Lady Thief (18 page)

“Aye, we did tha’, but found no trace of the
horses.
The old swine would not let us search the home, or even
allow us to warm up and rest anywhere.”

William nodded, his expression grave.

Marianne clasped his arm.
“What are ye
thinking, milord?”

He spared her a glance but not much else.
“Whether your father sought shelter with Ferdinand or not, his
unwillingness to allow my men into his new home suggests that he
has something to hide.
Whether ‘tis your father or something else,
I do not know.”

Bryce spoke into William’s ear, so quietly
that Marianne could not hear what had been said.
The warrior lord
had returned to continue with his and William’s swordplay earlier
that morn, and now appeared to be helping William handle his new
dilemma.

William nodded to whatever Bryce said before
addressing the men huddling around the fire.
“Allow your men to sit
here in the great hall to warm yourselves.
Bread and ale will be
brought to you for your fine work.”

Blaise muttered, his arms folded tightly to
his chest.
“They did no fine work.”

The old knight bowed, ignoring his younger
master.
“Thank you, milord.” He was the last to find a seat after
the other men shuffled for a good spot by the fire, weary of their
travel.

Only a handful of men were present, but the
expressions on their faces suggested they had ridden into the night
after her father.
The exhaustion they suffered from their efforts
was no doubt doubled when they did not find him.

When James left her to speak with the older
knight, Marianne used the opportunity to follow her husband out of
the great hall to have a word with him.
Olma trailed along, casting
glances back at James as they left.

“Ye need to be stricter with yer training,”
She could hear Bryce before she caught up to them.
“I’ve never seen
men so lazy and unguarded before.”

William sighed.
“Ye are correct.
I have known
it for some time, I have simply never had the heart to have
anything done about it.
But today ‘tis not entirely laziness, they
rode hard in the cold searching for Holton.”

Blaise’s mocking voice in her ear caused her
to jump.
“Spying does not become you, milady.”

Marianne stiffened before resigning herself
to turn and face him.
She wished she had not when his sneering face
met hers.

She cast a quick glance behind her, hoping
that she would not have to face Blaise alone.
The stone hallway
stood bare, only the torches to provide light and very little
warmth to give her comfort.

William must have been so caught up with his
conversation with Bryce that he had not heard Blaise or Marianne
behind them.
Now they were out of sight, and unable to save
Marianne.

She took a calming breath, willing herself to
feel no blind emotion, no boiling anger, and looked Blaise in the
eye.

When Olma made her presence known and stood
behind her lady, glee filled her chest.
A witness would surely
prevent Marianne from losing her temper.

She straightened herself.
‘Twas one thing to
be the lady of the castle for the servants, but now she would have
to show Blaise that as well.
“I am no spy.”

His gaze remained as calm as hers, though as
spiteful as ever, as if he was trying to match her civility with a
barely disguised distaste.

He rested one arm over the other and
scratched his cheek.
“An old maid like you may have fooled my
father, but I do not believe for one moment that you did not aid
your thieving bastard sire.”

Rage hissed wildly within her.
Marianne
forgot about Olma and holding her temper.
“And I do not believe for
one moment that you are of William’s blood.”

Marianne felt her face run cold when the
words escaped her lips.
Blaise stood in front of her, pale and
open-mouthed before his cheeks turned redder than what she thought
was normal, even for him.
The freckles disappeared on his face as
it twisted into unrecognizable fury.

When he raised his hand, she stood helpless,
waiting for the blow to come.
But his palm shook in the air and
Marianne breathed deeply, counting the seconds while trying to
decide whether he despised her enough to do it.

She exhaled shakily when he forcefully
lowered his arm.
He stared down at her and again Marianne awaited
her punishment.
A slap, an insult, anything was better than
waiting.

Instead he clenched both fists, held them
firmly at his sides, then gave her his back and stalked in the
other direction.

She watched him go, his hard footsteps
echoing in the empty hall.
She only realized when he was gone that
Olma was clutching the sleeves of Marianne’s gown like a frightened
child.

Marianne looked down at her.
She had never
seen a face so devoid of color.
She put her arm around Olma’s
shoulder, putting their differences in station behind her long
enough to offer the younger girl some comfort.

“Do not shake so, there is nothing to
fear.”

Olma shook her head, then, for the first
time, looked Marianne in the eyes without needing to be prompted
into doing so.
“‘Tis the first time I ‘ave ever heard anyone say
such a thing aloud.”

Marianne opened her mouth to tell her that
‘twould also be the last time, but looking up and behind her young
servant, she spotted Adam.

He said nothing, merely stood and watched her
comfort a woman below her, no question or judgment in his eyes.

When had he arrived?
Was his presence the
only reason she had not felt Blaise’s anger through the palm of his
hand?

She shook her head.
No, he was not the
reason.
Blaise’s furious eyes had remained on her, not glimpsing
behind her or in any other direction.
The only reason she did not
have a bruise on her face was that Blaise was more skilled at
controlling himself than she was.
If only by a little.

Adam approached both of them, nodding
respectfully to Marianne after briefly gazing at Olma, who looked
at the floor.

His tone of voice, while soft, contained a no
hint of the submissive nature most servants spoke with, that many
of the servants in the castle had begun speaking with again once
Marianne got through to them.
He spoke as her equal.
He meant his
words.
“With all due respect, ‘tis not wise to ask such questions
of the young lord, milady.
‘Tis not only Blaise you insult.”

The other people she had insulted with her
brash claim came to mind.
Truthfully, had she thought of them
first, Marianne would not have said what she said.
“I meant no harm
to William…or Blaise,” the last name reluctantly left her lips.

Still, what had once been mere idle curiosity
had turned into something so much larger.
It would not be
ignored.

She was right, Blaise was not William’s son,
and she looked back to where Blaise had retreated and voiced
herself.
“My assumption is correct, I know it is.”

Adam’s body tensed and Marianne immediately
became aware of his position in the castle.
“William trusts you
more than any other servant here, you must know why he allows
Blaise to stay.”

Olma whimpered.

“Blaise is his son, that’s reason enough for
most, milady.” He spoke uneasily, no sarcasm in his voice, only
panic as he searched for a way to escape.

She tried to make light of the situation,
certainly ‘twas only a poor subject because the silence of so many
people made it so.

Hands on her hips, she demanded her answers.
“Why is this such a secret?
I have known since the first time I
laid my eyes upon Blaise and Robert together that Robert sired him.
Why will no one speak it aloud?”

Marianne looked at Olma for an answer when
Adam did not, all traces of equality gone from him with her prying
questions.
Olma remained useless with her head down.

“Perhaps that is a question for your husband,
milady.” Adam seemed to have produced the words without thinking.
His brows shot up with the foolishness of his words the second he
said them.
He lifted his hands and waved them, as though waving her
away from the idea.
“Nay, milady, do not ask him, he would be
displeased.”

“
I
am displeased.” Marianne thought
back to the letter Blaise wrote her, the one denying her the chance
to wed him after he had discovered her age, and through some source
of information in which she was not aware, of her father’s gambling
debts.

A shriveled old hag.
He had called her a
shriveled old hag who could never possibly give birth to anything
but a shriveled old infant.

The spoiled swine.
He wrote the letter and
sent it off with no regard to her feelings.
He was not so young
himself, eighteen already and still not wed.

Marianne knew that she should have been wed
years earlier, but three and twenty hardly left her old and
shriveled.

And now it seemed that he might not even be
the prize he valued himself to be.
Marianne wanted to know why.

Adam could see the fire building in her eyes.
“Please, milady, do not press the matter.”

Marianne watched him struggle with the idea
of betraying the trust of his lord, or giving in to the demands of
his lady.

Reluctantly, she took pity on him, offering
him a smile just to ease his nerves.
“Very well, I will not ask
anymore questions of you.”

Adam deflated as he sighed.
“Thank you,
milady.”

“I am sorry to have caused you any worry,
your loyalty to William deserves more respect than that.” She
shooed him away.
“Off you go, finish whatever it was you were doing
and have no worry for me.”

He left quickly, and Marianne turned her
attention to Olma, who still tried valiantly to not meet her eyes
since being by Marianne’s side for so long she recognized when
Marianne was playing tricks.

Marianne stood and observed her for a moment,
stroking her chin.
“I supposed you would not know anything more
than gossip.”

Olma did not look at her, but the relieved
smile on her face was evident when she shook her head.
“Nay milady,
and even then, I know not much gossip at all.

Marianne sighed.
“I suppose I am to believe
you, shy little thing that you are.
If I am to receive any answers
I will have to ask Robert for them.”

***

William walked leisurely beside Bryce,
waiting patiently as the man contemplated William’s current dilemma
along with the true nature of his marriage.

William could not contain it any longer, he
needed advice and in order to get it he would have to trust that
his friend would not betray him and pass around the information
that his wife had kidnapped him so that they could wed.

After much chin scratching, thoughtful
grunting and nodding, Bryce deemed himself ready to speak.
“Fiery
spirit, but I never would o’ guessed she would be capable of such a
stunt.
I’ve heard of such things happening before Henry’s time, but
the kidnappings were always performed by the men seeking rich
brides.
When Nicholas arrives yer going to have to ask him how to
deal with her.”

Despite the lack of a true answer, William
smirked.
“She was brave enough to attempt the kidnapping, but
hardly capable of efficiency, the way she blundered it as she did.
I can handle her well enough on my own without his advice, when he
finally brings his lazy hide out of bed and gets here.”

They continued walking past the courtyard and
paying no mind to the men and servants they passed.
After some
moments of silent contemplation, Bryce asked William delicately,
“Do ye suspect she aided her father in the theft?”

William shook his head.
“Nay, I cannot
believe she is capable of deceit.”

“That is what ye said about Alice.”

William retorted quickly.
“Alice’s burdens
were brought on by my own foolishness.”

“Aye, but ye saw Bertha long after Alice
found her comfort in Robert.”

William grit his teeth at the memory of his
wife’s betrayal.
“‘Tis true, but I will say it again, ‘twas not
entirely her fault.
Marianne is not as easily swayed as Alice.”