by Rizzo Rosko
He took her arms and unfolded them. “Nay, this particular news came from her husband.”
Marianne opened her mouth but he cut her off.
“She told him and he told me, do not be cross with her.”
Despite his words, Marianne found it difficult not to be. “I suppose you will now tell me I am foolish.”
“Aye.”
She looked away from him, unable to let him see her own eyes lest it become apparent that they burned with moisture. Treacherous things that they were. She imagined this moment coming for weeks, and in none of her reenactments had her eyes swam so.
He gave her no choice but to look at him and lifted her chin, inspecting her dripping eyes so closely that his nose was inches from her own.
Abruptly he released her and stepped back, shaking his head and blinking at her. “You truly believe that I hold no love for you?”
The question dried her eyes. “Don’t you?”
He clasped her shoulders and gave her one hard shake. “Of course I do! I have told you as much with my actions as well as my words!”
Marianne lashed back, anger raging inside of her at his blatant lie. “Said as much? You have said how much you love Alice! Never me!”
William’s face dropped. “You can find it within yourself to be bitter over my love for my first wife?”
“No!” She turned away from him, out of his arms, circled and tried to regain what she had meant to say to him. “No.” She said again, wishing she had chosen to her words more carefully. “I am not bitter. I am glad.”
William’s arms were the ones to fold now. “Glad?”
Marianne nodded, picking at her nails for there was no other occupation for her hands, or place for her eyes to look. “Aye, glad that such a thing could be the cause for all your years of kindness, that your love for her has shaped you into the man that I love now.”
Both brows shot up. “Love?”
She nodded again, dropped her hands and looked at him, hardly able to keep herself from looking away now that her eyes were on him. “Aye.”
A lazy smile radiated his face, he stepped closer. “You love me?”
Marianne frowned. She could not tell if he was playing at her expense, but it had quickened her breath and sharpened the beating of her heart with a new hope. “Aye.”
His hands found her shoulders and rested there comfortably, as though he felt no need to shake her again. “Why have you never told me? For how long?”
An unbelievable smile lifted her cheeks. “Since the day you brought home Hawisa and Molly, but I think ‘twas sometime before that and I simply had yet to notice.”
She did notice that despite how she could see her own breath in the chilled air, she could only feel the warmth wafting from his chest that was so close to hers, and the comforting touch of his hands as they rubbed up and down her arms, traveling upward once more before resting on her shoulders and pulling tingling sensations with them, his thumbs lifting to caress her cheeks.
His voice was gentle, the smile never wavering as he sought her secrets. “But why have you never told me of this, my dear?”
The familiar endearment strengthened her courage, though she still swallowed roughly. “I had thought, at first, that ‘twould be impossible to expect you to feel the same, because of the circumstances in which you married me,”
He chuckled as though she had spoken a fond old joke.
She did not understand this but pressed on quickly. “And, I would not have you believe that I am bitter of Alice, I am not. ‘Tis just that you spoke so sweetly of her, and then told me of the acts you performed because of her,” Now she had to look away. “I…simply thought myself unable to compare.”
His eyes sparkled with the same amusement as when she reminded him of their wedding. “And how do you explain away on the night of our lovemaking, in your old home, when I confessed my love to you?”
Marianne’s bulging eyes whipped back to his, her mouth dropped. Half formed words sputtered from her mouth and died on her lips as she desperately tried to determine whether he was being truthful, or simply was the cruelest man in the land.
Finally, the heated words came. “‘Tis untrue! I would have remembered if you had said such a thing!”
“Well, remember when I say it now. I love you.”
The tirade he knew was coming immediately stopped. Marianne blinked wide disbelieving eyes at him. “What?”
He leaned closer, ensuring that his voice was clear and, this time, heard. “I said that I love you.”
She shook her head.
He cocked his head. “You do not believe me? And here I thought we had grown to trust one another.”
“But, how can you—”
“While ‘tis not the most easy of occupations, I can love you because you have brought my servants, my castle, my son, and myself to life like we have not been in so long. This place, our home, would never have known the happiness it knows now had you not been so rash and kidnapped a husband for yourself.”
She blushed at the reminder, but his words lifted her heart out of her chest. Marianne thought that it might sprout wings and fly away.
Because she enjoyed hearing him speak so endearing of her, she pressed him. “And had Blaise accepted me?”
William’s brow came together stubbornly. “I imagine the two of you would have continued to make each other miserable, spoken only when necessary, and even then only in hateful increments. And as you both have only reconciled due to my own words of wisdom with you regarding your temper, such a thing would have been impossible had you not married me.”
He looked at her pleased smile, waiting for her to speak, but she grabbed his ears and pulled his face down for a kiss instead.
William was only beginning to enjoy himself when she pushed him away, the same victorious grin on her face. “And had I married him, our hatred for each other would have naturally prevented our copulating, and I would not currently be with your child.”
William rubbed the area where his child grew lovingly, his other hand reaching around to her back and pulling her closer. “Aye. ‘Tis better for you to have forced me to wed you, and then have your own child to look forward to, than to let yourself be married to a man who would not give you any.”
He looked at her, the small joy leaving his eyes. “You truly have no memory of my claim to love?”
Marianne looked away from him, her cheeks heating. “I thought I had been dreaming.”
“Dreaming!”
She nodded. “Aye.”
He laughed, a full hearty thing that made Marianne’s heart beat faster. “And here I was coming to see you, thinking of throttling you, for claiming to Anne that I had no love for you when you had never returned my love at all.”
The smile abruptly left her face in replacement of bewildered laughter. She touched his cheeks, kissed them, his eyes, his strong jaw, and his lips.
He smiled through their chaste kiss and still did so when she released his mouth. “You wish to heal away my broken heart with your mouth?”
“I wish to apologize for my judgmental behavior. I had been so happy when I thought I dreamed your words that I never bothered to say them, to risk my heart like you had yours, only to be rewarded when I fell asleep.”
The smile would not leave his face. “You do tend to provoke me with your strange actions. ‘Tis apart of your spirit that I love, truly love, and admire.”
She rewarded him with an impish smile, he cut her off before she could speak. “I know you do it purposely. If I had gone through with my plans of making your life hell when you came here you would have only ensure that you made mine doubly hell as well.”
Her eyes widened. “You planned on seeking vengeance on me?”
“Aye.”
“Why did you not?”
He shrugged. “I had meant to, but when you leapt across the bed so dramatically like you did the need for revenge left me with the thought of how my vengeance could possibly destroy you. I could not do it.”
<
br /> She raised an eyebrow at him, a sinful smirk pressing her lips, knowing what form of revenge he would have used but needing to hear him say it. “What would you have done to me?”
His grin was lecherous, and he pulled her closer and planted kisses on her neck before whispering into her ear.
“You swine!” She shrieked, laughing and slapping his shoulders.
“I see ‘tis not a thing that would bother you much now.”
She took his hand, matching his lusty grin with one of her own. “Nay, but I think we should seek the warmth of our chamber now. ‘Tis too cold to be making love in the snow.”
He nodded, pulling her body to his for the walk back to their chamber when a thought came to him. “Blaise was correct when he called you a thief.”
Knowing better than to be insulted, she eyed him curiously. “Why say that?”
“Because you have stolen my heart.”
THE END
Watch out for Lady Deception, the sequel to Lady Thief! Coming soon to Smashwords!
A poverty stricken lady saves the life of a rich young lord and is taken in for her reward. As she melts his heart, and finds her own melting in return, she becomes more and more determined to hide the fact that she was the one who attempted to kill him.
Warning: The following three chapters are subject to change in the final edit.
Chapter One
Hampshire
Summer, 1318
Elizabeth attempted to halt her rushing feet, slid in the muck, and tripped over them instead. Her body fell flat in the mud which splashed up her gown, caking her legs, chest, and face in the sludge that horses tread and shit on.
She struggled to lift herself out of the clinging, wet dirt, but only made it as far as her hands and knees. She threw off her hood in spite of the heavy rain, and gaped at the image that shocked her into halting in the first place.
There was a naked man in front of her.
His body did not so much as twitch to give her proof of life as he lay face down in the middle of the road. There was no sign of a horse, nor any small item that could have belonged to him.
He had been robbed.
Elizabeth pushed her hands against the mud to pull herself to him. She crawled as her feet struggled for purchase in the slop, but her skirt, heavy with muck and rain, hampered her.
His face lay half inside a rain puddle that grew and filled with every heavy raindrop that spattered inside, filling the pool and endangering him.
If he did not wake on his own his fate would be sealed. He would drown if she left him like this. Elizabeth gave up on her feet and pulled herself to him with her arms.
‘Twas easy with the slime-like quality of the muck. She reached his still form, took his shoulder and pulled hard until he lay on his back, out of danger from inhaling the brown water.
The dirt that darkened his face washed away in the warm rain, revealing a square jaw, prominent brows and cheekbones, and a nose with only a slight crook in it. No bruise marred his perfect features.
"How did this happen?" She asked before deciding that the answer may lie beneath his mud caked hair.
Her hand hesitated before gently moving forward. She probed her fingers through the rough string. Mud and rocks slipped away with the intrusion until she found what she searched for.
A lump the size of a robin’s egg sat stiffly on the back of his head, it cracked open like an egg as well, trickling blood into her curious fingers.
She shook her head, terror filling her gut as she twisted her head in search of anything he might posses, anything she had missed that the wretched band of thieves may have left behind. A horse could take her to the nearest village where she could sell it for medicine. Surely he would not mind in his condition.
She held back a sob as the bending trees, the sloppy road, and some leaves swirling in the whistling wind crushed her prayers. "Those brutes. Evil son's of swine."
Elizabeth stared down at the man in her arms, who did not stir at the sound of her black tongue. Her small body provided him with no protection against the weather and her helplessness engulfed her.
If she left him here he would surely die. Yet, she had naught with which to carry him back to shelter with, no cart, no horse, not even a mule.
Elizabeth ran her finger through his orange hair. She would not leave him to this monstrous fate. She would not have the blood of a man resting on her soul because a group of foolish men had to excite themselves by taking their games too far.
Elizabeth threw off her cloak. The rain soaked through the material long ago, making it useless to dry him, but it could spare the man's dignity well enough. Perhaps when he awoke and discovered that she had dragged him by his hands through mud, twigs, and filth, he would not take his anger out on her.
Luckily her hut was not far.
***
Blaise's head burned. The heat ravaged his skull so harshly that he turned over in his sleep to angle himself away from the fire. The flames followed him.
"No more logs," His slurred voice commanded. His bed felt rough and gritty, bits of straw poked him and made his body tingle and itch. He would command the servants to laundry the sheets when he decided to awake. It felt as though he slept on a mound of hay.
A hand touched his shoulder. His father, surely, for no one other than he would dare enter his chamber to wake him. But no, the hand that touched him was small and thin, not large like that of a man. His step-mother?
In another of her playful tempers that only caused him more annoyance.
Blaise pushed the hand away. "Off with ye, Marianne. I am in no mood for yer games."
"Marianne?" The feminine voice huffed as though affronted. "I am Elizabeth!"
Blaise forced his eyelids open, a difficult task since they felt as though they were being weighed down by rocks. When they finally obeyed his commands, Blaise shut them tightly again with the sharp stabs that assaulted his eyes.
He hissed and rubbed his fists to his eyes. Those same feminine hands wrapped around his wrists and tried to force him to pull away but he held firm.
Whether he could see or not did not matter. His senses returned and the awareness that he was in a foreign place with an unknown woman filled his body with sharp displeasure.
He wished to see more of where he was, but pain, tears, and blurred images greeted him when he opened his lids.
"What did you put in my eyes, witch?" He growled, rubbing harder and hating his blindness.
The hands yanked themselves away. "Witch! I put nothing in your eyes! 'Tis only dirt."
He did not believe her. He had dirt in his eyes plenty of times before and not once had he ever been in such pain. "'Tis more than dirt. Only boulders could do this."
He tried to rub out the offending things, or at least move them to an area of his eyes where they did not cause him such discomfort. He needed to open them again and see where he was, be aware of his surroundings so that he might make an escape.
The female voice softened. "Aye, 'tis true. I would not be shocked if there were some rocks in there scratching at the whites of your eyes. 'Tis actually mud from the road where I found you."
Blaise halted the rubbing of his eyes but his hands remained in place. The road where she found him?
Aye, that was correct. He was riding, heading back to Graystone castle because of the rain when he was stopped by a portly man in the middle of the road.
His memory could conjure no solid image, but he did recall how the man humbly begged Blaise for coins to feed his starving family.
Sympathetic and eager to be out of the wet weather, Blaise reached for his pouch. He was promptly grabbed from behind and dragged from his horse, held down by what could only be a giant with the strength that overpowered him, and beaten over the head before all turned black on him.
Beneath the damp blanket, for the first time Blaise became aware that he was naked. He clenched his fists harder over his useless eyes.
The thieves took everything the
n. He could hardly believe his luck that they hadn't taken his life as well, though it would only serve him right for allowing himself to be fooled.
He swore to himself to never trust another individual outside of his family after Robert's betrayal. Now, because he so much as trusted that a beggar might truly be in need of sustenance, he found himself blind and helpless.
He clenched his fists in the straw. Relying on a peasant woman for aid. ‘Twas humiliating.
“Is the pain so horrible for you to scowl so?”
The voice was soft, indicating that he was not being made a joke of. He still ignored the question. "Was there nothing left of mine scattered in the road? My sword, or horse?" He asked.
"Nay, only yourself. You are fortunate that I came when I did as you would have drowned had I not been travelling down that road."
Blaise sputtered at her strange lie. "Drowned? There are no streams near that road."
"Nay, but the rain does create small streams and lakes of its own, and you were laying face down in one of those growing puddles."
Her plainly spoken statement silenced him. He could hardly think at all. So the thieves left him for dead. He supposed he should feel grateful that they left him for dead rather than seeing to the job themselves, otherwise he would not have been rescued by the woman sitting with him.
He had no eyes so he relied on his ears to tell him that Elizabeth picked herself up from where she sat next to him, went to the other side of the chamber, and Blaise heard a liquid being poured from a pitcher before she returned and sat next to him.
"Remove your hands. I'll wash it out. 'Tis clean water."
Blaise kept his hands over his eyes for one second longer, knowing that without the pressure from his fists the stabbing would return. But the offending rocks had to be taken out or else he would suffer with them for hours.
Her hand pressed against his chest, pushing back down into the straw. "Put your head back."
He did as he was told, removing his hands and forcing them down but still keeping his eyes firmly shut against the onslaught of mud in his eyes.
