by Rizzo Rosko
Lady Thief
Rizzo Rosko
To get back at the man who insulted and refused her, Marianne Holton kidnaps him and forces him to marry her before she's sold off to someone much more cruel.
Spirited and virginal Lady Marianne Holton seeks revenge on Lord Blaise Gray, a man she has never met, for insulting her by letter and refusing to wed her. She plans to force his hand before she is married off to Sir Ferdinand, a much older man known for his cruelty towards women. Her plan for a forced marriage goes well, but she forced the wrong man. Instead of marrying Blaise, she married his handsome, thirty-six year old father, Lord William Gray, Earl of Graystone.
To her delight the plan works, but to her horror she married the wrong man.
William, a lord who had previously given up on life, is enraged to have had his hand forced by a woman who had the audacity to not even know his true identity until it was too late, and he vows to make use of his new bride as soon as possible. However, he finds himself unable to destroy the fiery spirit that took charge of her own destiny, and makes a new vow to protect her from Ferdinand, and make her his true wife.
Lady Thief
By Rizzo Rosko
Published By Rizzo Rosko at Smashwords
Copyright 2011 Rizzo Rosko
Cover art done by Kimberly Killion at Hot Damn Designs
Medieval Romance
Visit me for more books and free reads at Rizzorosko.com
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This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this story are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Lady Thief
Rizzo Rosko
For my mother
Chapter One
Hampshire, Autumn 1311
Somewhere in the Royal Forest
Lord William Gray struggled against his kidnappers, but the hands pressing him to his knees were like iron. Ropes squeezed his wrists behind his back and the cloud of dust that wafted upward under his weight made him choke.
He did not know these men, and not one of them could match his strength individually, but together the half dozen of them held him easily. His face burned with anger.
Now more than ever he wished he’d never put his sword away those years ago and let his skills rust like they did. His laziness had put him in this position.
He struggled to calm himself and regain any dignity he could. “I am Lord Gray, I demand to know your names. Why have you abducted me?”
Had he vexed anyone recently? No one came to mind, no one who would go to these lengths for revenge, at any rate, and he could only assume they were common thieves. They were certainly not dressed as noblemen, but their shoes and breeches were in well enough condition, if a little old and faded, for them to be poor enough to resort to such actions.
They brought him to a dilapidated church. Tumbledown pews provided a home for moss and insects which were highlighted by the lit candles that barely won the battle against the dark. This was not a random act.
The men grinned, some exposing yellowing teeth, or no teeth at all, and nudged each other.
“We don’ know why the lady wants ye, but she’s paying us a wealthy sum to not ask no questions.” The smallest one of the group said. The man had overly large front teeth and smelled as if he slept with the pigs and looked very much as if he would rather be with them than in this church with William.
Despite the insult of ignoring his command for names, it took some seconds for the man’s words to sink in. Surely they made a mistake.
A lady?
William softened his voice. He would make no mention of it. He did not want to be on his knees with a gaping expression on his face with men who might murder him on a whim.
Best to flatter them. “But you do know, do you not? This lady of yours would have to have a higher than normal intelligence to hire such capable men.”
Their attack had been quick, precise, and planned. But before he was captured a tingled warning crawled up his spine. His hand had naturally wrapped around the handle of the blade he carried, but before he could pull it from its leather sheath he was ambushed and pulled from his horse and dragged to the ground while hands forced his arms to twist tightly behind his back.
His horse had bucked under the sudden onslaught of men, but a resounding smack on his rear had sent him charging into the woods.
While they busied themselves incapacitating him, he made sure to look at the exposed faces of every man in the church.
They kidnapped him without bothering to properly conceal their faces in the sunlight. Whoever this lady was, she must have been desperate to trust such people, and foolish to not take the proper precautions before carrying out her plan. Which brought him back to the question of why someone would pay for his kidnapping.
The buck-toothed one did not take kindly to having his secrets weeded out. He stood before William in an act of confident mockery, his short body towering over William’s kneeling one. “Ye’re in a house of God, milord, what do ye think she wants ye fer?”
Before William could shout an indignant reply, the doors at the front of the church burst open, bringing with it the brisk, cool wind, autumn leaves and a flash of sunlight before the doors were quickly shut again. The hope of the light did not last but the fresh air reached him and he breathed deeply, a nice exchange for the damp and stale air of the old church.
The figures that entered were cloaked and hooded, but the hunched back and the brown color of the first cloak suggested an older man, while the straight-backed, bright blue-embroidered cloak wrapped around a taller, slimmer figure hinted of someone much younger and wealthier. The hoods they wore and dim candlelight made it impossible to distinguish any features save for the delicate hands of a woman folded in the trumpet sleeves of her gown.
They were slim and fair in color, devoid of any sign of work or wear. William imagined they would be soft to the touch. They clenched and unclenched nervously as her footsteps echoed towards him. William remained on his knees and had a vague sense of the lumbering fingers on his shoulders disappearing, but he did not try to rise to greet the lady, or to escape. All he could do was stare.
So this was the mysterious lady kidnapper.
His sense of duty prompted him to bow to her, even while on his knees with his hands miserably tied behind his back, but his pride and anger allowed him to give her nothing more than a nod of acknowledgment. “My lady.”
She gave a curt curtsy in return. “My lord.”
How odd, she managed to make his title sound insulting.
She lowered her hood, and, bereft of the proper headdress, revealed a shimmering tangle of windswept red hair, so bright it commanded his attention and he nearly forgot to look at her face.
He knew he needed a clear description of the woman who planned this crime so that he could hunt her down later. Not many young maidens possessed hair that particular shade of red. Why did he not recognize her?
Her eyes, cool grey windows with flecks of blue hiding in their depths, like the morning sky fighting to emerge after a battle with a storm, flickered with confusion before they raged. “Who tied his hands? Untie him this instant!”
Her face, peppered with freckles, flared to the same color red at her hair, and the buck-toothed man untied him.
Thr
ough his gentle movements William knew that while the red-haired woman was in their company, her servents replaced their confident personalities with humble dispositions.
William rubbed the tender crater that snaked into his skin from the biting ropes. He moved to lift himself to his feet but the men pressed him back to his knees, which he was sure were building similar bruising marks.
He glared at her and noted how she said nothing in his defense this time. She looked down at him with curiosity and anxiety glinting in her eyes, hiding herself behind crossed arms.
Seemed she liked him where he was, but was as uncomfortable with the situation as her band of kidnappers. William was tired of these inexplicable clues being thrown at him but grabbed at whatever was tossed his way.
Red-haired maidens were known for their fiery spirit, but he always laughed away the notion. Women were flighty and fickle, not brazen and rash. And now it seemed as if Fate laughed back at him in the form of such a woman for dismissing the idea.
Her cold smile was awkward, as though unused to using her lips in such a manner, and it made him puzzle over her further.
“Does your seat make you uncomfortable, my lord?”
He gritted his teeth. William would ensure he returned this humiliation in full, with added interest.
“Not at all, my lady.” A shudder crept up her cloak. He smiled with pleasure at the small discomfort he was able to inflict.
She was quick to compose herself. “May I inquire as to what age you are?”
The question rocked him on his knees, but he answered her anyway. “Six and thirty, my dear, and since you find no qualm about asking my age, may I ask yours?”
By the look of her he guessed her to be just above twenty, but he could not pinpoint an exact number.
Her face reddened again, her arms tightening in their crossed position, and she looked away from him. “Nay, you may not.”
William clenched his jaw at her audacity but held his tongue in check because of their current differences in position. He held the kneeling position while hers was one of power. For now.
After silently studying him with a finger on her chin, she approached, her shoes loudly clicking in the disintegrating church. Candlelight danced on her skin. She had the air of a victorious warrior.
She stared down at him, and he stared back, unblinking and daring her to make her next move. She shocked him by offering her hand.
He took her smaller hand into his larger one, her skin soft against his rough hands, and he squeezed. She did not flinch but dug her nails into his flesh in a warning response, and he found himself secretly pleased, though he refused to soften his grip and locked his eyes with her. They were challenging and unwilling to move an inch in their silent exchange.
She broke the silence. “Well?”
He cocked his head, his expression a flicker of confusion. “Well what?”
“You are on your knees, I am here, and this is a church. You may ask me to marry you now.”
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?”
