Lady of Locksley: My Lady Robin Hood, #1

By Aron Lewes

When the girl of his dreams is captured by the Sheriff of Nottingham's deputies, Will Scarlet desperately wants to save the day. But he fails. Utterly. 

Will is rescued by a mysterious man named "Little John," who urges him to get a closer look at his face. Little John is actually Will's absent Aunt Josephine, who is now living as a man. 

Little John introduces Will to Robin of Locksley, the half-Saracen daughter of the deceased Earl of Locksley. Will is smitten with her, but he knows the beauty would never be interested in him. 

The trio saves a young man named Much, who was once Robin's servant. Much the "Milliner's Son" is a bit of an oddball and spends his days making hats. Much is obsessed with hats. Hats are his life. 

Together, they take on a pompous Sheriff of Nottingham... who seems to be wrestling with an unwanted attraction to the lady rogue. 

Lady of Locksley is a Robin Hood retelling with a dash of romance, featuring a diverse cast of characters.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Aron Lewes
• Release date: May 4, 2018
• ISBN: 9781386281177

Book preview

Chapter One

WELL, IT'S DONE! WILL Scarlet announced as he turned the chair upright. For several hours, he sawed, sanded and pounded the pieces together. His body ached, his forehead was slick with sweat, and his fingers were a garden of splinters, but he was pleased with the finished product. What do you think?

Ophelia's answer surprised him. It's... ugly.

"Really? Will's nose puckered as he studied the chair he constructed for her. He gave it a light kick, testing its sturdiness. It seems functional, though."

"It might be functional, but it's ugly, Ophelia complained as she tossed her curly brown locks over her shoulder. I don't want an ugly chair in my house, Will. And I'm not going to take it off your hands to make you feel better."

Will's lips flipped into a frown as he observed his disappointing creation. Is there anything I can do to make it more appealing?

No... unless you believe in miracles. Ophelia chuckled at her answer. At this point, if you want to make a decent chair, you'll have to start over.

But I don't have the supplies. I'll have to come back tomorrow.

Very well. Ophelia sighed heavily, as if the prospect of Will's return was utterly exhausting. Can I get another favor before you leave?

Will's answer was an obvious, "Certainly!" Ophelia was easily the loveliest woman in the village of Kimbley. Like most men, Will was enslaved by her beauty. He longed to run his fingers through her lustrous mahogany tresses. He was dying to kiss her heart-shaped, plum-colored lips. She was a few years older than him, which he preferred. He always wanted an older woman—not that he had a chance with her.

Take this, Will. Ophelia shoved a dusty bucket in front of the smitten lad's nose. Go down to the well and fill it up for me. Alright?

Of course. Will accepted his task with a tremulous smile. Is there anything else you need?

No. Not really. When Ophelia sank into Will's chair, her brow creased. As he exited her cottage with the bucket, he could hear her muttering behind him, Actually, this chair's not that comfortable either. That's a disappointment, innit? I guess I'll have to get one of the other boys to make one for me...

Will's shoulders collapsed as he shuffled to the village well. He hoped his carpentry would impress the woman of his dreams, but it had the opposite effect. What was he going to do now? He was a man of few talents. Building chairs and swinging swords were his only special skills. And they weren't that special.

Will's feet dragged along the cobbled road. The path to the well was lined with thatched cottages and bleating livestock. A pair of goats raced in front of him, almost making him stumble. He tipped his hat to a smiling old woman, who hummed a merry tune as she dunked her husband's holey breeches into a sudsy wash basin.

When he reached the well, Will sneered at Ophelia's old bucket. Judging from how filthy it was, the bucket was sorely out of use. As he swabbed the dust from its rim, he checked it for holes. Fortunately, he didn't see any. Like his chair, the bucket was ugly but functional.

Will reached into the bucket's depths, scattering the dust bunnies that cowered in its creases. When it was clean enough, he attached it to the well's hook. "It's so dirty. I wouldn't drink water out of this if she paid me to..." Will mumbled as he lowered the bucket.

It was a lie, of course. If Ophelia asked him to, he would have scrubbed the bucket with his tongue, and he probably would have done it with a smile.

The bucket hit the well's bottom with an impressive splash. When it was full, he pulled it back up and hoisted the heavy bucket into his arms. Before returning to Ophelia's cottage, he checked his reflection on the water's surface. His hair was like sunshine—golden blonde with a tinge of red. His lips were full, his skin was pink, and his eyes resembled a puppy's. Will was secretly a fan of his face, but he tried to keep his vanity to himself.

Well then, off we go! exclaimed Will, who grumbled a quiet curse as he hauled the massive bucket to its expectant owner.

When he burst into her cottage, Ophelia was twisting her hair into a messy plait. With a frustrated roll of her azure eyes, she roared, What took you so long?

Huh? Will was puzzled by the question. He certainly hadn't dawdled. Did it take a long time?

Um... yes! Ophelia yanked the bucket from his curled fingers and deposited it on a nearby table. But thanks anyway, I suppose.

Ophelia, do you think we—

"Oh! Will! Ophelia suddenly shrilled his name. I was wondering if you could do one more thing for me. It's just a tiny favor."

Of course. I'll do anything. Will winced at his subservience.

I need you to peel those carrots for me. She pointed at a table, where a half-dozen slender vegetables had been assembled. My hands are sore, or I'd do it myself.

Why are your hands sore? Her sneer told him she was vexed by the question, so he quickly changed the subject. Whatever. It doesn't matter. I'm happy to help! Will rolled up the puffy sleeves of his white tunic as he stepped up to the table, ready to tackle the task.

Before he could peel a single carrot, there was a frantic knock on Ophelia's front door.

"Miss Ophelia! cried a prepubescent male voice. Miss Ophelia, I need to speak to you! It's urgent!"

Come in, Thomas, Ophelia answered with a yawn. "But please check your boots before you enter. I don't want you tracking in mud again! When Thomas raced into the cottage and a large clump flew from his sole, the beauty rolled her eyes. Oh well, at least I tried," she whispered and sighed.

Miss Ophelia, your granddad is under attack! Thomas blurted the news.

What? Under attack? By who? Ophelia asked. Rising from Will's chair, she hurried to the nearest window and peered outside. The cobbled road was empty, daffodils swayed in the breeze, and a scruffy mutt ambled alongside a butterfly. Nothing about the idyllic scene suggested a nearby incursion.

One of the sheriff's men is attacking 'im! exclaimed Thomas, who was still a bit breathless after his sprint to Ophelia's cottage. It's Guy Bewley, I believe.

Guy Bewley? Ophelia shrugged as she repeated the name. I don't think I've heard of him.

I'm surprised you haven't. He's ruthless. He's the cruelest of the lot, or so I've heard, Thomas told her. He's takin' all your grandda's things! And you can't doubt it 'cuz I saw it with my own eyes! He took a necklace. He took a pair of old boots. He even took your grandmum's favorite blanket right off 'er lap! Then he pushed his way into Argus' coop and started stealin' the chickens too!

Really? Ophelia raised an incredulous brow.

"Yes. Really!" the boy insisted.

Well, if that's the case, we should probably do something about it. She turned to Will, who was in the middle of peeling carrots. Will, what do you think?

Uhhh... Will's fingers curled around the carrot in his hand. "I don't know. I'm not sure there's anything we can do."

Will Scarlet's here? Thomas' brown eyes were suddenly large and bright. "I know! Will can take 'em on and drive 'em out! He's the best swordsman in town, inn't he?"

Oh, uh... Will blushed at the compliment. He was good, but he didn't like to brag. I don't know if that's a good idea. The sheriff and his men are the law around here. People have gotten arrested for standing up to them.

But Thomas is right, Will! Ophelia exclaimed. "We can't do nothing! We have to help my grandfather somehow. What if this Bewley fellow steals everything he has? Do you want my poor grandpapa to be destitute?"

Will gave his blonde hair a nervous scratch as he mumbled his answer. Uh, no. I don't want that.

"So you have to do something! Ophelia insisted. Go to them. Tell them to stand down! Honestly, if you did that, nothing would impress me more."

O... kay. Will was wincing as he put down the carrot and sidled to the door. He was imagining himself with his head lopped off. As dangerous as it was, he couldn't let her down. At the very least, he could go to Argus' farmhouse and assess the situation. I guess I can check it out. Are you two coming with me?

Of course. I'm worried about my granddad. Ophelia tossed a shawl over her shoulders as they exited the cottage. Lead the way, Thomas.

As the boy led them through the streets of  Kimbley, villagers ducked into their houses and locked their doors. They must have sensed the brewing trouble. The panicked expression on Will's face must have tipped them off.

There's the farmhouse, Will! Ophelia hissed as they rounded a bend. Thomas and I will hide behind these bushes while you inspect the situation.

Really? You're not coming? Will's fingers trembled as they clutched the hilt of his sword. He really was a decent swordsman—as long as he was hitting straw dummies. When Ophelia and Thomas didn't move from their sanctuary behind the bushes, he added with a sigh, Well... I guess I'm off, then.

Good luck, Will! Ophelia cheered for him. Don't let them hurt my grandfather, okay? I believe in you!

She believed in him?

Will doubted Ophelia's claim.

After all, he barely believed in himself.

DEPUTY GUY BEWLEY'S cronies tittered with laughter when their leader kicked the oaken cane from Argus' weathered fingers. Down on your knees, old man! Guy demanded.

But I'm seventy-four years old, sir! Argus whimpered. Without his cane, it was difficult to stand. His posture was permanently stooped.

I don't care if you're a hundred, mate. Guy seized the aging farmer's arm as he repeated his command, "Down on your knees!"

But I'll never get up again! Argus whined. A shudder scurried along his hunched back when the sheriff's thugs laughed at him.

Aww. Well... that's too bad, innit? When Guy pushed the old man to the ground, a few curious sheep wandered over to inspect the farmer's plight.

Guy was a beast of a man with broad shoulders, close-cropped brown hair and a carefully sculpted beard. His permanent scowl made him a difficult man to approach. Even when he was happy, the scowl never left his face. Swathed in leather, Guy creaked every time he moved. He smelled like a tannery.

Please don't take my sheep, sir! Argus begged as his sheep circled and swarmed him. Please! I'll do anything! We need them to survive!

I don't like when people beg. Guy dealt a kick to Argus' rump. "But I'm feeling generous, so I'll make you a deal. If you can bleat like a sheep, maybe I'll let you keep half of them."

You want me to... make sheep noises?

Precisely, Guy said. If you sound authentic, I'll even let you pick which sheep you want to keep.

Alright. Argus cleared his throat and attempted his best impression of a sheep. Baaaaa.

Is that all? Guy's head shook as he rubbed his bearded chin. I'm not impressed.

Desperate to keep his sheep, Argus tried again, "Baaaaaaaaa!"

That's a little better, but it's hardly the best I've heard. Guy glanced back at his companions, who were grinning at Argus' abuse. Their amused expressions encouraged him. I'll give you one more chance, mate. Make it count.

Argus took a deep breath and attempted his best quivering sheep's cry. BAAAAA!

Excellent! Guy applauded the elderly farmer's performance. But... it's still not good enough, so I'm taking most of the sheep. You gave it your best effort, though, so I'll let you keep three or four.

No! Argus cried as Guy and his men proceeded to herd his flock to their wagon. "N-n-no, please! I'll do anything! Don't take my sheep! Please!" Tears flooded Argus' smoke-gray eyes when he saw his favorite calf, Little Henri, hoisted into the deputy's vehicle.

When Will approached, the men were loading the sheep, one-by-one. He swaggered over with feigned confidence, lifted his chin and boldly demanded, Release Argus' sheep at once!

Guy dropped the sheep he was holding. "Oh? And who's going to stop me? You? Guy's sinewy hand moved to his weapon. What does one scrawny lad think he can do against the three of us, eh?"

I'm... Will hesitated when he saw three swords sliding from their sheaths. All three men were ready to fight him. I'm... the best swordsman in town. That's what everyone tells me.

Aww. That's adorable, Guy cooed. But I still reckon we'll carve you up. Go ahead. Take us on, boy. I'm sure you'll be a tasty snack for my dogs.

I... Even though it was a chilly day, Will could feel beads of sweat exploding all over his back. The confrontation made it difficult to breathe. I... I just don't think you should take Argus' sheep. It isn't nice.

"I'm not nice. I don't want to be nice, Guy mumbled. Niceness is for little shits like you."

You know what, boss? one of the deputy's soldiers spoke up. I think we should carve him up anyway. Just for the fun of it.

When Guy stepped forward, Will leapt backward. W-w-wait! Will stammered frantically. Wait... wait wait wait. Don't carve me up! The three soldiers were closing in on him, raising their blades in unison. If he wanted to live, he had to act quickly. So he blurted, "I'll help you load the sheep into the wagon!"

Really? Guy exploded with laughter at the thought. You know... I like that idea, boy. He roughly grabbed Will's arm and shoved him in the direction of the wagon. Get to loadin', then! We ain't got all day!

Will heaved a lengthy sigh as he scooped up one of the sheep and carried it to the soldiers'  covered wagon. I hate myself... he mumbled under his breath. I really, really hate myself right now...

Ophelia was going to hate him too.

He wasn't wrong. A few seconds later, a screaming Ophelia emerged from her hiding place in the bushes. "Will! she shrilled. Will, what are you doing? Are you helping them?"

Uhh... yeah. Will blushed as he bent down to collect his second sheep. I kinda had to.

"Why? Ophelia squealed. Her lips plummeted into a pout as she watched her failed hero tote her grandfather's sheep to the villains' equipage. Why would you do this, Will? I thought you were braver than this! My grandfather needed you!"

Will's gaze dropped to the grass as he murmured an apology. Sorry.

The boy's lookin' a bit sheepish, ain't he? Guy observed with a chuckle. "Get it? Sheepish? When neither of his companions appreciated his joke, he turned to Ophelia. What's your name, little love?"

Her eyes narrowed as she gave her answer. Ophelia.

Ophelia. You're a lovely one, Ophelia. Guy marched to her side and snaked an arm around her waist. When she tried to step away, he tightened his grip. You know what, Ophelia? I'm not that interested in sheep anymore. To hell with sheep! I think I just found something I like better. Guy's tongue flicked out to moisten his lips as he completed his thought. "You."

Chapter Two

I'M TAKING YOU WITH me, girl, Guy declared as he dragged a resistant Ophelia to his sheep-filled wagon. If you don't put up a struggle, I won't have to hurt you.

"What? Will shrieked so loudly, the nearby sheep bleated their disapproval. Stealing animals is bad enough... but you can't take people!"

"Actually, boy, I can. The panic in Ophelia's eyes inspired the deputy, who stole a wet kiss from the squirming beauty. I can do anything I want 'cause the sheriff says so, and the sheriff can do anything he wants 'cause the princess says so. Y'see how that works?"

But it's wrong! Will whimpered.

Aye. It probably is. But do I strike you as the sort of bloke who does the right thing? When he felt Ophelia kicking his shin, Guy grinned in her direction. "Did you just kick me, love? Ahhh... big mistake. I told you not to put up a struggle, remember? I'm going to have to punish you for this. Should I spank you or should I slap you? What do you think?"

Ophelia's eyelashes fluttered when Guy raised a fist. Her eyes closed, anticipating a blow that never came.

A low voice halted him. "I'd let go of her if I was you, mate."

Guy tightened his grip on Ophelia's wrist as he turned to the speaker. He was a man of average height, and even though he was somewhat slight, he carried himself like a force of nature, as if thunder flowed from his fingertips. Confidence poured from every languid motion of his body. His short brown hair, wild and unkempt, was shuffled by the slightest whisper of wind.

Who the hell are you? Guy croaked at the interloper.

There was a menacing scrape of metal as the man freed his sword from its sheath. In an eerily calm voice, he answered, I'm John.

John? Guy repeated with a snort. Just John?

Just John, the man answered with an indifferent shrug. "Although... sometimes they call me Little John."

"That's an appropriate name. You are only little. Guy's lips curled into a predatory grin. I'm going to give you one chance to change your mind, Little John. You can turn around, walk away, and we can forget you were ever here. But if you don't walk away... my men and I will take great pleasure in ripping the entrails from your body and using them for ribbons. The choice is yours."

Undaunted by the deputy's threat, John calmly stated, Oh, I'm not moving. The language of his body was the personification of a bored yawn. And you're not taking the girl.

Have it your way, then.

When Guy gave a nod to his soldiers, they simultaneously advanced on the meddler. John spun away from his first attacker and countered with a powerful swing. For a man of his size, his strikes were surprisingly powerful. As John's sword ripped into the first man's gut, an agonized scream echoed in the sky.

When the first man went down, John focused his attacks on the second soldier, who couldn't keep up with John's fluid swings. Every stroke of his sword was a combination of raw power and agility. Within seconds of crossing blades with John, Guy's soldier knew he was outmatched—but the realization came too late. John dispatched him with a clean slit to the throat.

Will Scarlet's jaw dropped as he watched the fight. He wanted to lend a hand, but he was so enthralled by Little John's skills, he couldn't move.

Well, then... Guy released Ophelia's wrist and shoved her aside. I guess you're better than I thought, Little John.

John swaggered forward, closing the distance between himself and the deputy. A smirk barely twitched his lips as he answered, I guess I am.

I, uh... Guy took a step backward as John raised his sword. I guess, I... uh...

The deputy never finished his thought. He spun around, raced to his wagon, and leapt into the driver's seat. With a terrified pant, he grabbed the horses' reins and gave them a violent flick, urging them into a speedy retreat.

But John wasn't going to let him get away that easily. He chased the covered wagon and leapt on the back of it, ignoring the sheep's bleating as he climbed. With a grunt of determination, he pulled himself on top of the vehicle, crawled across its creaky canvas roof, and dropped into the driver's seat next to Guy. As he pressed the tip of his blade against the deputy's bearded neck, he casually said, I think you should stop the wagon now, mate.

Guy grumbled a curse as he urged his horses to stop.

Good. You're doing good. If you keep obeying me like that, I won't have to kill you.