"Doesn't mean you aren't one," she reminded him, the grin obvious in her tone. "Sort of the thing here, isn't it? Or prince of thieves, which honestly, some people. Don't they know how big your head is?"
But her words were silenced when she was given all that bare skin. It had been a while, a year soon since they'd arrived here. It hadn't taken very long for her to give herself to him completely, in every way she knew. But it was still an incredible thing for her. Her husband, the man she'd wanted since she'd first understood what desire was, was all hers for the taking whenever she so chose. And she couldn't deny she loved it. She loved him.
His scars meant little to her, as far as his appearance. Nothing could mar the good looks of Robin of Locksley, not to the woman who'd fallen so desperately in love with him. Rather, they made him all the more special. A fighter, a man who'd done so much for his causes, for the people he cared so much for. She loved him that much more for each and every scar. But no, she didn't mention them, because she didn't want to upset him. Perhaps he didn't want the reminders constantly. She wasn't fond of being reminded consistently of the one on her abdomen, the one she'd earned by failing at her attempts to steal 'her' own fortune.
So she didn't mention them, though she didn't ignore them, either. They just existed. They were a part of him. Her fingers resumed their work, this time on the lightly tanned skin of the man she loved so much and cared for so deeply. And the man she desired. Yes, it was new for her to make requests such as this one. But she wasn't just learning about his wants and needs, but her own. And touching his bare skin was something she often wanted, desired, even craved. "That's a bit better, isn't it?" she said softly, her hands occasionally moving from his shoulders to rub against his chest instead.