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“Is the mattress getting to your back again?” Marian’s voice was soft and drowsy against the back of his shoulder, and Robin leaned into her soft form. They were three weeks into this marriage, and she was still a darling, but it was taking him awhile to adjust to the softness of it.
“Only a bit, darling,” he said quietly. He reached for her hand and gently squeezed it.
“Would you like to go rest in Sherwood together?”
“A lovely offer,” he said, and kissed the back of her hand. “But I must get used to luxuries and the press of a feather tick against my back.”
“Mm,” she remarked. Kissing his cheek, she led him back to the bed. “You know I would go anywhere with you.”
He knew that. She’d loved them when they were wild kits playing between jousting matches, and she’d loved him when he’d taken to the forest. She would love him when he had a horn pressed to his ear, struggling to hear what was happening around him. “And I you, my dear.”
With a feather blanket over his back and her arms around his neck, it was much easier to fall asleep. Marian had soothed him once again.