Page 42 of Rogue of the Greenwood
She raised her eyes to meet his again.
“Is it safe to go out now?” she asked softly.
“If that is what you want,” he replied.
“I… suppose we ought to,” she said.
He was thrilled when she didn’t pull away. Since when did holding Marianne Maidland become the most important thing in his life? He was half tempted to wrap his other arm around her, bring her more tightly to him.
Then he remembered she was armed. Perhaps it was best to remain as they were. For now.
“Er… I suppose you are curious what they were looking for,” she said, halfway between question and statement.
“They were hunting your cousin, obviously.”
She blinked up at him, clearly surprised that he should have pieced it all together so easily. In fact, he was surprised that he hadn’t, until now. It made perfect sense to him. Miss St. John had run off, and Marianne had come looking for her. She’d probably followed Meg to the mill, and then stole the mule to keep up. He should have figured it out as soon as he recognized her.
As usual with Marianne Maidland, though, things rarely made sense right away.
“I suppose that much was obvious by their words,” she said, chewing her plump pink lip again.
“And I suppose you’re eager to go back to searching for her, too,” he suggested.
But she shook her head. Her dilapidated bonnet nearly fell off. “I lost her trail. I don’t know where else to look!”
“Then perhaps I can help. Was she traveling with a certain young miller, tucked away in a wagonload of flour?”
Her eyes grew huge and a smile took the place of her forlorn pout. “She was! You know where I can find her?”
“I do,” he replied, happy to be the one to put such joy and relief on her face. “Come along.”
Clarence had been rubbing his nose against the sagging blanket. Now he bit it, pulling it down from the trees. He seemed remarkably pleased with himself and he shook the blanket in triumph.
“Good thing he didn’t do that a few minutes ago,” Marianne noted.
“Clarence always has been an exceptionally good mule. Remind me to tell you about the time we rode him to the orchard behind Greenwood Manor.”
“You and Mr. Muchleigh?”
“Yes,” he replied as Clarence tossed the blanket to the ground then stepped on it for good measure. “We were just lads at the time and those apples weren’t any more ripe than we were.”
“Oh dear, you didn’t eat very many did you?”
“Bushels, as I recall. We were so ill we could not even go home! But Clarence saved us. He wandered back to the mill and strolled right into the place. Much’s father knew something was wrong and Clarence led him directly back to us. Got scolded for stealing those apples, we did, but we didn’t mind. If not for Clarence, we probably would have laid out in that orchard all day and all night.”
She laughed. He laughed with her, then they quickly schooled themselves to keep their voices low. It was good to be on friendly terms with her again. She hadn’t aimed a weapon at him all day. Despite her propensity for getting into dangerous situations, he was finding Marianne Maidland was quite an enjoyable person.
Clarence plodded along obediently as Robert lead him along. Now that he’d identified the Grover’scamp, he knew where they were in relation to the hunting box. The sheriff’s men had gone off in the opposite direction, so Robert felt somewhat safer. They could follow the river until they came to the place where the stream flowed into it, and from there they could follow the stream upward. That would take them directly to his current dwelling place.
And then he would have to decide what to do with Miss Maidland. She and her cousin lived in the very house with his worst enemy. Now they knew where he and all of the people who counted on him were hiding. Did he dare send either of them back?
He had better make up his mind now. He was beginning to realize a significant problem of a rather unexpected personal nature. The more time he spent with Marianne Maidland—enjoying her laughter and swimming in the depths of her eyes—the more he found himself wanting to keep her.
Marianne tried not to be so very aware of the formidable man beside her. This was just Robert Locksley, after all. He was the same infuriating boy who would never be roused, never show a spark of fire no matter how much she’d needled him. But now… now she worried there was far too much spark.
He’d held her very tightly as they’d hidden in that hollow oak. She tried to tell herself it was out of necessity, to be sure they weren’t seen. Her pounding heart, however, kept trying to believe there’d been more to it than that.
How could she let herself take such flights of fancy? Meg had run off, they were stranded here inthe woods—in drizzling rain—and Robert was still considered dead. Her mind should be fully occupied with sorting out all the various difficulties they faced, not dallying with thoughts of being pressed up against the man who would be Robin Hood!
