Page 38 of Rogue of the Greenwood
What was it? Did she hear it, too? Yes, she was sure that she did. But it wasn’t the sound of a wagon, or the movement of horses. It was a dog, the wild barking of a dog!
Apparently, Clarence did not like dogs. He stamped at the ground with one large, muddy hoof. He shook his head and snuffed with indignance.
“Easy, fellow,” she soothed, patting him lightly.
But it was not enough. The sound of barking was grower louder. He stamped again and then nearly threw her as he leapt into motion. She had no idea the old boy could move with such speed!
He plowed forward through the branches, tearing over the ground and dodging trees like a frisky young colt. Marianne screeched out in shock and then leaned close over his neck. Reins would do nothing now, so she wrapped her arms around him and clutched tightly with her legs.
Her skirts—which were already giving her enough trouble, considering they were not at all made for this—rode up nearly to her thighs and allowed every branch, every brush, to rip at her skin. It wasn’t as if she’d found a side-saddle in that carriage house. She was sitting awkwardly astride, clinging to Clarence for dear life.
Her bow and the quiver of arrows she had slung over her back caught on leaves as they passed, the strap pulling and nearly choking her. She choked. Debris blew into her eyes and she blinked madly,struggling to see where they were headed.
What a fool she had been to do this, to come out to the forest on a strange animal! It would be a miracle if she wasn’t thrown off and trampled to death. She still believed Clarence was a gentle soul, but he had some unusual terror of dogs. There was no telling what he might do.
She could do nothing but hold on for dear life. Ah, if Robert Locksley could only see her now! He would certainly laugh. But she wasn’t laughing. This was no imaginary run-away ride, after all.
Where did that blasted dog go? Robert picked his way through the underbrush, dodging nettles and hawthorn with variable success. His coat would be snagged beyond repair after this and heaven only knew when he’d be in the position to gain himself another one.
There, he heard the barking again, off in yet another direction. That pup must still be trailing its rabbit. Too bad rabbits could go places that full-grown gentlemen couldn’t. With a sigh, Robert shoved another branch aside and plowed on through.
It would be foolish to call to the dog; it was doubtful the creature was old enough to have learned his name yet. In fact, the children couldn’t even agree on his name. Robert had heard them arguing. One boy thought Wellington would be a fitting name, while his sister insisted Rainbow would be better. Still another child demanded they all call the dog Jemima, but it turned out that was their mother’s name and she strenuously opposed sharing it with the family hound.
Obviously calling for it would be useless, and he didn’t really want to alert anyone out on the road to his presence here, anyway. A dog chasing a rabbit could be ignored, but not a man so recently returned from the dead. He tried to stay low and make as little noise as possible as he tracked the animal.
But someone else wasn’t being quite so careful. What was that ound? Something large was crashing through the forest, coming his way. It was too large to be the dog; indeed, he could still here the dog barking off in the distance. What was this coming his way? A deer, perhaps? If so, it would be the largest one ever encountered in Sherwood.
Instinct took over and he grabbed for the nearest tree branch. Swinging up into an ancient oak tree, he held himself against the trunk, peering down to see what had been bearing down on him. Through the branches he could make it out.
A rider! The horse was charging wildly through the brush and the rider was barely hanging on. But what the devil… trailing skirts, a flowing wave of tangled red hair… by God, it couldn’t be!
But it was. Once again, he’d found Marianne Maidland careering through the forest. He dropped down just in time to land in front of the horse. Thankfully, it was enough to startle the animal and he stopped dead, rearing up and tossing his rider to the ground.
Damn, but had Robert just killed Miss Maidland? It would serve her right, but still…. Dodging the panicked animal, he ran around to where she landed in a mass of nettles and shrub. Judging by the sounds she was making, she was indeed not quite killed. He breathed in relief, hoping to God she suffered no great injury.
“What on earth…! Oh, Robert Locksley… it’s you again!” she gasped, catching her breath and clearing her hair out of her face.
“Marianne! Are you well?”
He rushed to kneel beside her, but she shoved him away, pushing herself up to stand awkwardly over him. Unbelievably, she had her bow and her quiver at the ready again, if perhaps a few of the arrows did appear broken.
“Are you going to shoot me this time?” he asked, sitting flat on the muddy earth.
“I don’t know yet. What the devil did you do? The poor creature—he was already upset. Did you need to jump out and terrify him?”
She turned her back on him and pushed through the brush on her way to the horse that stood off to the side, wild-eyed and panting. Robert shook his head. What was wrong with the woman that she simply could not be bothered to thank him when he very kindly bothered to save her life? Why, that horse was huge, and he was out of control. If Robert hadn’t intervened, it would have…
“Wait… that’s not a horse,” he said, staring in disbelief. “That’s a… is thatClarence?”
“And you nearly gave the poor old thing apoplexy!” she shot back, ignoring Robert as he plucked thorns from his backside and made his way toward them.
“What are you doing out here with Clarence?”
“I needed a ride, and Clarence was handy.”
“Handy?He’s a hundred years old! Much and I used to ride him when we were children. He was already ancient then.”
“I’ll agree, it did surprise me that he could movelike that…”
