Lady Thief (2 page)

Chapter Two

“
I beg your
pardon?” He dropped her
hand as though it burned him, his head jerked back and the
astonished look on his face was laughable, but Marianne refused to
laugh.
Marriage was a serious matter.

“You shall ask for my hand.”

Gray attempted to rise to his feet, but
Archer pushed him back to his knees, and this time Marianne could
not help the small grin on her lips.
It had been so long since she
had reason to grin and now she could not stop herself.

Her blood hummed in her veins to the tune of
her beating heart, proof that she was indeed alive.

Her father would certainly disown her, but
she hardly cared.
‘Twas either this or he would force her to marry
Sir Ferdinand, a man with one foot already in the grave.
Three and
sixty, ha!
What her father had been thinking when he arranged that
as a back up match when Gray, rather cruelly, refused her, she
hadn’t known.

Sir Ferdinand had the face of a sagging dog
with the manners to match, and an eager glint to his eyes she
couldn’t quite place whenever she was in the same room as he.

Of course, Gray’s six and thirty was not so
much younger.
When she’d asked of him, her father merely said that
Gray was a younger man.
Perhaps he’d meant younger in comparison to
himself or Sir Ferdinand—her next intended.
In fact, Gray still
looked relatively young with only a few grey hairs above his ears
to give the sandy head some distinguished color.
Tiny bird’s feet
under pale blue, untrusting eyes hinted that he had not smiled in
some time.

He was not unappealing, rather handsome
actually.
His shoulders were still broad, his chin strong, and she
could see, even as he kneeled before her, that if he stood he would
not be so tall that she would have to crane her neck to look up at
him.

Perhaps she had judged him on his age too
severely.
Aye, he was not too old to marry, she decided.

She herself had not much room for complaint
when it came to age.
She was three and twenty.
Well beyond her
youth, and according to Gray’s letter, too old for marriage.
The
cocky swine.

She would prove him wrong now.
She had to
prove him wrong because if she did not marry him, she would be sent
to that horrible old man as a wife.
The thought of sharing a bed
with him made her shiver.

“My lady,” Gray’s voice, like wonderfully
warm silk sliding over naked flesh, gave her another shiver as she
was brought back to the situation at hand.
Yet his eyes were
flashing.
He bared his teeth to her like a wild animal, fists
clenching at his sides.
Marianne’s beating heart faltered.
“Had it
not occurred to you that should you become my wife I might seek
compensation for such treatment?”

She raised her chin again, refusing to think
of what the implication of his words meant.
She was perfectly
capable of dealing with his wrath when this was over with, and she
could—would do so without complaint.
She would make amends for his
treatment here only
after
they were properly wed.
“You will
be rewarded with a suitable dowry, as well as a woman of age to
bear you children and handle the affairs of your home.
Something I
should think would suit you well.”

Gray’s eyes turned away from her, his brows
drawing together.

Marianne leaned in.
“My lord—”

His voice was strong and commanding.
“I am
thinking.”

Marianne held her breath in disbelief with
those words.
He was considering it!
Could she really be so
fortunate as to walk out of this church a bride sooner than
expected?

Even her men were looking at each other with
large eyes before their faces melted into grins.
No one expected
him to consider their offer within the hour of Marianne’s
proposal.

When he faced her again, Marianne was taken
in by the shade of his blue eyes.
Blue like the sky, and the
darkness in the middle a flying bird that was not free to roam
where it pleased, trapped in one confined space and miserable with
captivity.

Unsure of what to make of it, Marianne put it
out of her head.
She was certain she could get used to him quite
easily so long as he left her alone when not requiring his
husbandly duties.
Perhaps he would not stay angered over this
affair for long and they could build a friendship.

Marianne knew it was wishful thinking, but if
a marriage based on friendship was the highest she could aspire for
then she would snatch it.
Most marriages in her class were based on
less.

***

William considered her offer with serious
scrutiny.
With her he could have a wife again, the chance for
children and plenty of entertaining nights if she were this feisty
all the time.

He stared at her.
Not a beauty worthy of
poetry, but she was a far cry from hideous.

Her age was better suited for his son, who
was eighteen, but he assumed his title would make up for his longer
years.

Was she a widow?
Could that be why she
currently held no husband?
Or perhaps her dowry was smaller than
she would like him to believe.
Either way, he would play her little
game for now.
He relished the image of having her in his castle and
his bed to ease his boredom.

He only wished he could place her in his
memory, but if he had ever met her, she had not made an impression
then as she was doing now.

“What should happen if I were to refuse to
have you for my wife?
Surely you have thought of that.”

The hand on his shoulder squeezed, enough to
make him flinch.
William caught a flash of light beyond the corner
of his eye.
Before he could recover, the blade of a dagger pressed
against his neck.

She came to take all or naught then.

Finally, the man in the worn brown cloak
coughed, and both their attentions turned to him.
He struggled to
hold a large book in his hands.

William made his decision, one he suspected
he would live to regret.
“Very well, but on one condition,”

“What would that be?” She asked.

He hardened his eyes against her.
“I hope for
your sake that you have not offered these men any gold that would
be received from a marriage between us, because when you are my
wife, you shall only hold power that I give to you.”

She clenched her fists and bared her teeth to
him as he had done to her.

William could see it on her face how she
dearly wished to tell him what she thought of his plan.
But when
she looked above him to the men who held him, he also saw when she
changed her mind.

Curiosity piqued, William wished he knew what
these men hid that had their own lady working in their favor.

She raised her chin, commanding the authority
back unto her.
“I have a condition as well.”

He cocked his head with barely concealed
mockery.
“Do you?
Well, my lady, you have certainly not asked for
much as of yet.
Pray, what condition do you have?”

She ignored his sarcasm.
“When we are wed,
you are to forget that these men were ever here.
None are to be
harmed for what has taken place today.” She raised her arm and
pointed her hand to where they were scattered about the church so
that there would be no mistaking her.

He shrugged, but before he could respond he
felt the blade at his throat shake.

The man behind him was frightened.
No doubt
the other men were equally in fear of their lives.
As they should
be.

The only way to prevent the cold metal of
that blade from taking a fatal bite out of him was to remain calm
and in control.
He needed to believe that he did not mind the
situation he was in if it were to ring true in his voice.

“I can hardly put a man of God to death for
performing the sacred union between a man and a woman, but what of
the others?
They admitted to being here of their free will.
For
God’s sake, if you lift your chin any higher you will be staring at
Him in the heavens.”

The men behind him laughed.

William smirked.
Better to have them at ease
and laughing than contemplating their own deaths, and therefore,
murdering him to avoid that fate.

Marianne glared at all of them and lowered
her nose, though that did not hide the flush that flooded her skin
and flowed up her neck.

Her next words silenced the laughter.
“They
are family men,”

William sputtered.
“Family men?”

He turned to look at them.
They were no
longer laughing or grinning as they had been before when they
brought him here, but staring at him with concern for themselves.
Concern for their lives.

He no longer saw them as foolish thieves, but
as desperate tricksters who stunk thickly of something other than
pigs and dirt.
They reeked of fear.

William became very aware that the blade held
at his throat stung his flesh as it shook.

He was being cut.
The man behind him was in
such a fear for himself that William was having his throat slowly
cut.

William dared not move.
Dared not to speak or
even acknowledge the drop of blood that trickled down his neck.
So
much as startling the man could be the end of him.

“Archer,” Marianne said, her eyes traveling
down to the blade.
The sting of metal disappeared from his
throat.

William would not allow himself to show his
relief.

He stared into her eyes and she chewed her
bottom lip.
Even on his knees he made her uneasy.
William enjoyed
that he had some control over the situation.

He cleared his throat.
His decision was made.
“Very well, in this worn house of God I swear on my honor to forget
the faces of each of these men, and should I not forget them, I
will pretend to have no knowledge of them.” He held his hand out to
her, waiting for her to take the risk this time.
“Does that promise
suit you?”

***

Marianne waited for a few seconds just to not
seem so eager, and when she finally took his hand there was a
collective sigh in the church.
Gray smirked and rolled his eyes, as
though he had seen them behaving quite differently at one time.

Friar Mitchell shifted his aging feet.
“Are
ye prepared?”

Marianne gasped when Gray rose to his feet
without waiting for Archer’s permission or for him to remove the
blade that was so close to his skin.
Was the man insane or simply
without fear?

Marianne looked up at him and forgot about
fear entirely.
She had been right.
He was not so wretchedly tall
that she had to put her head entirely back in order to see his
face.
He stood pleasantly above her, the top of her head only
reaching his nose, another small thing that worked in his
favor.

“I am ready.
How convenient for you to plan
my abduction on a Sunday morning after mass so we will have no need
to make our confession.”

Marianne’s face heated again, but she refused
to tell him that she hadn’t considered such a thing until he
mentioned it just now.
She had chosen today because he carried the
fewest servants with him on his Sunday morning ride, making the
abduction that much easier.

Perhaps she should have put more planning
into this.

He took both of her hands into his and looked
at Friar Mitchell.
“Will she not need a wedding ring?”

“A wedding band can be acquired at a later
time should you wish to obtain it, my lord.” The friar’s demeanor
and voice held every respect entitled to a lord.

Marianne held her breath when her
soon-to-be-husband turned his eyes back to her with one brow raised
in thought.

“Nay, I do not think she shall need one.”

Her breath came out in a gasp at the insult
but she refused to allow herself to be hurt.

She came here expecting insults and temper,
she would not spare any hurt feelings just because her expectations
had been met.
Though to exact a bit of revenge she dug her nails
into his skin and relished his wince.
“Rings tend to make my
fingers itch anyway, my lord,” she said, her nose in the air
again.