"What are you doing?" Marian demanded of the short, stocky man who was leading her new horse out of her stables. "You can't just barge in here, and steal my horse!"
"Not stealing, Your Ladyship," the man calmly informed her. "Repossessing. Come along, Rodney."
"Rodney? His name can't be Rodney!"
"Call him whatever you will. Just don't call him yours, not any longer. Rodney belongs to me, since Sir Guy can't pay."
"Enjoy the horse while you can. I have a feeling he's about to be repossessed."
Robin's smug, gloating words, accompanied by his teasing, snickering laughter came back to her now, causing her to fume. "Why do you always have to be right?" she thought, gritting her teeth.
She stood hopelessly by outside her house, watching the horse trader disappear down a bend in the lane, taking her new horse with him. Breathing out a long, disappointed sigh, she turned, reentered her home, and slowly climbed the stairs.
She had barely set foot inside her room when she was startled by an arrow streaking through her window.
Plunging into the wooden door frame, not one foot from her nose, the arrow throbbed noisily until it was still.
Marian hadn't moved a muscle, so surprised was she by the unexpected missive. For the arrow carried a message, she noticed, tied and wrapped around its shaft, just beneath its head.
"If you've come to gloat, you might at least show your face," she said, striding across her room and speaking through her open window.
But Robin was nowhere in sight.
Dying from curiosity, Marian returned to the arrow and pulled it from her door frame. "And how do you expect me to explain that hole to my father?" she asked, out loud, somehow feeling completely cheered up. "You'd better send Will to repair it. Well, let's see what gloating words you've come up with, to rub in my face."
But the message didn't contain a single word of smug, gloating satisfaction. Instead, it was a courteously worded invitation, written in very small print. Spreading it out, Marian began to read.
"My dear Marian, You are cordially invited to attend a late-night supper tonight at an undisclosed location in Sherwood Forest. Please agree to honour us with your presence. No effort will be spared to make the night one you'll always remember. I will send one of my men to fetch you just after Compline, if you will wait for him under the large oak on the western edge of your property, where you once crippled me by stomping on my foot. No doubt I had it coming. Until tonight, I remain, yours, Robin"
Disappointment over the horse was completely forgotten, and for the rest of the day, Marian found she couldn't stop smiling.
...
Marian was surprised at how nervously excited she felt, waiting under the oak tree, for one of Robin's men to appear and escort her into the forest. She hoped it would be Much, for she'd known him all her life and felt entirely comfortable in his presence. But when Will Scarlet stepped out of the nighttime shadows, she breathed a quick sigh of relief.
She'd known Will forever, too, though not as closely as she knew Much. Will would be quiet and respectful, a perfect escort, as opposed to Much, who would talk her ears off.
Marian had dressed very carefully, choosing her deep orange gown with the golden ornamentation over her bust. She wore her hair down and loose, enjoying the feel of it on her neck, glad that it had nearly grown back. She found herself having to take little running steps to keep up with Will's long strides, but it suited her to move quickly, to burn off some of the dancing excitement in her heart.
Even before they reached Robin's camp, Marian could smell the delicious odor of roasted venison. "The king won't approve, when he learns Robin's been shooting his deer," she reproved Will.
"As Lord of Locksley and Earl of Huntington, Robin has every right to kill as many deer as he pleases," Will reminded her, loyally defending his rightful lord, outlaw leader, and true friend.
"Besides," Robin said with a dazzling smile, stepping forward to welcome her, "I hardly think King Richard will object to one deer, when he hears my other crimes. Thank you for coming, Marian."
"How could I refuse such an eloquently worded invitation? How's your foot? I'd forgotten all about that time I stomped on it."
"Ah, it healed years ago. I'm sorry about your horse. I saw the man take it."
Marian watched and waited for a sign of gloating, but Robin seemed truly sincere in his sympathy.
"I didn't even have a chance to name him," she blurted out.
"Not bein' funny," the voice of Allan a Dale called out, from his place near the fire, "but I'd call him 'Lucky,' bein' mounted by you."
When Robin and Marian both shot him warning looks, he hastened to explain, "Oi! I meant because she's such a good rider!"
"Why not call him 'Here Today, Gone Tomorrow,' or better still, 'Never Trust Gisbourne?' "
Marian knew it would only be a matter of minutes before Robin had to rub it in her face. She knew she shouldn't have come. Angry, she spun around and began to walk away.
"Marian, wait!" Robin called, catching up to her. "I shouldn't have said that. I'm sorry."
"I should have known better, than to let myself be the brunt of your jokes, Robin of Locksley," she answered him, continuing to walk away as briskly as she could.
"You're not the brunt of our jokes," Allan called after her. "We already got Much for that."
"Very funny!" Much complained, sweating from being so close to the fire, basting the roasting deer.
"Marian, please, don't go," Robin begged, keeping pace with her. "I promise not to ruin the evening by saying another word about the horse, or about Gisbourne. Please, stay, Marian. It would mean so much to me, if you got to truly know my men."
He looked so appealing, so handsome in the moonlight, that she felt herself weakening.
She'd been looking forward all day to this moment, she reminded herself, barely nibbling at her supper, and he'd obviously gone to so much trouble to please her, shooting a deer, and decorating the camp with garlands of flowers.
"Very well," she agreed, smiling shyly up at him. "I'll stay."