Smiling with delight, Marian bent low over her mount’s neck as they tore through the wood, safely away from the path of the boar and deeper into the shadows. She ducked and dodged as the branches raced past and over her, and buried her face into the soft coat of her horse when they came too close. By the time she turned to see if the others had followed, the sounds of the pursuit had waned into the distance. She was breathing heavily from exertion and excitement, her heart pounding. She straightened in the saddle and realized the veil had been torn from her head during the pell-mell ride, and that half the arrows had fallen from her quiver.
The sound of a triumphant horn in the distance signaled that the boar had been brought down. Marian turned her horse, starting back toward the others. She hadn’t gone far when suddenly a figure dropped from the tree, landing on the ground in front of her.
Half-expecting to see Robin, at first Marian wasn’t alarmed. But when she saw the size of the burly man, and the threatening stance he took in front of her, she reared back in her saddle, pulling on the reins again. Then another soft thud sounded behind her, and then another on either side.
Twisting in her seat, she turned to look, hoping to see Robin . . . but none of the men were familiar to her. Nor did they seem at all friendly or good-natured. In unkempt clothing and with grimy faces, they didn’t even appear to be members of Robin’s band-for yesterday the bandits who’d accompanied him had been as well clothed and clean as he.
“Co’mere, fine leuedy,” said the first man in deep, guttural English. “Wha’ ha’ ye fer our greed’ hands?” He lunged for her horse’s bridle, and Marian screamed, yanking frantically at the reins. The horse reared up and it was all she could do to clutch at her mane and pray that the saddle straps did not give way, and she did not lose her seat.
Hands pawed at her as the men moved closer to the dancing, skittish horse. The largest of them tossed a cloth over her mare’s head, covering her eyes, and immediately the horse began to settle.
Marian screamed again, belatedly remembering her bow. Struggling to hold on with only one hand and her leg curled around the pommel of her saddle, she managed to reach around and pull one of her few remaining arrows from the quiver. Stabbing at the hands reaching for her, she hauled on the reins.
Suddenly a whistle sounded through the air, and she head the faint whiz of an arrow shooting past her. One of the men near her froze, then dropped to the ground as another arrow, and then another, found their marks.
With cries of anguish, Marian’s attackers fell or ran away as Robin Hood leapt down from the branches above.
“Marian, are you hurt?” he asked as several other men emerged from the shadows. At first, she tensed, wondering whether they were his companions or other attackers. But when Robin did not turn from his concern for her, she knew they were his companions.
“I am not hurt, only startled and a bit frightened,” she replied, realizing she was shaking-yet still clutching the arrow she’d been using as a weapon. It had been a very near thing, and the revelation that those men could easily have taken her off into the deep woods, and . . . well, it did not bear thinking about.
“What were you doing so far from the hunting party?” Robin chided, looking up at her from the ground. He’d taken the reins of her horse and looped them into his hand. His eyes danced brightly and his sensual mouth curved in a mischievous smile.
Marian had her breathing under control now, and saw that Robin’s men had melted back into the forest, taking the wounded bandits with them. “The boar was coming, and we ran to get out of its way. I didn’t realize how far I’d gone.”
That was a bald lie, for Marian was honest enough with herself to admit that she’d allowed her horse to run far and long, away from the hunters, in hopes of this very thing happening: that Robin would find her. And from the expression on his face, he suspected the same.
Of course, she did not expect that she would have been set upon by a different group of outlaws in the same forest, as odd as that might be. If there hadn’t been some very real arrows shot, and some definite cries of pain and the smell of blood, Marian might even have suspected that Robin had arranged the episode so that he would have the chance to appear to rescue her.
But she didn’t care. She’d wanted to see him, wanted not only to talk with him about how she might be able to help him evade the sheriff . . . but also to kiss him again.
“You could have been hurt, or worse,” Robin said. This time, there was a note of seriousness in his voice. Before she could respond, he pulled her down from the saddle. “There are outlaws that roam these woods,” he added, his voice low in her ear as she half fell against him.
