Page 19 of An Earl for the Archeress

He summoned another guard. “Tell the groom to saddle Goliath in full tack, and see to it a page fetches my jerkin, my full quiver, bow, sword, and two extra daggers from my solar. I’ll also need a pack well-stocked with food. I’ll be escorting ‘Elmer’ to the edge of Huntington lands.”

“This is absurd.” Mariel huffed, rolling her eyes as Robert’s soldier dashed away to relay the messages, and tossed the coin purse back. “And I’ll not take your charity.”

He tossed it back. “You’ll need someone’s charity, woman, for believe me, with your forked tongue, no one else will be offering.”

She scowled at him, irritated even more when he laughed his pleasant laugh. She sat restlessly in the saddle, her horse stomping and shifting, until his mount was finally brought forth. If she hadn’t been so anxious to leave, she would have admired his beast more. The horse, a rich chestnut-brown with a feathery mane and tail, stood to regal height, at least seventeen hands, shining in the nighttime torchlight. The stallion was perfectly sculpted for both speed and brawn.

His other effects arrived, and Robert allowed a page to help him don his jerkin, buttoning closed his vest and sliding the leather over his head. He held his arms out, and the boy worked the lacing closed down each side until it hugged Robert’s frame. Mariel realized, moments later, that she was staring. Watching him dress was intimate, not to mention the jerkin now accentuated his broadness of shoulder and narrowness of waist. His eyes glanced to hers, noticing her staring, and the corner of his mouth twitched upward. She looked away.

With his arrow, quiver, and pack of food secured to his mount and his cloak of dark green donned, he hoisted himself aloft. Magically, Mariel noted, the guards blocking her path stepped wide to allow them passage, as if Robert was Moses parting the sea. With Robert leading the way, Mariel rolled her eyes again and turned her horse to follow, trotting to catch up.

They rode in relative silence for close to an hour before entering a clearing. Moonlight bathed them both, making their expressions visible. Mariel noticed Robert’s lips quirking into a smile, then a grin. Then he shook his head, trying to suppress a laugh.

“What is of such humor?” Mariel demanded.

“Nothing,” he replied, then could not contain the laugh any longer.

“Oh, nothing, to be certain,” she remarked.

…

Her sarcasm only made him laugh again. “It’s just, you called John ‘little.’”

She cracked a smile. “I did what?”

“On the roof. Back there. You said, ‘John, little as he is.’ ’Tis humorous, for the man is at least as big as my northern bastion.” He grunted, chuckling. “‘Little John.’ Wait until he hears such a nickname.”

Her smile broadened, and then she laughed, too. Robert glanced at her, the moon illuminating her skin, her lips full, her eyes shining like silver in the darkness, and soaked it in. She was directing her smile at him. Finally. It was a superb reward.

It didn’t last, however. As silence fell between them, her brooding mood persisted. So he steered his horse up a steep incline, climbing a deer path until they reached an overlook camouflaged by trees. Robert stopped his horse and dismounted, stretched, and began to unstrap his packs from Goliath, who grunted his approval.

“What are we doing?” she demanded.

“Stopping,” he said, stating the obvious, his torso jerking with each tug on the straps. “I’ll build us a fire for the night.”

“For the night?”

Yes, she is irritated. It only made him smile. He would break the woman to his good nature if it was the last thing he did.

“How long is your personal escort going to last?”

“A full day, at least, in every direction,” Robert replied, ignoring her incredulous stare. “I would prefer to feed my stomach and rest my head, then start anew with daylight. I’ve eaten little and am tired.”

Mariel uttered a curse beneath her breath, and he did his best not to laugh at the yawn in her throat threatening to spread her mouth wide. “Just remember that I never asked you to accompany me. I’ll keep pushing onward.”

She began to turn her reins, when Robert leaped forth and grabbed the bridle. “Lady Mariel.”

Now she laughed, but it was not a merry sound. “Admit that I’m your prisoner. The farce is easily seen, for every attempt I make to leave, you hold me back.”

Robert sighed and shook his head. “You’re not my prisoner.” He threw his hands up and stepped back. “Fine. You wish to leave, so go. I’m making camp here. The forest only gets thicker, and you know not the direction we travel, but by all means, go. One of my men out patrolling will certainly find you at some point, and whilst I have made it clear my rules on molesting women, they are still more my father’s men than mine in that regard, so tread carefully. And be mindful of the descent from this camp. ’Tis rocky, and in the dark ’tis impossible to see the horse’s footing. I’ve attempted to demonstrate that I’m a gentle man.” He kicked out a heel and swung his arm across his middle in a practiced bow. “But clearly you wear too many thorns to notice any kindness. So please. Go.”

He began collecting kindling, preparing a pile in the fire ring barely visible beneath the trees’ canopy. Then he walked to a secret stash of firewood that was shielded from view beneath a camouflage of leaves and twigs. She was watching him, he noted, trying to make sense of what he was doing in the murky darkness, and he returned to the fire ring with an armload of split logs.

She shifted in the saddle. He glanced sidelong at her, her indecision evident on her face. That he had used her unfamiliarity with the forest paths against her, he knew was probably wrong, and she was clearly weighing the possibility of risking injury to her horse descending from the campsite, which was indeed on high ground.

“Fine.” She sighed, casting him a frown. “We’ll play it your way. So it will take a full day to reach the edge of your property?”

Robert smiled but didn’t show his face. “Usually. In which direction do you travel?”