Page 67 of Rogue of the Greenwood
Now she dipped her head and wouldn’t meet his eyes. “Perhaps he did, sir. I’m afraid I rather stole these clothes from your hunting box. I knew the costume spoke of Robin Hood, and I was afraid that if someone found you hiding there, and then found these clothes there, they might think that…”
“That I was the nefarious Robin Hood,” he finished for her. “And out of concern for my well-being, you stole the clothes and donned them yourself to romp about as Robin Hood in my place.”
“It does sound rather silly when you say it.”
“Yes, it does.”
“And I suppose I look rather silly wearing them,” she sighed.
He lifted her chin to look into her eyes once again. “No, you look positively fetching. Much more so than my dear, bedlamite grandfather did, I must say!”
“Did he truly wear these?”
“Not nearly as well as you do.”
“I only hope it was enough to convince Mr. Gisborn and the sheriff that Robin Hood was here and not… wherever you actually were. What is it you were doing that you needed Mr. Fraytuck to play-act this Robin Hood scheme? It seems quite unfair to involve that good man in such deception.”
“You accusemeof deception? Ah, but Miss Maidland, you never cease to amuse. How, exactly, didyourinvolvement with the good vicar not include deception?”
Her chin jutted out and she huffed in defiance. “I only did what I had to do becauseyouhad already begun something that would have surely put you in gaol!”
“And for that I thank you. I can, in fact, inform you that your actions most certainly prevented me from entering that gaol. I only hope, though, that my friends were able to make an appearance there.”
“What? Youwantthem to go to gaol?”
“That’s where we were all headed until I heard that some would-be Robin Hood was causing a stir at the church. I left my men to carry on, and I came to discover you in my grandfather’s hosen.”
“Why on earth were you going to gaol?”
“To break out a good man, of course. But come along. You are still shaking and I fear you’ll catch theague. I’ve got the lock open so we should be on our way.”
She hesitated, peering past him into the dark passage beyond. “Perhaps… if we will be finding our way out of here, then I should put on more appropriate clothing. It would not do to emerge into public dressed this way.”
“Indeed not,” he agreed, then added with an appreciative glance at the nicely displayed form of her shapely legs. “Although I must admit I have enjoyed this inappropriate clothing in private.”
She was very close to him. The flickering light that hung on the wall cast a golden glow over her creamy skin. Her eyes were bright with firelight. He touched her face, trailed a finger over her cheek and down along the graceful curve of her neck. She could have been dressed in fine diamonds and silk, still he would have thought her no more beautiful than she appeared before him just now.
“You took quite a risk today,” he said when it appeared she was at a loss for words.
“Did I?” she asked breathlessly.
“Indeed! You called yourself Robin Hood; you drew your bow on the sheriff and his men; you invited a vicar to bear false witness for you; and then you followed me down into this place. All quite risky behavior.”
“There is no risk in following you,” she assured him. “If I did not trust you, I would never have come.”
Now he found himself at a loss for words. She gazed up and him and her eyes confirmed what she said. Despite the odd circumstances surrounding their situation—the quirks of their acquaintance—she trusted him. Even as he had been so eager to regainhis home and bring justice to those who sought his demise, he realized that he cherished her trust over anything else now. It took every ounce of control that he possessed not to wrap her into his arms and kiss her senseless.
“Er… thank you, Miss Maidland. Perhaps I will just… I’ll move out into the larger passage while you do whatever it is you will do to change your appearance.”
He did so quickly. The way his arms ached to hold her, it would not be wise to continue in such close proximity. Standing a mere three yards away, however, felt perilously close. He could hear her movements, the sound of fabric rustling and brushing over her form. He was in near darkness, yet he closed his eyes anyway. It did not help. As he discovered, his imagination was quite capable of producing images to correspond with the sounds of her actions.
“Mr. Locksley?” she called after a few minutes.
“Yes, I’m here.”
“Could you… would you help me? It seems I’ve hit rather a snag.”
He swallowed back his terror—and his elation. She needed help dressing? By all means, he was more than willing to give aid.
