Lady Thief

by Wend Petzler

  * * * *

  Louie waited for the girls to come out, troubled by the unannounced arrival of the Butcher. They had fought so long and hard to keep Sanctuary out of the Sheriff's hands and what does Eiry do? She hires mercenaries to protect it! What more could go wrong? When he heard the thunder of hooves approaching, he gritted his teeth and closed his eyes briefly, having his answer.

  The impressive knights rode through the opened gates. They drew their reins back to halt the powerful warhorses once all were inside the castle walls. Louie glanced at Eiry as she and her sister hurried outside. Standing beside him, they watched with unease as the forbidding, war-hardened men removed their helms. Louie's heart froze at the disturbing way the black-haired beast of a man openly stared at Eiry. He saw the hot flames of desire briefly lit the soulless, black depths of the Butcher's cold eyes. Moving protectively in front of her, Louie took hold the reins of Lucian Martine's horse when the big man swung off his mount.

  Clearing his throat nervously, winning Martine's attention. “My lord, how may we help you?"

  The towering knight withdrew a rolled parchment from inside his tunic. “In my hand contains the contract legally naming me guardian of Castle Sanctuary and the child, Lilia Savoy."

  Louie couldn't breathe. Eiry hadn't just hired mercenaries—she had given Sanctuary to the Butcher!

  * * * *

  Stepping forward, Lucian bowed before the frail, young girl with golden curls. The frightened lass was dressed in a simple black gown, the somber color made the child look pale and sickly.

  "I am Sir Lucian Martine, and I am come to protect you and Sanctuary.” Lucian decided to be straight forward, pitying her when tears fell from the sweet child's enormous eyes. The comely maid beside her held the girl's fragile hand tight, trying to comfort her.

  "Please, worry naught for your future. I promise to care for you and provide protection until a marriage can be arranged many years from now. I swear upon my oath as a confirmed knight of the English Crown, I would lay down my life for you and Sanctuary.” Death was a plague he'd witnessed far too often in service to Richard, more the horrible tragedy for any child to be left alone in the world.

  Sniffing back her tears, Lilia stared, transfixed by his white scar until the maid beside her gave her a nudge. Remembering her manners, Lilia nervously curtsied before him. “Sir Knight, I am grateful for your coming to help us. I must be honest with you about my future. I wish to join the convent when I reach my thirteenth birthday. If, you'd be gracious in granting me permission to do so,” she squeaked, her eyes wide when he scowled,

  His eyes narrowed at the mention of a convent. Lucian's experience with the Holy Church was a bitter one to say the least. What with the death he and many others were responsible for committing, all in the name of religion. When Lucian saw he frightened the child, he forced his personal feelings aside. “If you have the same frame of mind when you are of age, I shall make the appropriate donation and aid you to your vocation.” He graciously bowed his head, sighing at the waste. The child may be young, yet she had potential to mature into a rare beauty and would surely have made a successful match with a high-ranking nobleman.

  His attention centered on the older girl standing beside the child. She appeared to be roughly eight and ten, tall with square, proud shoulders. Not slender and petite as he preferred, she was quite attractive though. Large, silvery-gray eyes briefly met his straight on before dropping when she curtsied to him. Thick brown hair, burnished gold entwined in the silken strands, swirled wildly around her rounded hips. He frowned at the plainness of the simple gown, noting it did nothing for her shapely body, although it was clean and efficient.

  "Who may you be?” Lucian asked bluntly. One dark, thick eyebrow rose in question as he crossed his brawny arms, waiting for the girl's response. Watching her straighten her shoulders back, he noted her eyes darted uncertainly to the young man who held his horse, returning again to meet his open stare.

  "I am Eiry, the young mistress’ maid. I am in charge of running the castle since the ... the tragedy."

  "I will retain your services until other arrangements can be made.” His gaze wandered over the crumbling, small castle, noting at least the courtyard was free of weeds. Inhaling in the clean, fresh air of the country, he smiled faintly when several plump chickens pranced by, scratching at the dirt.

  Why would anyone kill for an old, rundown castle?

  It suddenly dawned on him there was no older sister to greet him. “Lilia, where is your sister? Was she not supposed to be here and meet with me before she left for Wales?” Suspicious, Lucian watched the girls look at each other in confusion, seeming unsure what he talked about.

  Eiry suddenly remembered William would think she'd honor the marriage contract her grandparents had arranged. She smiled sadly and lied through her teeth. “My lord, Lilia's sister has already left to attend her grandparents’ court and prepare for her wedding. We were not made aware of why she was so assured of our safety until you proclaimed you are the lass’ legal guardian,” she spoke hastily, hoping to direct Martine away from their confusion. Anger flared in those cold, black eyes and for the first time in all her ten and nine years, Eiry was afraid.

  Rage exploded inside Lucian. “Are you telling me that Lilia's closest, living relative has left her unprotected so she could get married?"

  Hesitant to respond, Eiry just inclined her head, holding Lilia's hand tighter in her fearful grip.

  Startled, he realized along the road leading to Castle Sanctuary there were no sheep in the pastures. He pinned the red-haired boy with a fierce glare. “Who are you and where are the sheep Sir Thomas planned to raise for income?"

  "My lord, I am Louie, and I am afraid to tell you the sheep were claimed for back taxes. We have only an old milk cow and some chickens left."

  Cursing under his breath, Lucian drew his gauntlets off and jammed his hands on his hips. “Derrick, we will ride out in the morning and have a word with the sheriff and demand an explanation about what's been happening of late to Sanctuary.” Returning a severe gaze back on the trio, he continued, “I am lord over the holding you live upon. Your safety and welfare are hereby entrusted to me by the Duke of Pembroke. Do you understand?"

  Dumbfounded, Louie stared at him for a moment. Then the young man gave a jerky nod and answered, “Yea, my lord, we understand and will obey."

  The tall girl stepped forward, a flush upon her pretty features. She waved a slender hand toward his shoulder. “My lord, if you like, I will take a look at your wound while Louie shows your men to the stables.” Hesitant, she met his suspicious frown, appearing relieved when he nodded.

  "Yea, I'd best have it stitched up. The damn thing won't quit bleeding,” Lucian rumbled, waving the willowy creature to precede him.

  Scanning the rough repairs made to the masonry outside the main hall, Lucian cringed at the amount of monies needed to be spent in rebuilding the rundown castle. One tower rose above and to the left of the main floor while a long wing spread to the right. Here lay a major expense. Its roof lay in a cluttered heap with one wall collapsed. Where the hell was he going to place the rest of his company? Heaving a deep sigh, he made a mental note of the growing list to bring Sanctuary back to its’ former glory. Not only were there to be repairs, additional servants would be needed to be found for cooking, cleaning, and taking care of the livestock, once they were purchased. Field workers needed to be found to turn the soil and plant hay and wheat in the fields when spring came.

  Entering the great hall where the family and servants gathered for meals and entertainment, his foul mood eased somewhat. Looking about the hall, he noted the fresh rushes covering the hardwood floors and spicy herbs sprinkled over it, giving the large chamber an aromatic, clean scent.

  Well, at least the men who accompanied me will find warmth and comfort in this great hall, he thought with more optimism than he felt.

  Thick, round beeswax candles placed upon heavy, cast iron holders, sat unl
it, being conserved until evening time. Several split logs burned in the enormous fire pit of rock and mortar set in the center of the chamber, a copper flute was set in the ceiling above for the smoke to exit the low, wood beamed chamber. The walls were whitewashed and clean, bare of the usual smoke discoloration issued from the open fire. Wide windows, closed by wooden shutters to retain the warmth from the fire, faced the courtyard. Long, wooden tables and benches were positioned in an orderly fashion. Several over-sized chairs were placed by the second fireplace built into the wall farthest from the front entrance.

  Lucian stared at the warm, homey chamber, his heart pounding with the rare hope of finding a place where he could belong; a home of his own. His wandering mind shied away from his own lonely and painful childhood. War of late had kept him occupied as he and many other noblemen followed Richard on the Crusades. Home had become a distant dream, a goal he set for himself. And here he was a guardian of a small holding.

  Life might at last be turning around for us, he thought with a faint smile. Well, he wanted a change in his life, and he had it with a crumbling castle, not to mention an orphaned child left in his care.

  Despite so much needing be done to the castle, he felt immensely relieved Pembroke had sought him out. To honor his vow to find Sir Thomas and his wife's killer and protect his ward, a little girl who made it quite clear she wanted to become a nun, Lucian knew it would not be an easy task. In a flash, he realized if Lilia did join a convent, she had essentially made him successor of Sanctuary. He noticed the tall girl watching him, a wary curiosity in her pretty eyes, and the young child beside her was clearly frightened of him. Bitterness enveloped him. What monster had he become when even small children were terrified of him?

  The door was thrown wide open and Derrick entered the hall, coming to a surprised halt. Derrick grinned broadly, probably happy to finally be free from tents, bloodshed, and war.

  "Lucian, let me help you with your armor,” Derrick offered.

  Eiry watched as Martine unbelted his sword and tossed it on the table. The knight named Derrick and a squire stripped off the bloodied tunic, heavy chain mail, and leather jerkin underneath. They left his sun bleached-white linen undergarment on. The thick material quickly soaked up the fresh blood flowing unchecked from the wound being reopened when they doffed his armor.

  She took a deep breath, getting down to business. “Lilia, go on upstairs and fetch my medicine tray.” The child did as she bid and ran up the stone stairs. Placing a small cauldron of water over the fire pit, she turned around and caught her lip from gasping. Mesmerized, she stared at the view exposed before her.

  Martine grabbed the hem of his blood-soaked undershirt and dragged the garment up, exposing a heavily muscled, bronze-skinned chest. A light sprinkling of dark, curling hair enhanced the bulging muscles as it narrowed down the washboard of his hard stomach, past his navel, disappearing under tight, black woolen hose. Firm thighs and long, straight legs made muscular from riding a warhorse drew the material taunt. The impressive bulge between his legs gave evidence that everything about the man was huge. His powerful, broad shoulders were immense. Bulging biceps rippled as he eased the garment completely over his head, he winced from the deep cut in the curve of his shoulder. The dark knight's body was absolute perfection and pure strength from carrying over two hundred pounds of steel armor in the lists or regular chain mail in battle.

  Raised alongside men of war all her life, knowing all about their physical attributes, she felt panic setting in. This particular man should not affect her at all, but he did and in a far more alarming way to her peace of mind. Lucian Martine was a man farther apart from all other men she had ever known, and it frightened her, at the same time exciting her in a way she'd never known. Eiry could not help question if it was her imagination when she'd seen the sadness envelope the towering man when he viewed her home. A part of her resented him for barging into her life and taking over, yet the haunted look in those fierce black eyes gave her pause. Did the Butcher have a soul? Was he as wounded in his heart and soul as she from seeing so much death and hatred?

  The cut in his shoulder was deeper than she first perceived. Dipping a clean cloth in the hot water, Eiry went about cleaning the wound. Startled by how his warm skin felt smooth and satiny under her fingertips, she forced the provocative thought away, trying to judge the depth of the cut. When he glanced down at his shoulder as she inspected it, Martine inadvertently brushed his silky hair against her cheek. Trembling from the innocent contact, Eiry was relieved when Lilia carefully made her way to them, precariously holding the heavy tray. Lilia looked apprehensive and unsure about coming any closer to the intimidating man whose stony visage did little to ease her fear of him. Smiling, Eiry encouraged her to come nearer and took the tray from the child.

  Trying to steady her own nerves, Eiry's fingers actually shook as she tried several times to thread the needle. The exotic fragrance of musk from his body combined with the spicy scent of horse and leather disturbed her fragile peace of mind. The heady scents made her pulse race with excitement. What was wrong with her? Focusing on his wound and not the man, she tied her long hair back with a leather thong and began to stitch up the gaping wound. Martine sat motionless, his eyes forward as if he were made of stone. The only sign of life was the slight flare of his nostrils when she leaned close and her long hair brushed his forearm. When she finished her task, Eiry applied a thick, pungent salve over the sewn wound and wrapped clean strips of linen around his wide chest and shoulder. Standing back to double check her work, her gaze reluctantly wandered over the multitude of scars marking his great body. Silvery symbols of living a hard life full of danger and war. The long, thin scar marking his handsome face made her question who could be so bold as to strike the Butcher such a deadly blow?

  "In a couple of days, I will check the stitches, and if all heals nicely, I shall remove them. Shall I show you to your chambers?” Eiry pinched flat her mouth, veering from the painful thought of the man claiming her parents’ chambers until her mind rationalized it was she who had hired him. Shooing her sister away, the child stared up at Martine, amazement on her sweet features from his apparent bravado as if he was a true hero.

  Life and its cruel twists, Eiry thought dejectedly.

  Wrestling her thoughts back to the present, she took a clean rag and washed her hands free of his blood. “I fear, I must warn you of the castle's continued decline. We were able to reinforce the great hall's ceiling and made sure it will hold. As to the only living quarter up yonder stairs, the masonry was replaced and the three chambers are free of drafts.” Eiry informed the silent knight, seeing Martine wince when he stood. Remaining shirtless, he followed her up the stairs.

  Keeping her eyes focused ahead of her, unease increasing by the unmistakable, domineering presence of the huge man behind her. “My lord, this room to the left belongs to Lilia, and yours is to the right.” She pushed open the solid, oak door, respectfully stepping aside for Martine to enter first. The harsh-looking man walked around, investigating the spacious room, his attention centered upon the magnificent bed. A wedding gift to her mother from her father, the headboard was elaborately designed with carved Welsh symbols honoring Rowena's royal status, although disowned for falling madly in love with an English knight.

  Lost in her thoughts, Eiry became aware the tall knight stood beside her. Shaken by his sudden nearness, not hearing his soft tread, Eiry squeaked, “My lord?"

  "How long have you worked for Sir Thomas?"

  "I've been with the family since I was born, my lord,” Eiry replied honestly with a sad smile.

  "Where is your family?” He walked past her and opened the large trunks shoved against the near wall, surprised to find them empty.

  "They died from the fever,” her lying words whispered, filled with anguish. Feeling not for the first time the brutal weight of the world upon her slender shoulders, Eiry braced herself and looked at the empty trunks with a lead heart. Her parents no longer need
ed their clothing, and there were many who came to Sanctuary in desperate need. The castle had become the very epitome of its namesake. Eiry gave all which could be spared or stolen to those who had nothing, ensuring none went without while Robert and Prince John were in power.

  "How does Louie fit in around here?"

  Startled by his question, she looked up at him, confused. “My lord, Louie stayed when all others fled. If you doubt his loyalty, ask him yourself."

  His sculptured mouth pulled to the right, a sexy, knowing look in his dark eyes as he took a full step closer, bringing his body flush to hers. She was forced to tilt her head back, disconcerted by the fact, accustomed to looking most men in the eye. “I asked not where his loyalty rested, I ask where does he sleep? Do you share your bed with him or is your relationship purely platonic?” Martine's wicked smile deepened, enjoying her discomfort.

  Taking a cautious step away from his overwhelming presence, she glared at his audacity. “I share my bed with no one! If you have no further questions pertaining to Lilia or the castle, I shall return to the kitchen and prepare supper for you and your men."

  Probably deciding their conversation concerning Louie could be delayed for another time, he gave a slight nod. His next question took her by surprise. “Have you much contact with thieves?"

  A guarded look crossed her flushed features. “Why do you ask?"

  "Along our way to Sanctuary we were attacked by unknown knights. A band of bowmen came to our aid and proceeded to empty the dead of anything valuable. Have you many problems with rogue knights in these parts, too?"

  Eiry felt trapped by the question. Either answer could bring harm to her and her fellow thieves. Her indecision must have been apparent for he closed the distance again between them. A glower carved his breathtaking features in a cold, granite mask.