Page 10 of Rogue of the Greenwood
Drat. That wasn’t very resourceful at all. How on earth did she expect seeing a simple bird—in a forest, no less—to distract the man? Her brain raced to come up with something better.
“There are many birds here in Sherwood,” he said and turned his sly glances back onto her. “None of them sing nearly as sweetly as you, though, Miss Maidland.”
Drat and drat!Things were getting worse. She’d gone and supplied him with material for boldface flattery. She must think of something to get his mind off of this.
“But I saw a very young bird!” she exclaimed quickly. “I tiny bird. A hatchling! It fell from its nest, poor little thing. We’ve got to help it. Please, Mr. Gisborn, you must go and do something.”
“I must?”
“But who else?”
“I know nothing of birds, Miss Maidland.”
“But surely you can help the poor thing… for me, at least?”
She may not have been skilled in fabricating a very good excuse to get him out of the carriage, but she certainly knew how to flutter her eyelashes and pout. Her stepmother had been an expert at such manipulations. Marianne had never expected to stoop to such tactics, but the moment seemed dire enough. She batted and blinked and let her lower lip tremble just the tiniest bit.
“Oh, very well. I will rescue the bird.”
And as simple as that, he left her. He climbed out of the carriage and started into the brush. She tried to maintain her expression and not show too much sense of victory.
“Over that way!” she directed. “A bit farther into the forest… yes, a few more steps to your left. No, maybe it was to your right. Beyond that tree, I believe.”
“Which tree, Miss Maidland?”
“Er, that one. The thick one with all the leaves on it.”
He grumbled as shrubs nicked at his coat. “This one, my dear?”
“No, that one… with the branches.”
“It is a forest, Miss Maidland. All the trees have branches and leaves on them.”
She continued guiding him toward her fictional baby bird and he continued to comply. But of course he was not finding anything. Soon he would simply give up and come back to the carriage. She’d be alone with him once more and he would be free to propose.
This silly distraction had gained her nothing at all. She needed something more drastic—something that would give him reason to forget proposing altogether. Perhaps she might swoon? No, that would put her in an even more vulnerable position.
What on earth could she do? If she completely alienated him then perhaps he would turn Mr. Reeve against Meg—the two men did seem quite devoted to each other. How could she put him off without interrupting their regular outings? Meg deserved some hope for happiness, even if it was with Mr. Reeve.
Obviously, Marianne would do the only thing she could do. Surely if she exposed herself to some horrible trauma Mr. Gisborn wouldn’t force a proposal on her, but he could hardly be upset with her, either. There seemed only one solution.
Clearly what Marianne needed just now was a terrifying run-away carriage.
It was a rash, hasty plan, but of course she didn’t pause to rethink it. One quick, subtle slap with the reins and the quiet horses were jolted out of resting and into sudden movement. Young and healthy, they responded with even more vigor than she hoped.
“Help! Help!” Marianne cried as the carriage lurched forward.
Her shrill voice panicked the horses and they stepped up their pace. She gave them ample rein, bouncing in her seat and flailing her arms for good measure. It all added to their fright and they very nearly broke into full gallop, storming down the roadway and leaving Mr. Gisborn to call out helplessly from behind.
The pace was invigorating, and Marianne urged them on. The forest closed in and they rounded a bend. Mr. Gisborn was nearly out of earshot now, but Marianne kept up her desperate cries for help, just to continue the illusion. The horses ran on, deeper into the woods.
Of course she wouldn’t let them run forever. This was merely to buy her some time—time to breathe a bit and appear too upset to hear that fateful question. Surely once she stopped the horses and Mr. Gisborn did find them again, he would think nothing if she claimed a nervous disorder and demanded to be taken home straightaway. It might even take days before shewas ready for visitors. By then, who knew? Perhaps Mr. Reeve would be safely in love with Meg andhiswould be the accepted proposal.
That was too far ahead to accurately predict. For now, all she knew was that she had succeeded in thwarting any proposal from Mr. Gisborn today. That was what mattered.
She would simply drive the horses for another half mile, or so, before—
A man suddenly fell out of the trees! No, it was more likely that he jumped. He leaped down, onto the horses, grasping at their harness and thrashing around until somehow, he ended up between them, barely staying upright. His feet danced over the dusty road as he struggled to keep pace with the horses, pulling at the straps and somehow managing to stay atop and not trampled to death.
