a bit more illumination, as he peered down. He’d never seen her before. Petite with blond hair . . . mayhap it was Henriette de Hulvasen. . . .

She turned her head slightly, looking up at Roderick of Treyvern, who was much taller than she, and Robin saw her young, heart-shaped face. That was most definitely not Henriette of the knife-blade nose and abundant bosom.