They walked carefully, and Colin prayed neither of the horses would neigh and alert Claybrook’s men.
When they had walked far enough beyond the men that he didn’t think they could hear or see them, he turned toward Margaretha and she let go of his arm. “Now we can ride. I’ll boost you into the saddle.” But his palms started to sweat at the thought of grabbing her leg and tossing her up. Ridiculous. He had thought nothing of taking hold of her and tossing her into the saddle numerous times before. What was wrong with him?
She held on to the pommel of her saddle and stood waiting for the help he always gave her.
He bent and grasped her foot with one hand and her lower leg, through the fabric of her skirts, with the other and boosted her up. But he boosted her harder than he meant to — much harder than he needed to. She soared right over the saddle and cried out — a sharp little cry of alarm — and disappeared on the other side of the horse.
Margaretha landed on her arm and right shoulder in the leaves and sticks on the other side.
Oh no. She had cried out when she felt herself falling. Had Claybrook and his men heard her? Would they come and find them?
She scrambled to get up, pulling at her skirts, which were tangled around her legs. The next thing she knew, Colin grabbed her around the waist and lifted her off the ground.
“Are you hurt?” he whispered.
“No.”
His hands still on her waist, he lifted her onto the saddle. Then he mounted his own horse and they started through the trees at a slow trot. They guided the horses onto the road, and after a short canter, they broke into a gallop, the pale moon lighting their way on the deserted road.
They rode without talking, and when Margaretha began to fear the horses would be harmed by how fast they were going, Colin slowed his horse and she did the same.
“I’m sorry I fell, and that I cried out,” Margaretha said, “but you threw me over the saddle!”
“Forgive me. I did not intend to. You weren’t hurt, were you?”
“No.” Margaretha couldn’t help smiling at the chagrined look on his face. How had he made such a mistake? “What were you thinking?”
He didn’t answer. Was he angry because she was laughing at him?
Finally, he said, “It was an unpardonable mistake, especially at such a time. I am sorry.”
“I wouldn’t say it was unpardonable. I don’t think they even heard us. We were too far away, and they were still talking loudly.”
“I hope you are right.”
They rode on for what seemed like a long time. Margaretha was hungry and could barely keep her eyes open. Finally, Colin said, “We can stop here.”
They guided their horses off the road and into a thickly wooded area. While they tied their horses and prepared for sleep, Colin said, “Please forgive me for throwing you so hard. I suppose I was . . . nervous.”
“Of course I forgive you. I was not hurt. When I’m nervous, I talk too much and too fast. I also talk too much when I’m joyful, and when I’m angry — all the time, except when I’m sad. Besides, you were only trying to help me get on my horse. You mistook your own strength. But just now I am too tired to talk. And also a little sad, because I’ve started to think how much I miss my mother and my sisters, and that makes me want to sleep so I can’t think about it.” Margaretha had just lain down on her blanket, near where Colin had spread his own blanket. She closed her eyes and immediately felt herself drifting to sleep. “I didn’t let you say much, did I? It is a terrible fault of mine . . .” Her words were getting softer and becoming slurred, so she gave up on her apology and immediately fell asleep.
“You must get up, Lady Margaretha.”
She opened her eyes and saw . . . nothing. It was still dark. Then she made out a form standing near her.
“I’m sorry, but we need to go.” It was Colin. “We don’t want to risk Claybrook’s guards catching up to us today.”
Margaretha sat up, but her eyes didn’t want to open all the way. She shook out her blanket and folded it up. Colin took it from her and pressed something into her hand.
“Here is your breakfast. Some bread and cheese. I dare not start a fire, even though the bread is stale and would taste better toasted.”
“Oh, that is all right. Did you have some? Good. I am ravenous so I don’t mind the staleness.” Margaretha chewed the dry food while Colin finished packing away her blanket, then he handed her the water flask.
“It should be daylight in less than an hour,” Colin said.
In a few minutes, after Margaretha had finished her bread, they were on their horses and heading south again.
They rode at a fast pace only long enough for Margaretha to remember what she had been saying when she fell asleep the night before. And then they rounded a bend in the road and were confronted with five men and their horses blocking the road.