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 crueler.

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 for Amazon Kindle

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

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.

Through 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?”

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.

A frown touched his brow. “I see, and, before we wed, will you not tell your husband—to—be why you have chosen him?”

Marianne tensed and dug her fingernails deeper into his hand. His eye twitched but he did naught else.

“You know precisely why it has come to this, my lord.

She watched the irritation flicker across his face and was pleased. The twitch of confusion that came with it prompted her to dig her nails deeper into him.

He knew exactly why they were in this position.

With steel-like control, he closed his free hand over hers and pried her claws from his flesh.

The service began.

Marianne lost all thoughts of anger and felt overwhelmed with giddy excitement and happiness.

She did it! She avoided her marriage to Sir Ferdinand and was about to become Lady Gray, the future Countess of Graystone.

Her father would finally see that he was wrong to try and force her into a marriage with a man she did not choose herself. A man who caused prickles of unease to present themselves along her flesh whenever he smiled at her in that crooked, promising way.

She was so excited about the intelligence of planning the abduction, the courage required to carry it out and actually succeeding that she barely noted a slight err in Friar Mitchell’s service.

“Wait.” She said, as it was now her turn to speak her affirmative of the marriage. All eyes turned to her as she halted the proceedings.

Gray threw his head back and closed his eyes. “Now what?”

She ignored him. “Friar, did you say, Lord William Gray?”

“I did.”

Everything inside of her froze. “Not … Blaise Gray?”

Her original intended and the man who sent her such insulting letters. If this meant what she thought it meant then it could only be that the man standing next to her was—

“You think I am my son?”

Her hands flew to her mouth. Lord Gray. Lord William Gray, was now staring at her with something akin to a predator’s gleam in his eyes.

“Oh, good Lord.” She turned and attempted to flee but Lord Gray’s hands shot out, snatching her arms and pulling her back with a painful grip that made her cringe.

The look on his face was hardly pleased.

“Forgive me, my lord. I knew not who you truly were.”

There was no forgiveness in his eyes. “So your plan was to force this onto Blaise, was it not? My son?” He gave her a little shake. “I remember now. He was to marry, but he did not approve of the match.”

“My lord,” her men would not dare attempt to help her, not now when they too knew that he was the true earl and not merely the future one. Everyone in the church was at his mercy. “Please.”

“No.” The word was sharp and cruel on his tongue. “You wanted revenge, and regardless of Blaise, I am still ultimately responsible as I agreed to let him call off your marriage to him. So let us be wed instead if that is your wish.” He yanked her back to his side.

“Continue with the ceremony.” He barked.

Marianne sent a pleading look to Friar Mitchell. His returning look was apologetic. “Will ye take the honorable Lord William Gray of Graystone as yer husband?”

She could not answer. She could not.

“My lady,” the tone was a warning as his grip on her arm increased, his blunt fingertips pressing and digging into her through her sleeve.

Marianne winced. The press of his fingers diminished, but barely.

“I will not leave here empty handed after ye have humiliated me thus. Say yes.”

She thought of the men behind her and the situation she put them in. They had handled a lord so disrespectfully on her orders, and no doubt they would suffer all the worse for it if she did not speak. Marianne forced the word out of her. It would come no other way. “Yes.”

Everything else became a blur of blessings, and her hand being pressed down to sign a document that binded them in every possible way. She could hardly move. Hardly think.

It would have continued on if not for the strong hand that tangled itself in her hair, pulling her forward until her lips clashed against the mouth of her new husband.

Marianne’s fists pounded his shoulders and her feet scrambled for escape, but his arm around her body and tangled in her hair prevented any movement.

She sucked air into her lungs until they felt ready to explode. Her eyes wide open as she stared into his blue orbs while he caressed her tongue with his own. Her eyes grew wider when the hand that held her waist in place slid down and clenched her bottom.

Helplessly, her cheeks heated, and she suddenly knew what he desired from her. The same thing Ferdinand had wanted. What she no longer wished to give.

When he released her Marianne could not stand in the spinning room, and she blindly reached her hands out to the priest to keep from falling to her knees. He caught her and dutifully allowed her to lean against him to catch her escaping breath.

“Congratulations, my lord.” Friar Mitchell said carefully. “May you be blessed with many more children and long life.”

Children. Marianne would be expected to give him children. She would be sick. Everything felt hot.

She ran from the altar, passed Archer and her men and burst through the doors of the church. The sharp chill in the air only made her situation more real, more crisp, and she knew she had to escape it.

She could vaguely hear Archer calling after her but she refused to stop. She ran for the horses, mounted, and kicked off.

Miserable tears stung her eyes but were dried by the whipping wind, and her race to safety was filled with self belittlement.

How could she be so stupid? Archer and his men kidnapped the wrong man. She’d married the wrong man!

Chapter Three

William peered out of the arrow loop in his tallest tower. A caravan resembling a stream of ants approached his castle on a brown ribbon of road.

One of those ants was his new bride. From his position she would not see him watching as she came closer. He didn’t want her knowing, yet, of his eagerness to have her.

At last. The thought brought a vicious smile to his lips and made his hand clench into a fist. Now that she had come she would know the humiliation he suffered at her hands.

His footman knocked and entered the bare, drafty room. This tower room was only useful when enemies approached and he needed to survey every available space around his castle and lands. But the last attack had been when he was barely able to ride his first horse, and now he used it to think quietly, and watch for his wife.

Adam, a young man with hair and eyes matching the mud on the road outside was one of the few still loyally willing to jump and run at William’s commands. “Milord, they are arriving.”

William kept his eyes on the road, his hand scratching his neck where the scratch from the blade recently healed. “Aye, I see them.”

“Shall I prepare the servants to greet her?”

William half turned his head to tell him not to, but thought better of it. Her father would be escorting her, and he would not want to give reason to insult the man, even though he had raised an impudent daughter.

“Yes, do that. I will be down shortly, and Adam?”

Adam turned when he called.

William’s eyes were sharp. “Be sure that my son is not among the greeters.”

Adam cast him a curious glance before he scurried back down the spiral stone stairway to do as he was bid.

William turned back to the scenery of grey skies, wet landscape and fresh winds, a sharp change from the cheerful weather outside the withering church on his wedding day.

His palms were flat on the damp stone window as he leaned forward to watch the ants turn into small men, horses, and pack mules.

For a split second in that church he felt a swell of respect for the woman. The moment he discovered she had erred, did not even know his true identity before marrying him, it disappeared like the sun in those miserable grey clouds outside.

She throttled his head with the club of stupidity.

He should have known better, really. Perhaps boredom could be blamed for his own faulty judgment that day.

William’s fingers twitched. He wanted to go down there and teach his new wife a few lessons about her brash personality, something he craved since their wedding a fortnight ago.

That thought in mind, William descended the stairs to greet his bride.

***

‘Twas finally happening. Now was the time to reap what she had sewn and face her victim. Face her punishment.

Her husband.

The entire ride Marianne twitched, itched, and waited for the journey to end so she could put herself at ease.

Her father was no comfort to her apprehension as he remained silent the whole way. Hardly sparing her a glance but to tell her with his eyes what a disappointment he thought of her.

Marianne clutched her father’s hand as he helped her descend from her mare, and when her feet were safely on the squishing ground, she did not let him go.

Regardless of her bundled nerves, her eyes were not on him, they were on the line of servants at the front doors waiting to greet her.

Maids with their hands clasped together in front of their worn gowns and men with their hands behind their backs, all with their heads respectively bent, and none with the air of delight at her arrival.

They were just recently brought from whatever task they had been doing. She could tell because some of the boys had dirt smudges on their faces and bits of straw poking out of their clothes.

Occasionally they snuck their heads up, enough so they might inspect their new mistress.

Marianne could not see him anywhere. Though which him would displease her more, Blaise or William Gray—her husband—Marianne was not sure.

She lifted her head to stare at the tall, gray stone towers, matching the sky so well that for a moment she thought they stretched into each other and became one. Would her new husband lock her into one of those stone towers? She shivered.

Her home had never been a truly merry place since the death of her final living brother, but ‘twas familiar and held memories dear to her. This place, this castle that towered above her like a prison, was hardly calling for Marianne to enter its doors with a smile.

She turned her eyes back to the servants and saw them moving apart to give Lord Gray space to descend the steps.

He was the same man she had met and married in that church, she knew, but his eyes were different, holding the triumphant air of a man who had just been given what he wanted most, but dark with anticipation for when he could play with it, or break it.

Marianne quickly lowered her face before he could lock eyes with her, and her cheeks heated. Her shame too great to challenge him just now.

Her eyes pointing down, Marianne saw there was something amiss about his step, a happy spring that had not been in his eyes.

The heat in Marianne’s face left her and she was instantly alert. Something was not right. Happiness did not exist in him at this moment.

He had something planned.

Her husband called out, but not to her. “Sir Guy Holton,”

Her father opened his arms to him. “Lord William Gray.”

Marianne watched with her mouth dropped as the two men bowed to each other quite formally before embracing like brothers, and much back slapping ensued.

Marianne tried to mask her disgust with her father’s behavior. ‘Twas difficult, however, so instead she pretended that if she refused look at them, they would not see her. Her attempt was unsuccessful.

Her father put an arm about her shoulders and forcefully pushed her forth, even as she resisted by digging her heals into the rocks. “But of course you already know my lovely daughter.”

The warm, confident grin with which Lord Gray greeted her unsettled her deeply. She had to avert her eyes and giving him a proper curtsy, one much more deep and polite than the rude thing she’d performed back at the church. Back when she thought he was Blaise.

The humiliation was nearly unbearable.

Then it occurred to her. After weeks of brooding over her foolish choices and the day when she would come here she had not once thought of Blaise, and the color drained from her cheeks.

Blaise would be here. She would have to greet him and behave as a lady towards the one responsible for her current state.

She wanted to blame him for everything, all her misfortunes since she first heard his name and even the ones before then, even though the fault was entirely hers.

Because of her, she was married to a lord and put everyone she involved in her plot in danger. She did not even know what Blaise looked like so she could not make a point of ignoring him. What if Lord Gray had regular guests to his castle? She could not snub everyone in proper dress just because there would be a possibility that it was Blaise.

Turning her head ever so slightly, she caught sight of Archer, struggling to help the other servants remove the luggage and other things she was to keep at Graystone. She wondered if his wife had time to put any salve on his back, and her face softened apologetically. He was too occupied with his task of lifting heavy trunks to pay her any mind.

The look did not go unnoticed by Gray, whose eyes shot towards Archer and noticed him for the first time. Another dark eagerness flashed in their blue depths.

Marianne froze, her heart picking up speed as she waited for him to speak, but Gray did not draw attention to Archer.

Marianne stood tall but struggled to breathe as she wondered whether or not he would keep his promise.

Her father spoke. “My lord?”

Just as quickly, William’s attention was focused solely on her. They had both forgotten his question.

“How could I ever forget such a vision?” His arm flew out, captured her hand before she could pull away, and drew it to his lips.

Marianne’s face became hot at the lie that fell so easily from the lips that gingerly kissed her hand. He spoke softly and his manner was gentle, but his eyes bore hard into hers. She saw the angry soul hidden within. It consumed her like a hissing fire she could not escape, suffocating and destroying her hope.

Finally Marianne jerked her hand away and stepped back, only to realize the servants were still watching.

Lord Gray acted as if naught was amiss and continued to smile at her, though despite the glow it emitted she could never believe it to be genuine with his inflamed eyes.

He rested his palm on the small of her back and drew her forward, she did not put her heels into the ground this time, and Marianne realized that she still had to go through the horrors of being introduced to the servants.

She nodded and smiled to them and they bobbed and bowed in return. Their smiles were as nervous as hers, and just as false as her husband’s. Marianne knew why. A new mistress could change the way the entire household was run. They thought she could make their lives miserable, but Marianne knew she would never be able to utter a word to them.

William would never allow it after what she had done.

William hesitated, one side of his lip upturned. He was enjoying her torment. After a long moment he clapped his hands and called for attention. “Return to your work, we have much to do before tomorrow night! More guests will be arriving any minute now!”

“Yes, yes! The party!” Sir Holton said with much enthusiasm. “We must celebrate the wedding of the earl and his new countess!”

Despite the commanding tone in William’s voice and Holton’s excitement, Marianne took curious note of how the servants hesitated, looked at each other, and slowly made their way back to their respective chores.

Marianne opened her mouth to question the behavior, but thought better of it. Her precarious situation stilled her tongue.

Her father grinned gleefully with the circumstances now, but before he had been livid with her, roam-around-the-room, screaming-furious. At least the only good to come from forcing marriage onto the wrong man was that she had married someone above her station who had already inherited his title. That alone had been enough to prevent Holton from throwing her from his manor.

It was a double-edged sword, however. On the one hand she brought a title to her name, but on the other she might possibly have brought the wrath of an earl on her house.

Guy Holton had been convinced William Gray would demand blood for her foolishness. Only time would tell what kind of price he expected to be paid for her actions.

William separated himself from her and addressed her father loudly enough so that she might hear as well, though the air of brotherly acquaintance was gone from his voice. “Sir Holton, before I have you settled into your room, would it be possible to speak a word with you and your daughter, alone?”

A bead of sweat rolled down Marianne’s forehead, and the accompanying swallow felt as painful as a fist-sized rock traveling down the inside of her neck.

Her father seemed to be swallowing rocks of similar size as he adjusted his cuffs and grinned with beads of his own sweat accumulating on his face.

“Of course, milord.”

It seemed they would be discovering the price of her stupidity sooner rather than later.

***

Marianne and Sir Holton were made to stand while William sat behind his writing table. The room was made warm, nearly welcoming with rushes under their feet and a fireplace with a roaring fire on their right.

The castle may have looked chilly from the outside but on the inside the decorative tapestries that hung over the stone walls, in the solar especially, made it seem more like a home than a fortress. Marianne had never seen anything like it, and she fought the lump in her throat with the thought that she would have to get used to it quickly. This was her home now.

Archer stood off in the corner with his hands clasped in front of him and his head bent while her father spoke on his behalf.

“Fiendish and absolutely corrupt he is, and I am sincerely apologetic that he is from my own home and humiliated that I had not noticed the horrendous nature of his character, though I give you my word, my honorable word, that he has been severely punished.”

Archer shifted uncomfortably, and Holton continued with his hands clasped together and his face pleading for any understanding that William’s predicament was no fault of his. “I have taken into account that you may wish to have him punished further, which was why I was so merciful when I handled his discipline, personally I might add, I would not have trusted such a thing with anyone else. As he is now your property you may wish to handle him as you see fit.”

Marianne tensed when the offer was put on the table and spun her head to Archer, who lifted his head and let his mouth fall open.

“Father, you cannot sell him!”

“Be silent you stupid girl,” Holton raised the back of his hand to her.

“There will be none of that,” William interjected, raising his own hand for peace and lowering it when it was attained, a gentle smile lifting his lips. “Remember that tonight I have been reunited with my bride. I am pleased and expect all others to be as well.”

His eyes met hers and Marianne was so caught by the sincerity of his words that for a moment she believed he was telling the truth.

Then his eyes grew cold and they turned back to her father. “Now, about our arrangement,”

“My lord, I brought what I could,” Sir Holton waved his hand towards the sacs of coins, gold frames wrapped in cloth, rings and every exotic spice that was available to him, which sat in a useless heap on the floor.

The Holton manor had been stripped nearly bare of all things fine to pay for Marianne’s dowry. The green gown she wore was the last of her finery, with only her plainest of clothing packed into her luggage, and this was only because her father did not want them to present himself as a pauper to William.

Still, they both knew it would hardly be enough.

Holton pointed his hand in Archer’s direction, but did not look at him, though he sneered dramatically when he spoke of him. “I would offer you this servant, not sell, as compensation for the trouble you have had to endure at his wretched, deceiving hands. His father made the finest arrows so he has some skill in that trade, but his specialty lies with the horses. He can sleep with them as well if you like. Or you may dispose of him.”

Marianne shrieked. “Father!”

He did not flinch at the high pitch produced so closely to his ear, nor did he look at her. Marianne was left with the helpless notion that no matter how much she yelled or begged, Archer’s fate was entirely out of her hands.

William turned to Archer, and Marianne’s heart fell into her stomach while he considered it.

She silently prayed, though for what she was unaware. Should Lord Gray turn Archer away he would have no home to go to as he was obviously no longer welcome to work at Holton House.

And if he stayed here, what then? How would he be treated? Lord Gray had sworn on his honor in a church that he would pretend those men had never existed should he see them again, but it was quite difficult to pretend in this situation, if he ever had any intention of keeping his word, that is.

Lord Gray tapped his chin thoughtfully. “Despite my suspicious nature, which you will find forgivable as you wish to give me a servant who has participated in my abduction, and whom you have called a treacherous villain, I shall accept him. He sounds as if he can be of use. I will not ‘dispose’ of him, however.”

Marianne shrieked inside her head for joy and anguish, and Archer continued to open and close his mouth, as if the words he wanted had been sucked from his body. Eventually he resigned himself to the rueful fact that he could not speak against his betters and lowered his head.

Holton grew two inches taller. “Understandable, milord, very understandable. You are very generous in your kindness. Now, just between the two of us, my lord,” Marianne’s father freely walked around the table and approached Gray with the air of an old friend, and without permission as well.

Marianne was not sure of their manner towards each other, especially when Lord Gray was so friendly earlier. Whatever friendliness was there had evidently been a show put on for the servants, because now he seemed appalled that Marianne’s father could do such a thing as kneel down and put his fatherly arm around William’s noble shoulder.

Holton hardly seemed to notice. “I know that Archer somehow tricked my daughter into this scheme, villain that he is. He confessed as much. There must have been more people involved, but no one in my household will speak of such things despite my best efforts.”

Marianne wondered if her father’s best efforts were still stinging poor Archer’s raw back.

“Tell me, my lord, how many men accosted you in the church? Tell me what they looked like and I swear on my honor I shall help you track down every last one of those cowardly worms. Should they be a part of my household they shall be tossed out and left to starve.” He paused, as though remembering that the decision would not be his. “Or, you may dispense of them yourself.”

William looked at Marianne with a raised brow when her father finished with his speech.

She held her breath and returned his steady gaze, her fists shaking at her sides as she addressed her father. “I told you there was no one else.”

Red faced, her father ran back around the table to screech in her ear. “Nonsense! Who performed the marriage then?”

William stood and commanded all of the authority into his voice as he glared down ice at Holton. Lord Gray was a head taller than his shorter, thicker guest, and easily intimidated him with these alone. “Sir Holton, you are correct that someone had to be present to perform the ceremony. Since that man would obviously have to be a man of the cloth, I will withhold his name and assure you that there were no others. You can rest easy knowing that your house has not been corrupted by anymore felons.

Her father’s face returned to a normal color and Marianne’s face grew hot as she fought not to faint. She could hardly believe her ears.

He was going to keep his promise! If she was not so put out with him for being the wrong man she would have thrown her arms about his neck.

Sir Holton muttered to himself grudgingly, knowing very well that it was beyond him to argue. “Very good, my lord, but are you quite sure you would not wish to share the identity of the priest?”

William glared and Holton flushed, stumbling to the other side of the table. “Very well, you are a good man to protect him, even if he is a man of the cloth.”

“Indeed.” William then turned to Archer who still had his head down, staring at the floor as though he still couldn’t quite believe what had occurred. “You. I am sure the others will tell you which way to the stables, go there and ask for Robert. He will give you work and show you a place where you may sleep.”

Archer opened his mouth, and then looked at Sir Holton, who did not look back at him. “Aye, milord,” and he bowed and ducked out of the room.

Marianne’s heart went out to him. She guiltily lifted her eyes to look at Lord Gray, wishing he would bestow some pity on her and let her leave with Archer so that she would not have to endure anymore of this torture.

He did no such thing, and his eyes remained cold on her.

A knock on the door sounded and a servant walked in without waiting for an invitation.

His audacity startled Marianne when the man stopped cold in his tracks at the sight of both Marianne and her father.

Sir Holton snapped at him. “The nerve of you! Coming in here and interrupting us?”

“Milord, I am deeply sorry, I—-” the servant cleared his throat and spoke as if he had not heard her father. “Your guests are arriving outside, milord.”

Marianne felt sick. Guests meant that she would have to stay in William’s company longer. Much longer if this were to be the proper celebration of a true earl.

She did not know if she could face the guests and play the blushing bride to satisfy the crowd.

William turned his back on Sir Holton and Marianne to look out the windows, and by his expression Marianne knew that he could see the guests coming up the same road she had traveled earlier.

“I see. Adam, have their rooms prepared and bring them some warm wine. The days are becoming chilled.”

The servant bowed and scurried out the door.

William walked around his writing table and Marianne once again found his eyes on her as he approached. He stood close, she could feel the heat from his body as he raised his hand to caress her cheek. An uncertain chill ran down her spine that had naught to do with the weather.

His eyes remained cold. “I should like to introduce my guests to my beautiful wife.”

***

Marianne’s face burned from her cheeks all the way to the back of her head from all the false smiling. Greeting and curtsying to Lady Anne, Lord Gray’s kin, a woman with the same color hair and eyes as her cousin and nearly the same height, had been the most horrible experience of her life, because now Marianne felt like a liar to William’s kin.

Though Anne’s face was plain the mischievous smile she donned when a morsel of gossip presented itself hinted at a fun disposition.

Marianne would have certainly enjoyed Anne’s company had her situation not been so wretched.

Anne’s husband, the Earl of Seacliffe, had darker hair and stood barely taller than his wife, though their similar smiles of acceptance towards Marianne made her feel only more guilty, and that was before the hugging and greeting of several other well-bred ladies, their husbands, and other distant relatives and friends of William’s.

All she heard was praise in her ear.

“How lucky you are to have snatched him.”

“Such a beauty ye are, ‘tis no wonder he fell for ye.”

“What a lovely gown ye wear. I imagine Lord Gray must spoil ye quite a bit already.”

Marianne’s eye twitched under her crumbling patience, but she endured it and no one seemed to believe her sputtering language was anything other than a weak, womanly shyness brought on by so many people.

She looked through the crowds, wishing the fog of laughing and dancing people would all decide that the room was too hot for their tastes and scatter, hopefully home to their own beds. But they stayed and remained oblivious of the helplessness of their hostess.

Marianne saw William studying her from a group of men with an entertained smirk on his face.

She fought to keep from scowling at him in front of so many noble people. Instead, she brightened her smile, poured every happy memory into her head and let him have it.

The shocked expression on his face made it worth the effort, but her cheeks and skull felt as though they were on fire.

Her face relaxed when she felt a prickle behind her neck. She turned and Sir Ferdinand appeared through the haze of people. Fear jolted inside of her and consumed her body like wildfire. Her eyes met his through the haze of dancing people as he stood off the wall and openly stared. His crooked nose scrunched and drooping eyes sent her hideous messages of his displeasure.

Marianne shivered, then froze, forgetting the conversation Lady Anne was trying to have with her when Ferdinand approached and formally bowed.

She stood straight and stiff and allowed him to clasp her hand with his gnarled fingers and bestow it with a kiss. Even through the fabric of her gloves, she felt his wet lips and suppressed another shiver of disgust.

“Congratulations to you, my lady.” His voice was deceptively sincere. Marianne tried to pull her hand back, calmly so Lady Anne and none of the watching guests would see, but he held firm, his other hand caressing the glove he had just kissed.

Though she was slightly taller, perspiration formed on her forehead with her sudden stress and quickening of her heart.

This man frightened her beyond anything she ever experienced, and sent chills under her skin.

Like the first time when she had been introduced to him, the faint scent of urine wafted from his clothes and circled her, tightening around her body through her clothes, trapping her to him.

He was bald on the top of his head, but on either side of his skull grey hair stuck out in all different directions. Unlike his hair, his eyes were focused solely on her.

“‘Tis a shame I missed my opportunity to have you. I should have acted more swiftly.”

Anne pretended to sneeze so that she might clasp her nose against the smell. The small action gave Marianne enough courage to smile, because in this castle, Ferdinand could not frighten her with his perverse innuendos.

“‘Tis fortunate for both of us that I am swifter.” She said, and Ferdinand’s grasp on her hand tightened with a strength that should have been impossible for his age.

***

Her hair was as red as he remembered and she smelled of the fresh air he had eagerly inhaled in the damp church. With her face so flushed from the humiliation she no doubt felt, pleasant color invaded her cheeks, leaving a beautiful maiden for his pleasure. More beautiful than he remembered.

When well-wishers approached, her face lost its blushing color and twisted in an awkward smile.

Her face soon dropped, as though stunned and fearful of whom she was seeing, but a group of giggling women blocked the view of whoever was the cause of her stress, and William tilted his head, willing them to move on.

They did, and William gasped quietly when he saw that the source of her discomfort was the man he most despised. His fists clenched and body trembled.

He should have warned his men at the gate not to allow Ferdinand entrance, but it had been years since he thought of the man’s wretched existence. Yet it seemed Ferdinand had not forgotten him at all.

William politely separated himself from his group and inched closer to listen to Marianne’s conversation, and he cocked his head when he heard Ferdinand’s statement of opportunity, and he wondered at the meaning behind it.

He watched Marianne shift, and the subtle pull of her arm as she tried to back away from the man was very telling indeed. He felt a sympathetic tugging in his chest that he had not experienced in some years. It made him angry to see her beautiful hand in the cruel grip of that hideous man.

Perhaps Ferdinand was somehow the reason Marianne felt compelled to kidnap a husband. Her continued efforts to pull away from him and disappear into the crowds suggested as much, and such an action seemed almost understandable if that man was her original intended.

His reputation was known to make even the most experienced of women shudder.

But no matter, her reasons made no difference. He still planned on enjoying her torture for a few more minutes before he rescued her.

Ferdinand would never dare attempt anything other than whisper a few lecherous comments in her ear while around so many people. William relaxed with the knowledge that she was perfectly safe.

Unfortunately, Ferdinand saw him before he could make his gallant entry. His milky eyes lit up with pleasure before he slowly approached him at a pace understandable for his age, though William knew he could move faster, and without the need to put his hand on his lower back while still clinging to Marianne’s hand and forcing her with him with the other.

“I must say that I am quite insulted that I was never invited to the wedding. It must have been a small event to sneak by so many people.” Ferdinand smirked.

Anne’s husband John, chose that moment to make himself known. “Aye, quite,” His arms were crossed, his eyes under scruffy eyebrows changed from their sparkling bright color to dark, though he did fail to conceal a quirk of the lips.

William looked behind him and noted that several other guests were having similar troubles at keeping their expressions under control, though they put more force into their disapproval than John did.

William had thought of the insult his family and friends would suffer from not receiving an invitation to his wedding while spending all the time alone in his solar. It had not occurred to him while the actual wedding was taking place, but there was naught he could do about that except hope they were pleased with the feast and music he prepared to forget it.

Marianne yanked her hand from Ferdinand’s. William, recognizing her heated glare, stepped in. He was not sure of her ability to calm a pack of wolves but did not want to risk that she said something unpleasant.

With a tenderness that surprised him, he slid his arm around her and pulled her possessively close. She did not fight him.

“‘Twas a hasty decision, aye, and one that my bride and I have both regretted since our first kiss as man and wife.” He brought her hand to his lips to emphasize his point, pleased with her flushed cheeks.

That color had naught to do with any feelings she might hold for him, but her humiliation worked in his favor regardless. “However, since Marianne was unable to wait on a set date and for invitations to be sent and answered, she talked me into having our wedding in a small chapel sooner than expected. I hope you all accept my apology and be merry with food and drink on this wonderful occasion.”

Nearly everyone’s face softened. Anne embraced William. “I forgive you, cousin. I am glad you found another wife and will bear ye no grudge.” She embraced Marianne with the same vigor. “You and I shall be the best of friends. We shall have to be if we’re to survive being wed to these men.”

William had trouble containing his laughter, as did the rest of the men in the room it appeared, including John, who enjoyed his wife’s humor only when it was crude.

William was warmed from the inside out. When Anne said she bore him no grudge with such a smile on her face William knew she told the truth.

He looked at Marianne, who gently put her arms around the smaller woman and stared at him, baffled and face alight with pleasure, before turning her attention back to her new cousin.

He laughed harder at the expression on her face, only to become somber again when he saw that Ferdinand had slipped away without notice.

***

Marianne could hardly believe her ears. Between Lady Anne’s insinuations and Lord Gray’s explanation she would not have been shocked if someone told her that her face matched her hair.

The nerve of him! To put the blame entirely on her for their hasty wedding and embarrass her in front of all her new relatives. She wanted to claw at him.

Still, she was aware that he could have said less than respectable things about her. The fact that he was even speaking on her behalf made her angry all over again, but she was a married woman, and he her husband, which meant there was naught she could do but let him. For now.

If Lady Anne could have so much freedom then Marianne would soon have the same.

William clapped his hands and stole everyone’s attention. “Now, to the feast! Be merry because tonight we all celebrate!”

Marianne barely managed to endure the celebration without bursting into tears. Her nerves were so tight that her hands shook with the strain as a new fear laced through her.

What should she do if an argument broke out? If someone complained about their seating arrangements? She had not planned this event, nor had she ever since her father never found a need to have guests.

The fear would not leave her once it came, and she could only be grateful that sir Ferdinand was no longer within sight. The dancing, laughing, and music did naught to raise her spirits either, and being forced to dance with every male member of the party had been just as horrifying as each one asked questions she had trouble answering.

What did she really know about Lord Gray? What could she say to explain a hasty wedding that would not turn her into a deceiver? That her marriage was based on a real contract and not one of her vengeful whims.

Marianne had yet to be introduced to Blaise. She hardly knew what she would do when she finally came face to face with him. She prayed that event would not be for some time now. In fact, she should have met him already. But there had been no mention of him at all.

She openly sighed when William finally took her hand and stole her away from everyone. She forgot all about Blaise when his hands clasped her shoulders, kneading the tension in her muscles to a calm warmth with his knuckles.

With little force, he used this method and turned her about and led her out of the main hall and into the darkness of the castle.

Though she was far too relaxed and exhausted from her journey to care that the night was still young, she could not help but ask. “Will we not wish the guests a good night?”

His fingers rubbed her lower neck, his thumbs pressing into her shoulder blades through her gown in a way that had her fully alert again. “Nay, I think not. I want no interruptions tonight.”

His mouth closed in on her ear. Marianne quivered with his words that filled her with promise, his hands sending a tingle through her gown that was not entirely unpleasant. “No delay, and no one shall bother to look for us as they are so occupied with their dancing and ale.”

His words were reassuring, but when the heavy oak door to his, nay, their chamber shut and locked behind her, she found herself terrified to immobility.

She stood in her husband’s chamber, her chamber now as well, one of the few places the lord and lady of the castle could find some privacy, and she was frightened.

She did not wish for privacy. She knew where it would lead.

The fire had been prepared for them and the chamber was warm and inviting. He had planned this. He had planned to lure her away from the guests unnoticed so he might have her without any drunken men or snooping women trying to interrupt.

She supposed she had to be grateful that he offered her at least that.

Thick, sweet smelling rushes welcomed her feet. The bed was large enough for the two of them and then some. It was naught like her small room back at Holton manor.

‘Twas another reminder that she was the mistress of this castle now.

Naught was the same, nor would anything ever be. This castle even felt different to her. Everything she touched was foreign to her fingers, and it made them itch with longing for her own bed.But this was her bed now, and she was expected to share it.

The tension melted from her shoulders when William caressed and massaged them, again using his touch to force her guard down. Damn her weak flesh she could not help the useless moan of satisfaction with the way he eased the stress from her shoulders.

His lips touched her ear. “Thank you,”

Her eyes snapped open but she did not turn to look at him.

“For what?”

“For not making it public knowledge that you forced me to wed you.”

“You could easily have ruined my reputation today, as well,”

He sighed, and Marianne could not tell if he thought the idea to be a pleasurable one or not. “‘Tis true, but to do so would have brought me down to ruin with you.”

She flinched again. So his actions had naught to do with preserving her feelings. So be it. She was in his chamber now, and she knew what was expected of her. Though she was not sure if she could easily give him what he wanted.

She had feared it from the start of this whole mistake, knowing that she would be required to give her body to her husband. Her nervousness intensified into something far more frightening than she had imagined when the ladies downstairs gathered around her to give their praise and, in the cases of the soon-to-be-wed, awkwardly ask questions on what to expect themselves.

They thought she had been deflowered already and knew the ways of the bed. And why wouldn’t they? She’d been married for two weeks. What bride went so long without knowing the touch of her husband?

But she did not know it; the mere thought of it brought a fresh wave of heated embarrassment to her cheeks. When the younger girls asked her questions she could not answer, she could do naught but blush and refrain from answering, claiming it to be too unladylike a topic.

By the end they had all assumed her to be a prudish shrew.

Marianne groaned.

William kissed her neck. She had not realized he had come so close and she shrieked and leapt away from him, bounding across the bed and landing on the other side, using it as a barrier between them.

His eyes were wide with shock. “What is this?”

“We can end it,” Marianne said. “we do not have to do this. You can have your freedom from me. Send me home and keep the chest with the money, for all I care.”

Chapter Four

“End it? ‘Tis impossible.”

He was laughing at her! The nerve of him! She was perfectly serious!

She clenched her hands in his bed sheets and tightened her jaw. She would be taken seriously. “Nay, we could do it. I am not truly your wife until the marriage has been…” she blushed and plowed on. “…consummated. We can petition for an annulment.”

William stopped his chuckling and folded his arms. Marianne did not know what to make of his stance until he spoke.

“You are more simple minded than the average female.”

“What?”

“We both swore in front of a houseful of guests that you and I have been one already. How would we explain such a thing to them? Without ruining my reputation,” he added when she tried to speak up.

Marianne chewed her bottom lip. He was right. Everyone on the bottom floor already thought they had consummated the marriage and would likely not believe otherwise even if told so.

She thought of allowing him to question her virtue, but that would not work either since everyone assumed she had given it to him weeks ago.

She clutched the bed sheets tighter, wishing for a solution to present itself, but none came.

He watched her with his piercing eyes, waiting to see what she would do to bring a solution to their problem.

She pounded the bed. “But can you not see how wrong this is? You would only be using me to disperse of your anger,” she accused, her voice high pitched, hoping to stall what was to come. “You are vengeful and ‘tis disgusting!”

He shrugged. “Aye, ‘tis true.”

Marianne gasped and stepped back. “You admit it!”

“Of course I do!” He roared, coming forth but not passing the bed she hid behind. “Why should I cater to your emotions after you put us into this position? And even if the possibility of an annulment was still available to us, I would not allow you to have one even if you had not been so reckless, and foolish, and stupid as to kidnap the wrong man!”

A swelling ache built in her chest and rose up painfully, and Marianne put her hand to her throat to ease the building lump.

This was not what she wanted. She walked away from Ferdinand and into something just as horrible. Why was she such a fool?

William knew she had naught to give, nor any other excuses, but she would not surrender.

“I refuse,”

“Refuse?” His face exploded in red, fists clenched and shook at his sides.

Marianne watched, mixed fascination and fear as his veins popped up around his forehead and neck. She stepped back.

“Nonsense! I am your husband and you my wife. ‘Tis my right to demand this of you, and should I wish it I could walk over to where you stand and take you. You would have no one but yourself to blame.”

Marianne wished he were laughing again. That mockery would have been preferable to the anger she had to deal with now.

“You should think very carefully, Marianne,”

She tensed when he used her given name, lacing it with a cold and unforgiving hiss. Whatever patience he had with her had vanished.

He was still not finished with her. “My reputation would suffer incredibly, that much is true, but who would be forgiven for this should the truth raise its head? Myself or you? You are the culprit here and should I turn you out of my house I doubt very much that your father would welcome you back into his. Not for all the gold in the world, I would say.”

Marianne fought tears. The fight only worsened her sore throat and she was certain it gave her a red face.

Why did he have to be so infuriatingly correct? She had no choice in this matter. ‘Twas his right to ask for what was his and sinful that she should deny him, just as it had been sinful for her to disobey her father and Ferdinand and rush behind their backs like that to kidnap herself a husband. And look at the rewards that act bestowed upon her.

***

William took note of the helplessness of her stance as his words sunk in. The loosening of her shoulders and the enlightenment that showed in her face as she realized her defeat.

He knew she would give him what he wanted, but never before had he been brought so low as to force himself on the unwilling. No matter how much the woman in question richly deserved it.

His fists clenched at the thought, and the consequences she would suffer if he went through with such a plan were more than he wished to inflict upon her.

He regretted the anger he displayed to her, his cruel words and the fear he could see in her now. He could not punish her like this.

He crossed to the other side of the bed in two swift strides and lifted her chin. How strange to see it so low when he was used to having her thrust it in the air in that prim way at him.

She was nothing at all like Alice.

Perhaps Marianne’s courage in the church had been an act. A shame, really, since he rather liked her that way. The idea that she could be as mousey as every other woman he had ever met was nearly as infuriating as believing he had been cheated in a dice game without proof.

But then he recalled, only moments earlier bluntly refusing to give him what was rightfully his to take, and he changed his mind.

No, she was a courageous woman, bold and daring. She simply had no place to put it all. Right now, however, her pride had suffered a beating.

Damn if it was not killing him to not take her.

He could not help himself. He kissed her. He had to. He had not touched her like this since the day of their wedding when he forcefully pulled her mouth to his, and he had to experience it again. This time, however, he was sure to keep his touch light, his fingers threading through her hair unthreatening. He didn’t want her springing away on him again.

He was shocked when, after a moment, she moved her lips against his, pressed herself closer and clutched his shoulders for balance. Her mouth parted and he groaned and plunged in. His body readily responded to her and he reminded himself that she only did so because she thought it was what he wished her to do, not what she wanted him to do.

For the second time, he made a decision concerning her that he knew he would likely regret.

He pulled his lips away from her mouth, pleased to see that they were fuller from his kiss and her cheeks were coloring the same shade as her hair, and he could tell ‘twas only the embarrassment that put the color there, not any fear he had caused.

He removed his hands from her and stepped back, relishing her confused eyes, and hands that were still held out to him.

He bowed his head. “Goodnight,”

He spun on his heel and left the room before his lust commanded him to go through with it, no doubt leaving her very confused in his wake.

***

A week passed, and most of the guests had their fill of food, drink, and music before departing for home with both her and William’s blessings.

Marianne still spent every night in William’s chamber, in his bed, waiting with shaking anticipation for him to come and take her. And every night he either slept next to her without so much as laying a little finger on her body, or he disappeared for the night to some mysterious place and she did not see him at all.

It made her strangely angry to think that he was most likely with a mistress, but there was naught she could do to stop or scold him in that respect but to glare at him at the table whenever they took their meals in their chamber.

He never spoke to her except to ask if she found her new living arrangements comfortable. Considering what she had expected of him the night she made Graystone her home, his concern irritated her. On that night he could barely keep his hands, or his anger, to himself. Now he never touched her.

Marianne was grateful for his distance at first, but as time went on it made her horribly lonely. Not for the first time since she had discovered the truth in that old church did she wish she had thought her plan through a little more carefully.

William’s footman, Adam, gave her a tour of her new home, the first she would receive since living at Graystone.

Judging by the healthy complexion and casual form of the tall, dark haired man, Marianne knew that William must be a good master who took excellent care of the needs of his servants.

Perhaps a little too good.

In the week that she’d lived in the castle, Marianne had seen little of anything other than William’s chamber, the great hall, and the gardens. While she saw naught but utter devotion from Adam when he did his chores, the other servants worried her.

Nearly every new morning she awoke to a chilled room. The maid was usually late to light the fire. Often times Marianne found either herself or William, when he bothered to sleep in his own bed, rising to set the logs ablaze. Her food was served cold, the gardens were in a decaying mess of weeds and bugs, and more than once she had walked down the halls to see several men and maids conversing among themselves as if they were the masters of the castle rather than the ones who kept it in fit condition. Some of the same servants she suspected had hid away from the wedding celebration to avoid their work.

Something had to be done, and Marianne wondered if this was the true reason William had agreed to marry her in the first place.

Her own words rang back in her ears, You will be rewarded with a suitable dowry, a woman of age to bear you children and handle the affairs of your home.

It was high time she started acting like she was the Lady of Graystone. She made a mental list of the things that needed to be done, a list she planned on presenting to her husband to prove that, despite their situation, she could show him that their bargain could work.

“These are the stables,” Adam said, leading her inside. The smell of earth and manure scratched her senses, but the stench was not strong enough that she needed to cover her nose. Once Marianne’s eyes adjusted to the dim lighting she saw that despite the condition of the castle, the stables were kept remarkably well.

The dark haired man shifted his feet and looked about as though expecting his master to appear at any moment. “I don’ know if you should be in here, milady.”

Marianne ignored him. Grooms stacked the hay stacked properly, fresh water and grain for the horses had been laid out while the grooms inside brushed the animals. Her eyes found Archer down at the other end of the stables, sitting on a stool under a window and cleaning out one of the horses’ shoes with loyal attention.

Marianne suddenly felt as if she could float away. How happy she was to see him, unhurt and where William said he would be put.

“If I am to be the mistress of this castle then ‘tis time I see what needs to be done.” She lifted the hem of her gown to keep from dirtying them and continued to where Archer sat. Happiness filled her when he looked up at the sound of her voice. How she wanted to speak with him.

He stood when she approached and bowed, but then looked over her shoulder and saw Adam.

Damn! How could she apologize to Archer if William’s footman insisted on following her so closely wherever she went? Before she could steal Adam away to have her tour of the castle, Lord Gray had seen them, pulled her away from Adam and had made clear to her that he wanted no one to know that she had forced him into a marriage. There was not a chance he would have let a servant, even if he was the most loyal servant, know about the condition of their union.

‘Twas foolish for him to have Adam remain so close. The true reason was that he did not want to risk that she might run away.

Regardless, the apology would have to be postponed for later. Perhaps now was the best time to simply speak with him and determine if he remained angry with her, or if his back still stung from her father’s treatment.

When he bowed to her she was pleased with the easy way he did so. Perhaps his back no longer troubled him as much as she thought it did.

“Milady,” Archer greeted her, sparing Adam a nod of his head.

“Archer,” she did not know what to say. What would a gentle-bred lady say to the man hired to keep her horses? She had never had to watch her tongue around him before. He was much more like an older brother than a servant, especially after Reggie’s death.

She could think of nothing to say, and Adam’s presence had naught to do with it. “You look well,”

He nodded. The horse whose shoe he had been cleaning nudged him, and Archer reached a hand up to stroke his muzzle without taking his eyes away from her. “Robert ‘as been keepin’ me busy. Keeps my mind from wanderin’ to…other things.”

Guilt attacked her entire body and clawed her mercilessly from the inside. He referred to his family, the family he had been separated from for protecting her from her father. There was no scorn in his voice, none directed towards her at any rate. Perhaps this meant he would forgive her?

“Yes, the stables are kept much better than the castle. Perhaps I could convince my new husband that ‘twould be more suitable to spend our nights here.”

A ghost of a smile cracked Archer’s miserable lips before disappearing.

Adam cleared his throat. “Naught here has been well kept for quite some time. Master Gray usually has to make his demands known loudly whenever he wishes the stables as clean as this. I too am amazed at the neatness in here. No doubt ‘twas all your doing rather than Robert’s?”

Archer hesitated, eyed Adam carefully, then nodded when he finished judging his character. Marianne could hardly blame him. No one wished to speak ill of their superiors should their words make it back to the person in question.

Marianne blew air out of her mouth. How many of William’s servants were running loose throughout his household? How could he be so cold to her and still allow these people to walk all over him as they seemed prone to do?

Seeing William would have to wait for later. She could not wait to tell him of her plans with his castle. No, she would set her commands in motion now, before the servants knew of his wishes, and let him see that she was as fit to run a household as she claimed.

She straightened her back and reminded herself that she was the lady of the castle. “I would like to see this Robert. If the stables are his business, then he should be in here with Archer and not out doing … whatever he is doing at this time. Where is he?”

Archer hesitated. “I think ‘e is with master Blaise, milady,”

She blinked, unsure of how she should feel about having missed seeing Blaise. After a week she had almost grown to think she would never see him. It appeared he spent much of his time hunting and riding, or hiding in some other part of the castle. “Is that so? Doing what?”

“Riding, most likely,” said Adam. “They do that. ‘Tis the only thing that will get Robert to move ‘is, er, to get ‘im working, milady.”

She tapped her chin, struggling over whether she should await his return or harass the servants into working. “Hmm, when do you expect them back?”

Archer shrugged. “They left some time ago, milady. I ‘xpect they shall return shortly.”

No sooner had the statement left his lips did two horses gallop into the stables before jolting to a heavy halt out of the reach of the sun, kicking up earth and strands of hay.

Marianne’s stomach ached. Even with the dim lighting she knew who it was. With a little warning she might have fled before they arrived, but the doors were blocked and now ‘twas too late.

She dreamed of this confrontation for months, but dearly wished for it to not happen now that he was here. Now she must finally meet Blaise. The man she was supposed to marry and the man that turned her down.

The thought lit a fire of anger in her heaving chest. ‘Twas his fault she was in such an awkward position and she would do well to not forget it!

With the light behind them she could not distinguish the two from each other at first. When they lowered themselves from their horses, the older of the two allowed the grooms to take his horse away while the younger held the reigns tightly. As he approached the light in the windows, Marianne found that if not for the clothes they wore, which clearly stated their differences in station, she still would not be able to tell one from the other. The sight sucked the breath out of her.

Both men were of equal height and hair color, a bright orange only found on the carrots in Marianne’s stew, that met in a small widow’s peak in the center of their foreheads. Both pairs of cheeks were equally spotted with freckles, though they did appear fading on the face of the older man. And one did appear some years older. He was older than William even, though not by many years, with deep lines under his eyes and aging hands.

Marianne saw no laugh lines around his mouth either, and she pondered over what could prevent a servant, who was offered so much freedom, from ever smiling.

For a servant neither his posture nor step was humble, he stood nearly as tall as the young lord riding beside him, though he did keep one hand clasped over the other, as though hiding something.

The younger one must surely be Blaise, but they looked too much alike to not have any blood connection.

Surely Archer had made a mistake. But when the younger one came down from his horse and handed Archer the reigns of the magnificent animal he had been riding, she knew that no mistake had been made.

“See to it he gets watered.” He patted the animal fondly on the neck. “Benedict ran well today.”

Archer bowed. “Aye, Master Blaise.”

“You are Blaise?” The words burst from Marianne’s throat without her permission. She deeply suspected it when she saw them, but ‘twas shocking nonetheless to find it to be true.

He turned a scornful eye to her, his nose upturned in sneer. Then he looked at her red hair before a flicker of recognition dawned. “Yes, and you must be my new stepmother.”

Chapter Five

William slammed his goblet down and poured himself another drink. The celebration of his union had officially ended after only a few more guests needed a gentle push out of his castle gates, apart from Sir Holton, who had slipped away without notice.

Lord Seacliffe and Lady Anne were the only ones to leave early. A disappointment since they were among the few people that William enjoyed having for guests, though, admittedly apart of what made them so enjoyable was that they knew when to leave.

Naturally, other close friends remained and continued celebrating in the now calm great hall.

The grand room had been cleared and only William and his three guests drank at the one long table that had not been removed. The fire burned evenly in the middle of the floor while sewing maids pretended to ignore their conversation as they worked on the spinning wheel and repaired torn clothes.

William paid the sewing maids no mind as he contemplated whether he should reveal his growing displeasure with the topic of his guests conversation.

“Did ye get her with child?” Hugh kept a straight face and looked William in the eyes when he asked his question.

“Of course not, fool!” William clenched his fist around the goblet and struggled to keep from throttling the man with it.

He would gladly have admitted to having yet to touch her, but did not want to give them that information to use against him in this conspiracy of theirs.

Bryce, a man who carried huge muscle on his body, laughed in an open mouthed boom that vibrated the walls. “I’ll wager he went to her father’s and demanded to have her fer himself,” he nudged William suggestively with his overly large elbow. “Didn’t want the boy to have all the fun, did ye?”

William relaxed his hands, sat straighter, but could not keep the ire out of his voice. “Blaise refused her by his own will. I did not have to go around him.”

“I still cannot believe you let him refuse her,” Hugh shook his head and drank from his cup.

William shrugged, he also did not want them knowing that he was unaware of Blaise’s refusal until after it happened, after Marianne wed William instead. “He will marry eventually, it matters not to me.”

As long as Blaise chose someone who could bring some happiness into his angry heart.

Nicholas danced his fingers around the rim of his half full goblet while resting his head on his fist, dark hair fanning his shoulders. He had a look in his equally dark eyes that William recognized. He had women on his mind.

“She is a beautiful lady. I certainly could not blame ye for snatching her like ye did. I would have. Her lovely hair dances around her pale face like fire. Is she a wild thing?”

William’s brows flew to his hairline. “This conversation will end immediately if you are speaking of her skills in the bed.”

Nicholas released his cup and raised his hands, a somber expression on his face. “Nay, do not think so little of me. I was referring to her spirit.”

William said nothing.

She had been a wild thing on the morning he met her, but lately he was not certain of her at all. Then he remembered what Nicholas said before.

“You think Marianne to be beautiful?”

There was no doubt in his mind that he had come to notice her more and more with every day that passed, which made the nights more difficult to bear when he could not bring himself to sleep in the solar. It had not occurred to him that others would notice her as well. William was unsure of how to handle his spurting jealousy.

Nicholas downed the last of his drink and helped himself to another from the jeweled pitcher. The early morning sun shone through the windows, catching the sparkles in the jewels as well as in Nicholas’s eyes. “Ye do not often find a woman with that particular color of hair. I have seen women with hair similar to your son’s, but never blood red like that. It reminds me of the roses from my lady’s garden, an open flame, a—”

William shoved him. “Stop being an idiot. Romantic fool,”

Nicholas ignored the feeble attack and laughed. “‘Tis true! I would wager that should she have been born in time for it, she could have convinced King Edward to never look at Eleanor again.”

“And have his son cease his bed games with Gaveston.” Bryce muttered.

Hugh leaned back in his seat. “There is no proof of that.”

Bryce ignored him. “‘Tis a relief to see you’ve finally wedded again. We worried ye’d die without anymore sons to safeguard your bloodline.”

William nearly sputtered his drink across the table when all three nodded their agreement. He drank some more to disguise it. “My line is perfectly safe! Marianne will have my other sons, there is nothing to fear.”

And she would have them, he told himself, when he managed to woo her into his bed. Despite this happy thought he could not help the twinge of irritability that overcame him with the conversation of bearing children.

He could still remember overhearing his grandfather lecturing his father for not having more sons. When the old man finally left the world William was the one to be spoken to and eyed harshly for not producing any sons quickly enough.

Thank the Lord the man had died before Blaise was born.

Regardless of his words to the contrary, Bryce had to speak up again. “Not safe enough, especially with no battles to go to. Your sword wielding reminds me of a boy swinging a stick. Improvement is what ye need. How will ye defend yer lands and family without it? Sending the boy to do it when you are still capable would not look well.”

William hated the topic of his battle skills even worse than the topic of children, and while it was true he had not picked up his sword in years, he knew perfectly well that he looked better than a boy wielding a stick. “My skills are hardly so poor, and I would never send him to defend land he had yet to inherit.”

Hugh scratched his chin. “Blaise is eighteen already, and he has not married or produced any sons of his own. I would say you were in trouble as well, my friend.”

William poured himself another drink, and wagered he would be good and drunk very soon with the way this conversation kept going in circles. “And what of your son? He is over fifteen and his wife has yet to bare a child.”

Hugh shrugged, unfazed by the attack. It made William want to throw him out of his seat. “The girl is thirteen, I suspect they have yet to consummate the marriage with the way she continues to play with her dolls. Idiot boy plays with her on occasion as well. When they do consummate the marriage they shall have many children. Even if they do not, I have other sons.”

“And this conversation is over.” William said, irritated with himself for not stopping the curious questions of his friends sooner.

Hugh looked pained at the sound of his voice. “Forgive us, we meant no insult.”

William groaned and let his head flop onto the table despite the audience. He was spared from forgiving them of their nosiness when Adam burst through the double doors. Panting like an over-exercised horse.

William stood, but Adam spoke first.

“Milord, yer wife has just had the pleasure of meeting yer son.”

The jaws of all three men fell open when William fled from the room at unnatural speed. The pitcher of wine wobbled when the door slammed behind them. Bryce caught it before it could tilt over.

Not one man stood to follow.

“Should we go with ‘im?” Bryce topped off his goblet and made himself comfortable on the bench.

“I doubt that will be necessary.”

“Aye, he has been struck by a woman of beauty and does not want to share her with the man who would have been her husband. I do not believe our assistance will be appreciated.”

Bryce clenched his large fist. “Ye can quit talking like such a long winded dog. If ye wanted to stay and drink ‘tis all the explanation I’ll be needin’.”

Hugh raised his goblet. “I’ll drink to that.”

***

Marianne stood with her back straight and stared up at Blaise with clenched fists, resisting the need to slap his face.

Blaise was tall, taller than William, but the smirk on his face vanished when he realized his size would do nothing in his favor by way of intimidation.

He turned up his nose at her, a slight shake of his head as he turned his back. “Old pest.”

Marianne saw red. She lunged to claw out the eyes of the person she most hated when arms reached around her belly and pulled her back.

Blaise turned and laughed at her, an open mouthed, loud taunt. Robert smirked from behind his master while pretending to look elsewhere. All reason left her mind as she struggled madly to free herself.

“I will kill you!”

“Then come and kill me, my lady! I am standing right here.” He mocked. As she had mocked William on the morn of their wedding. Blaise stood just beyond the reach of her fingers, fingers that itched to rip his eyes from his skull.

But Marianne could not move one step forward. A large hand covered her mouth and she found herself slammed so roughly onto her feet that her knees gave out and she collapsed on her bottom, knees up and spread apart beneath her gown.

She looked up, expecting to see Archer and intending to reprimand him for treating her so roughly. William’s upside down face glared at her from above.

He bore his teeth at her, his fists clenched and body shaking. “What is the meaning of this savage behavior?”

Marianne’s mouth fell open, horrified that she had been caught. Adam stood behind his master, a sheepish look on his face. She immediately knew that he had gone to fetch her husband to put an end to the brawl that would have occurred while she had been too angry to notice. Archer returned to cleaning out horseshoes without another word from anyone, ignoring everything around him, including Marianne.

“I…I…He insulted me!” She pointed her finger at Blaise’s hateful face, but her eyes did not leave William’s.

To her surprise, William turned, a single brow raised at his son, and the smile melted from Blaise’s lips. “Is that so? What did he say?”

Marianne’s face colored. She could not tell him such things, he would never understand her position, and to mention the comments would only spark more questions. Questions she would be unable to answer.

Her silence prompted his scowl to return. “Enough! You will tell me of this nonsense that has you behaving like an animal or I shall beat it out of you.”

“You cannot even discipline your own servants!” Marianne regretted saying it the moment the words left her lips. She did not wish to test him but her insides still burned from Blaise’s taunts, from today as well as all those months ago in his letters.

Taunts that were much more hurtful than simply, ‘old pest.’

William’s jaw tightened, and his face became the same color as her hair. Without another word he stormed to his son, grabbed a fistful of orange hair on the back of his head and forced Blaise to stand on his toes when his father yanked him upward, which essentially only made Blaise that much taller than William, though he did not retaliate.

“You cannot be taking her side!” Blaise yelled, his eyes comically wide as he stood on his toes with his hands behind his head, as though trying to keep William from pulling out the hairs he held.

Marianne could hardly believe her eyes, but she stamped down any happiness that threatened to rise. She would surely receive her punishment when Blaise was not around to gloat, so she held her tongue.

“I take no one’s side! Your behavior towards my wife is unacceptable and you’ll practice your swordsmanship until sundown for it!”

William released his son and shoved him away. Blaise stumbled but did not disgrace himself like Marianne did when she fell over. Robert went to assist his young lord, the smirk no longer present on his face. Blaise righted himself on his own and glared at his father, the taunting image of his former self a shadow compared to how he stood now.

“Why do you defend her? After what she did to you? She is an embarrassment. I can only be so glad to have prevented my own downfall in tying myself to her as you let her do to you!” Spittle flew from his mouth as he roared Marianne’s disgrace.

Marianne let out a tiny shriek, afraid Blaise would let out more than what William would want Adam or Robert to hear.

She had not known Blaise was made aware of her plot to force him into the marriage, only to capture his father instead. Her humiliation intensified.

Adam cocked his head curiously at Blaise’s angry speech, but Marianne waved her hands and shook her head at him. The topic was not to be discussed. Archer loyally ignored everything around him but his work.

Good man. He would get into William’s good graces soon if he kept it up.

Blaise stormed away and took a new horse, pulling himself into the saddle and riding off. William stood still with a fist clenched, like he wished to strike something. Marianne shrank into herself, hoping not to be noticed.

Instead of lashing out at her, he turned and snatched her wrist, yanking her up and dragging her along. She dreaded their coming confrontation. Even if he did not beat his servants, after her behavior towards him what was to stop him from harming her?

Then a different horror came to her. What if he demanded his marital rights tonight? He graciously allowed her the freedom of denying him the first time, but after the scene she caused what would stop him from doing as he pleased to vent his anger? And what could she do but let him?

Marianne’s face heated. Several servants had probably seen her trying to lunge for their young master. Many more heard it no doubt. What would they say about her on the morn when the gossip spread throughout the entire castle? She promised William a wife, not an animal.

William’s grip on her wrist tightened, bringing her out of her pitiful thoughts.

“He is not to show his face to me unless he comes with an apology for myself and you.”

Marianne’s breath hitched, and though she wished to ask him she could not speak. He was defending her, truly defending her. He did not even know what it was he defended her from.

She looked at him and felt happiness swirling through her, more so than since before she came to his castle. Then he stopped and turned his hard gaze upon her and she felt her blood freeze. They were alone. She raised her nose, ready for whatever he might say or do.

When he smiled at her, a real smile instead of some vicious little grin, she could not decide whether or not she should be more or less frightened.

His grip on her hand softened, and when pulled her forth, she jerked back.

“Where are we going?”

His grip tightened. “Just leave here with me.”

Surprised, she let him lead her into the castle and soon they arrived in their bedchamber. Then she was against the wall.

“You are to never humiliate me like that again. Do I make myself perfectly clear?”

Her temper flared. Back and forth he was with his emotions. She could never read him. “So the next time he decides to provoke me I am to stay as silent as the wind, is that it?”

William raised a brow, and Marianne felt herself falling into his gray eyes. With a start, she realized that she had become accustomed to him, his sharp eyes that cut through her and even the few little silver hairs on his head. She still thought of him as a handsome man, but now he seemed to have more of an effect upon her. She had expected this to happen but certainly not so soon.

She blinked and pinched her wrist, shaking the distracting thoughts from her head. His appeal to the eye made no difference to her circumstances. He would hardly care to know it so she would keep it to herself.

“You and I both know that the wind can hardly be so silent, especially during a storm. So expecting you to stay as ‘silent as the wind’ as you put it, is not expecting much.”

Marianne turned away from him, her face hot. “I suppose not.” But then she did not intend to stay silent. “For a moment, I thought you would strike him,” Although her father had never laid a hand on her for discipline, he held no such restraint regarding her brothers when they were still alive.

William’s kindness shocked her. He could have easily used his power as lord of the castle over his son, and Blaise would have naught to say about it. But he did not.

She wished her brothers had been so lucky.

He ignored her statement and pressed his body closer to hers. Her breath quickened as the heat radiating from him enveloped her as he held her shoulders and lowered his already deep voice. “Pray tell, now that you are calm, what did my son say to evoke such wrath?”

William’s voice slid over her body and wrapped her in a thick blanket. Damn him and damn her useless virgin lust. In the same house with her husband for no more than a fortnight and already she was having thoughts of lying with him, naked in the bed they shared. And where had these thoughts come from? Had she not been frightened of punishment only moments ago?

Virgin or not, she knew what took place between lovers after she accidentally walked in on her servants in the act of love at Holton. The thought of herself and William in such an awkward looking position made her blush, but it also filled her with impatient fire. The servant girl certainly did not seem to mind the attention her lover bestowed upon her.

“I see, he made you a proposition, is that it? You wanted him as your husband once, perhaps he offered to aid you in convincing me to allow you to petition for an annulment in exchange for taking you to his bed, is that it?”

At first she didn’t hear him, but when he finished speaking all good thoughts of him evaporated.

She raised her hand and slapped him. The snap of her hand across his cheek horrified her, and she clenched her hand into a fist to make the tingling disappear, but it only worsened.

She refused to look away from him, to lower her eyes or apologize. Even if she had been seeking an annulment, she would never hope to get it from Blaise. But then, William did not know that.

He looked at her with cold eyes, but did not raise his hand to her like she did to him. “Am I correct?”

She tried to shove him away but he would not be moved. “Of course not!”

“Then what did he say that has you turning red?” He pointed his finger at her nose, as if to show her, her own face, and when her eyes crossed to follow the tip of his finger, he couldn’t help but laugh.

Her eyes uncrossed. “You dare to laugh at me? After you accuse me of having…of having relations with another?”

Blaise had said inappropriate things to her, William was correct in that assumption. But there were many more hurtful things Blaise had said other than the ‘old pest’ comment, and it had naught to do with helping her get the annulment.

William promptly ceased his laughter, but there was a fresh sparkle in his eyes that Marianne found much safer than the angered stare he had presented her with earlier.

“You have said that you are not the lover of my son,” and his eyes turned serious once more, “but are you in love with him?”

“No.” Her answer had been immediate and free of doubt. If he did not believe her she did not know what she would do.

He exhaled deeply. Marianne sensed genuine relief in his sigh. He did not ask her if she was having an affair to be cruel.

Then, without reason she thought of Blaise and his face that was so similar to Robert’s.

She would not ask any questions just now, not while he was warming towards her.

“Good.” He said. “From now on I want you to stay away from him. You two are not to be near each other without an escort.”

“He lives here, am I to have an escort at all times?”

“If that’s what it takes, my dear wife.”

Marianne flinched. He made the word sound like an insult, and her stubborn nature reared its head again. “If you cannot trust me then perhaps we really should petition for an annulment.” She folded her arms.

His fingers grabbed her chin and pulled her forward. He smiled at her now. “I think it very endearing when you thrust that nose of yours in the air.”

Marianne’s whole body heated, and the flesh on her chin where his fingers held her seemed much more sensitive than usual. She rarely received sincere compliments and when she did they went to her head. “Do you truly?”

He nodded. “Truly. ‘Tis endearing how much you think you can intimidate others with that foolish act.”

She pulled her face away and touched her heated cheek with her hand. Willing the flesh to cool, she felt stung. The gleam in his eyes made it clear he was not laughing at her expense.

He stepped away from her, and suddenly he was her lord and not her husband. “Adam will be your escort. I trust him most of all my servants.”

“You would have to. He is the only one of your servants that actually works every day.”

William’s eyes narrowed, and she smirked when he had naught to say, so she continued. “I was making plans for your servants before I was rudely interrupted—”

“Before you decided to brawl with a man like a wild animal after its dinner.”

She clenched her teeth. “But now that we are both here and speaking, I might as well say that your order to keep the servants from obeying me is—”

“Choose your words carefully!”

“Unorthodox, I was going to say. And I wanted to suggest that when I give them orders to stop their miserable slacking, for the good of this castle, you do not go against what I tell them strictly for the sake of your revenge.”

He eyed her carefully. “And which commands would you bestow upon them?”

She shrugged, she was not sure what her exact words would be, but the orders would be clear.

Do your jobs or get out.

“I promised you a wife who can govern your household, I will deliver on that promise, as I always deliver on my promises. ‘Tis simple as that.”

He smiled at her again, that same smile that let her know just how foolish he thought she was.

Marianne inwardly cursed. Would staying the wife of William Gray doom her to be forever at battle with him?

He shook his head, his teeth showing through his grin. “I can see into your mind as you scowl like that, and while I do not think the notion of having one’s servants perform their normal duties daily to be nonsensical, you must bear in mind that they have all had years of practice at being lazy. What makes you think they will obey you?”

Marianne realized too late that she had raised her nose, but she refused to lower it out of embarrassment should he make another mention of it. “They will do as they are told unless they wish to receive a lash.”

His eyes blinked wide and mouth dropped as he swayed under the venom in her threat. She finally got the chance to enjoy a good smirking at his expense.

“However, that can only be done if you do not go against my orders when they come to you.”

William was impressed. Traditional marriage this may not be, it could still hold advantages. “And they will eventually come to me because they will not wish to do as you say. Very well, you may have your way with the servants. Adam will keep me informed of your progress, and should I catch any man or woman not obeying your orders I shall threaten them with your lash as well.”

“My lash?”

He nodded. “Aye. ‘Twould make for quicker results if you and I both threatened the same punishment for not working, yet the servants here already know I have trouble with lashing them, mostly the women. So if you are the one cruel enough to send them to their fates and they believe you capable of it, they should develop better habits soon.”

Should she be grateful for this or not? She should have known by now, he would have to rely on her seeing to the discipline of the castle since none of the servants expected their lord to raise a finger to them.

Again she had to remind herself that she was the lady of the castle. If it had to be done then she would do it. She would get everything back in order even if all the servants despised her by month’s end.

“Very well, but I do not want Adam.”

He cocked a brow and crossed his arms. “And why would that be? You said yourself that he is the only servant capable of working in my house.”

“If I am to have an escort then I want more than a shadow. I would like a woman. ‘Tis lonely here and I would like another woman to speak with.” ‘Twas a flimsy excuse, but ‘twas also true.

“You would resort to mingling with the servants just to satisfy your lack of gossip?”

She straightened her back. “I want someone to talk to.”

“I am your husband, you can talk with me.”

Marianne sighed. He didn’t understand. He pulled her against him before she could say anything to him.

“You forced me to wed you on the belief that I am was son, whom you have never been introduced until today, all just to escape Ferdinand. And you will have me believe that all you wish for is a conversation partner?”

Her heart fluttered when his hands clasped her arms, and she hated her weakness.

He leaned closer and she tensed. Assuming he would kiss her mouth, she fluttered between disappointment and glee when he settled for her jaw instead.

She clasped his shoulders with the intent to push him away, but they stayed where they were, and she allowed him to kiss her.

“How—how did you know about Ferdinand?” Good God her voice cracked.

He spoke between kisses and did not lighten his assault. “Do you take me for a fool? I could see the way that lecher stared at you, at your face.” He kissed her cheek. “At your mouth.” He kissed her mouth, touching her lips with his tongue but not plunging it inside, and Marianne groaned helplessly. “And at your breasts.” He finished by squeezing her breast in his hand. It tingled through her gown, through her breasts, and shot down between her legs.

Whatever it was she was sure it was sinful, but she gasped and leaned into his touch. God save her she liked it.

“I saw all of that,” William kissed her cheek and smirked again, “and your father told me of him.”

“You swine!” Marianne pushed hard and stumbled away from him, humiliated and angry with herself.

He stared as though what he had done had not caused his blood to rush like hers did, still did. She could barely believe her beating heart. How was that possible?

Unexpectedly, he chuckled, and it unnerved her.

She fisted her hands on her hips and prayed he would not notice how she had reacted to him. “Now what is amusing you?”

“‘Tis amusing to know that I truly am an old fool, no matter how I try to deny it.”

“What?”

“Why else would you stage a kidnapping for Blaise? You did not want an old man creating a chill in your bed, and here I am, doing just that. No, you are young and wish to feel the fires of passion, am I correct?”

Marianne swallowed and tried to ignore the pooling heat in her belly. How could he have been so right? Weakly, she nodded her head, and William did the same, bringing his hand up to his chin in thought.

“Very well,” he approached her as he spoke, and she tried to back up only to realize she was still against the wall. “If you want passion I shall give you passion. I shall take you to my bed and ravish you until you were unable to leave. I will give you heated kisses and promises and children.” He stood before her but refrained from touching her. “Is that what you would like?”

She scowled, pushing at him with such a force that this time she succeeded in heaving him away. “No! I do not want your false promises or your body if all you will think of is mindless pleasure! I am not your plaything and never will I be!” She brought her fist down on his shoulder, and he barely flinched under the attack.

***

He grinned a predatory grin. Success! This was the fiery spirit he had met in the church, this was the woman who convinced him with the help of a blade that marriage to her was the correct choice.

Very well. He would play along with her wishes, for now, but soon the time would come when she would not only be willing, but she would leap into his embrace at his call.

“I apologize for the assumption, my dear.”

She bristled at the name and his grin became wider. “But regardless, I shall become more attentive to your needs.”

She eyed him suspiciously, and he got the feeling she believed he was saying one thing but meaning another. “Thank you, milord.”

“Call me by my given name or naught at all, Marianne.”

“Thank you, William.” She said, and he was surprised that there was no venom in her voice.

***

“You may go now. Off to show me what you can do with the servants whom I am incapable of controlling. I shall see to finding you a female escort on the morrow.”

Thinking of how lonely she had been over the last week in William’s castle, Marianne nodded her head gratefully.

He stepped aside for her to leave and she scurried out of the room. Like a frightened child, she admonished herself.

She wondered why she felt like such a fool for turning down his offer to attend to her needs.

Chapter Six

Early the next morn, Marianne shivered awake in her chilly bedchamber, ate another cold breakfast, and felt her anger rising.

This was the end of this nonsense. She would show William that she could deliver on her claim and that she could do it in a timely manner.

She found the serving girl William promised her. Instead of a plump, middle aged woman like she expected, Olma turned out to be a shy little thing, not yet twenty, who could barely stand the sight of her own shadow.

Marianne circled the girl who was to be her companion, tapping her chin thoughtfully when Olma did not so much as look up at her.

What strange behavior in a serving girl. If she were to break such poor habits in the rest of the servants she would have to start with Olma.

“Stand up straight and watch where you are going. You do not wish to walk into a wall, do you?”

“Nay, Milady.”

Olma trembled under Marianne’s hard stare and stern voice.

Be gentle, she reminded herself. She wanted Olma to do her work properly, not scare her half to death.

Marianne lifted the girl’s chin. “You may smile. I am sure you have a pretty smile and it will help me to feel better knowing that my companion is actually listening to what I’m saying.”

Olma’s lips lifted, though she still had trouble keeping her eyes away from her feet. With her pale complexion and light hair the smile did add beauty to her face that no one would otherwise be able to see had Olma continued to point her nose at the floor.

Good, she was getting through to her already. With any luck Mariane would find more maids eager to please and they would help her train the rest of the castle.

Since asking politely did not help with the servants, Marianne loudly made her demands known. She set about to her task with a ferocity she had not known she possessed.

“This pheasant is cold! Send it back up and tell the cooks that if they try to serve their lord one more frozen meal they will be sleeping outside come winter!”

“I want the gardens lush before the month ends or I’ll have someone’s hide! There’s still time to have herbs before the first snow!”

“Look at this! There is so much dirt on this shelf that I can make pictures on it with my finger!”

Marianne expected the servants would attempt to escape the tasks she set out for them. To stall her efforts most moved at the pace of slugs. There were some who were willing to jump at the high pitched screech of their lady, and Marianne worked them first.

She received polite smiles when in the same room as them, but she had Olma to tell her what they really thought of her.

“I do not wish to upset ye, milady, but the others do not like having ye here or the rules ye set out for them. Some of the women say,” she paused to brace herself. “That ye are a…a red haired demoness.”

Olma bobbed quickly and averted her eyes under her headdress as if she thought Marianne would be taking her anger out on her.

Marianne felt her eye twitch, and she reminded herself that she had pressed Olma for this information. “And the men?”

Olma ducked her head further until her chin touched her chest. “I do not speak to the men, milady.”

She forced a gentle smile for the girl. “No, of course not. Thank you. I do appreciate your efforts.”

Along with the cleaning of the rooms and kitchen, hot meals and hard work, Marianne made a habit of ordering daily baths since she first arrived at William’s castle, but she would no longer take cold water from the lake.

The fires were lit, the castle warm and the evening meals were served hot and on time.

She sighed and sank into her haven. She could never bathe every day while in her father’s care, he wanted the servants at his disposal, not hers, but now that she was a lady she could do as she pleased and enjoy the water. Provided she remained near the fire when she got out.

“I must say that I am impressed, Marianne,”

She tensed in the tub when William’s silky voice called to her but did not look up. Olma and the other servant girls scrubbed her back and prepared her gown for the laundress as though he were not there.

And why wouldn’t they? She thought. He was the lord of the castle and she his wife. He had every right to be there if he wished it.

Still, despite his promise to become more attentive to her, he spent most of his nights off doing whatever he did to occupy himself, and she had not been expecting him.

William stepped closer, and when she did face him his glittering eyes matched the smirk on his face. “All of you, leave us.”

The girls scuttled from the room like mice. Marianne was suddenly alone with him, naked in her tub and wishing that at least Olma had stayed. Marianne had been with the girl for barely three days and her desperate need for female companionship had made her love Olma already despite the lack of equal conversation.

Marianne’s muscles twitched as she struggled to keep from covering her chest with her hands. They were visible to him, so close to the water’s surface that her nipples peaked above the water just so. Pretending he could not see them made her feel only a little better, and she dared not adjust how she sat lest he see right through her calm facade.

“Impressed with what, my lo—William?” She quickly corrected herself, swallowing hard and trying to calm her labored breathing.

He stepped closer and knelt next to the tub. The setting sun shone in through the small windows and highlighted his easy posture and expectant smile. The firelight, so close to the tub, made everything seem so much warmer and clearer, including her naked body.

Marianne desperately wished she could throw her robe around herself, but ‘twas across the room on a chair. And suddenly having the tub placed so close to the fireplace did not seem a particularly good idea as she began to feel overheated.

“Why, I am pleased with you, my dear.” He casually dipped his fingers into her bath water, creating tiny ripples when he swirled them close to her exposed breast.

Her face heated, not because of their closeness, but because she was no longer certain if she wanted to deny him what was rightfully his. She had certainly stopped thinking of an annulment.

That reminded her. “I have been meaning to thank you. For not forcing my hand the night I came here. I am thankful for your patience with me. It recently occurred to me that I had yet to make my gratitude known.”

She looked at him. His brows were drawn together. “You believed I would have forced you?”

“You said it yourself that night. ‘Twould have been your right.”

He made a noncommittal sound and looked away.

While he was distracted, Marianne admired his face. No longer did she see the single hairs of silver in his sand colored hair or the small wrinkles under his eyes as a sign of his age, but as distinguished features she began to enjoy, features that would never be found in a man closer to her age, like Blaise.

He would likely look ridiculous when he aged and silver weeded through that orange mop of his.

“Today is Tuesday, do you know what that means?”

Marianne shook her head.

“Tuesday is the day I usually spend with Blaise, supervising his training. I have been out of practice with handling swords and blades as of late, so I tend to let Bryce work with him as long as I am there.”

She nodded. That certainly explained where he went every Tuesday, but did not explain his absence during the nights. The rest of his words came to her, and she puzzled over them.

As lord he should never be out of practice with his weapons. What could bring that about?

William continued, unaware of the question in her head. “Usually I do a little swordplay with the two of them, but today I sent Blaise off for his training alone,”

Marianne lifted a brow and completely forgot about their positions. William was a creature of habit; it was how she managed to track him so easily since he rode the same route every Sunday after church. “Alone?”

He smirked and nodded, like a boy confessing to a sin he did not particularly care about, his fingers still in her bath water. “Aye. As odd as it would seem I went against my normal routine to keep an eye on you.”

She glared and turned away, though the gesture was half-hearted. “I thought I felt someone’s eyes on my back. Olma had me nearly convinced I was going mad.”

His wet finger flitted over her raised nose. “Always in the air.”

Marianne hurriedly lowered her nose, mortified that she had been caught again. This time she could not stop herself from covering her breasts with her arms. She was shocked to find that her nipples had hardened themselves and a spark of sizzling fire lit up under the skin when she touched them.
She shifted her legs and noted that there was a spot that felt swollen somehow, pulsing, in the place where they met in the middle and inside. How was he able to do this to her?

She was desperate to put her mind on other things. “I shall assume that next week you will not be following me around then?”

He nodded and resumed swirling his fingers in her water. “Aye, next week I will train with him.”

“With him? You mean to help him improve.”

William shook his head. His face colored and he forced himself to look her in the eyes. “Nay, you misunderstand. My skills are not what you imagined them to be. I am sorry to tell you that you entered into a marriage with a man with little skill with a sword, or any blade, or any weapon.”

She blinked. To be slightly clumsy with a weapon was one thing, but to have very little skill was another.

From the moment they met, while she had not pictured him furiously wielding swords around, he held an air of power over her, even when on his knees, that made his claim difficult to swallow. Not for the first time she wondered what it had been that made him ignore his studies with a blade.

Just looking at him brought her back to her former state in that church. He held her, pressed her to him, and she felt his strong arms and chest consuming her. While he warned her that his skills were lacking, she had no doubt that his strength left naught to be desired.

Except now she truly desired him. She had for some time if she was to be honest with herself.

They were silent for so long that the sun finished tucking itself away, and the only light and warmth in the room came flickering and crackling from the fireplace. Marianne’s hot bath turned cool, and William was the one who broke their spell. “I realize I have not made good on my promise and would like to rectify the situation.”

She cocked her head. Surely he could not be scheming to get her into his bed? He said it himself that he wanted to give her passion, would she not have to be wild with wanton emotions for that to happen?

Granted, she did want to be in his bed, but at the same time she did not. She was going mad, because no other woman in the land could be subject to such conflicting thoughts.

She put her hands to her forehead to still the spinning. Stop it, stop it, stop it!

“Marianne?”

The water splashed as she lowered her arms, catching his sleeves. “Aye, I apologize my—William, I was lost in thought.”

He gave the dripping material a glance before turning his attention back to her. She recognized the mischievous grin right away. “Your William? I enjoy the sound of that.”

He caressed her jaw and she shivered. That feeling in her breasts and between her legs intensified, the pulsing quickened and she could not calm her breathing. She jerked away from his touch to stop it. But he continued to stare and the pulsing did not vanish.

“You know ‘tis not what I meant.”

“Yes, but I enjoy it nonetheless. Now, to my original topic…”

She cleared her throat, gripped the sides of the tub and stood. Paying no mind to her nudity or the chilling air as she walked, dripping to the chair where her robe lay. She tugged it on and tied it tight. She heard William groan and felt a bubbling satisfaction rise within her.

There was no sin in showing her body to her husband, but was it sinful to enjoy the torment she caused him?

Most likely, but God would forgive her. She had a valid excuse, she was curious about how she affected him and wanted a little revenge for the way he affected her.

“Yes, you should be ashamed for deceiving the lady of the house.” She teased and faced him.

He shifted as though he were uncomfortable and his jaw clenched harder than a stone.

Well, well, well. It seemed she affected him just as much as he did her. The knowledge was an empowering comfort.

He coughed and rubbed his nose. He was trying to prevent her from seeing the flush in his cheeks. “Aye, I have, forgive me. As I said I wish to make amends for my behavior.”

She folded her arms and walked across the room to where her comb lay next to the basin of water. She sat and, as William had sent everyone away, set to work combing her hair. “That sounds promising. You may start by telling me where you go every night that you do not spend in our bed.”

She spared him a glance. He blinked before the confusion in his eyes flashed. “Where I go? My dear, I would almost believe ‘twas jealousy I heard in your voice.”

She looked away, combing her hair with more vigor. “Jealousy? Pray, is there someone I should be jealous of?”

His barking laughter made her turn to him. He nearly doubled over, his face red with delight.

She saw red herself and slammed her hand on the table. “There is someone else!”

Marianne could not explain why she was so angered. ‘Twas not uncommon for the lord of the house to keep a mistress under his roof, and she had barely allowed William to touch her, why would he not seek companionship elsewhere?

She should have predicted it, have prepared herself for the inevitable time when a mistress was confirmed. Instead she flew at him, pounding against his chest, wishing with all her might that she had a weapon to wield against him since he was admittedly so untalented with them.

***

William allowed her to throw her tantrum, though he doubted his laughter eased her wrath. Finally, he wiped the moisture from his eyes before capturing her flailing fists and putting a stop to her petty attacks.

This was not supposed to happen. What had once been thoughts of taking her into his bed and having her with no concern to her own pleasure turned into thoughts of mutual desire. He had no visions that she could love him, but he did have vivid dreams of having her make love to him with her entire body and soul, willingly coming into their bed and giving herself to him while he showed her how to please a man and how he could please her in return.

He was not certain when it happened, but he knew that the need to humiliate and hurt her began causing an ache in his chest that reminded him of what it was like to truly care for a woman’s wellbeing. Something he had not felt in many years. He no longer wished to emotionally harm her for his own pride, but that wish also made him see that he did not wish unhappiness upon her either.

But young women did not love old men like him—he was nearing thirty-seven already—but he remained confident Marianne could become affectionate to him. Perhaps this spectacle of hers was proof of that.

“Nay my dear, as much as your fury amuses me I cannot say that I have been keeping a mistress since your arrival.”

Her eye twitched and fists remained clenched, she tried to pull away but he refused to release her, an act that angered her further.

She yanked her wrists with more strength and he let her free. “So you do have a former lover in this household.” ‘Twas not a question.

William sighed. “Whether or not I have kept a mistress is none of your concern. But I am no longer entertaining her.”

“What is her name?”

“Why?”

“I wish to drown her.”

William laughed again.

Marianne stamped her foot again. “There is nothing amusing about this!”

She tried to strike him again but again he captured her wrists and, despite her struggles, continued to laugh.

Marianne could only fight and fume until he abruptly pulled her chest to his. “This is why I agreed to wed you,”

Her eyes searched his for some island of sense in the sea of her confusion. “What are you speaking of? You agreed to wed me because I had Archer put a blade to your throat.”

“Nay, I agreed to take you as my wife because I love your spirit.”

Her body went lax at his claim, then, just as quickly, she tried to push away from him, her fury returning full force. “You’re mad!”

“Be that as it may,” he released one of her wrists and slid his arm around her waist, pulling her hips closer to his. “I enjoy it.”

He also enjoyed touching her and could feel her through the clinging fabric of her damp robe. ‘Twould be easy to remove it, and while he would not do anything harmful to her, ‘twould also be a simple matter of making her want him. She was young and inexperienced, a little patience on his part and she would beg him to take her.

As if suddenly aware of how loose her robe was becoming with their strange dance, her hair dripping onto his dry clothes, Marianne tensed.

“You are getting wet.” She said.

He dipped his mouth to her ear. “I hardly care.”

“Why?” She asked, swallowing as the hot breath brought a shiver and gooseflesh to every inch of her skin.

His mouth did not leave her ear, and she could scarcely stand while his roaming hands discovered every mound on her body. “Why do I not care for my clothes?”

“No! Why are you behaving like this?”

He removed his mouth from her tingling ear but his face remained close to hers, and even though he loosened his grip on her she made no attempt to escape.

“I seemed to have taken a liking to brash women,” He released her other wrist and trailed a finger down the opening of her robe, exposing her breast to the chill air.

He doubted the cold air had anything to do with its pleasing peak.

She could have lifted her hand to slap his fingers away, but he knew she wanted to see where those roaming fingers would lead her. ‘Twould not take much to show her.

Apparently satisfied that she would put up no fight, he slid a finger under, over, and around her bare breast before teasing the nub peaking at the center with his thumb.

Her feet swayed and breath hitched, and William smiled.

Her eyes drifted shut, there was not a thought in her head now.

He stepped closer, his other hand sliding across the smooth skin hidden beneath her robe. For a moment he was so focused on the sensation of her against his fingertips that her rambling words did not reach his ears.

When they did he covered her mouth with his, because she was not speaking at all, but was moaning under his touch.

***

Marianne did not know what was happening to her but she liked it and did not wish it to stop. The swelling between her legs returned and the pulsing became the throbbing heartbeat that kept her breathing, kept her alive.

All she wanted was for him to continue inflicting this wonderful torture on her. When she felt this good she could not find blame to place on him for wishing her to his bed if he would feel only a fraction of what he was causing her to feel.

Blindly she threw her arms around his neck and welcomed his tongue into her mouth when he kissed her.

It felt different from the last time his tongue visited her in that church, and not in the unpleasant surprise way it had been before either. ‘Twas soft and warm and wet, and she found herself enjoying having it touch her own tongue and moving against hers.

When he pulled his mouth away she was coherent enough to open her eyes and feel the hand that had once been teasing, now gripping the whole of her breast.

“Is this what you meant when you wanted to apologize for not seeing to your promise?” She asked, a hint of a smile at her lips.

“Not quite, but it will do for me if it will for you.” He pressed himself closer to her, and she felt the hardness at his thigh.

Like the crack of a whip her body, which was once so full of wanting and lust she thought she would overflow, suddenly became tense with fear.

She could not do this.

William saw the look on her face and he too was pulled from the lusty fantasy. “You do not approve?”

She tried to back away but could not, and he refused to move and give her any space.

Marianne clutched his shoulders. She could not look him in the eye. He was her husband and she his wife. ‘Twas nothing wrong with what he wished to do to her, what she had nearly wanted him to do to her, yet she could not bring herself to allow it. “You do not love me,”

He professed to love not her but her brash spirit and reckless behavior. The very thing her father had been trying to stamp out of her for as long as she could remember. ‘Twas not good enough.

William opened his mouth to reply, then shut it just as quickly. He said nothing.

Marianne pushed away from him, righting her robe as she moved as far away from him as possible before she grabbed the comb and returned to furiously combing out her knotted wet hair.

His words, especially the words not said, were like a blow. She could not bring herself to look at him. And even while she sat on the other side of the room, pretending to focus solely on her hair, he still would not speak, and somehow the silence was worse than if he had decided to rage around the room for her teasing treatment of him.

She enjoyed his touch, and she enjoyed his voice when he took the time to speak to her, but if he did not love her then what would their act of loving each other really be but emotionless fornication?

She was lonely, but not that lonely.

She tensed when his hands found her shoulders, she had not realized that he was nearing her. Unlike their first night under the same roof, she did not scream and leap away when he kissed her neck. The act was so tender she could almost trick herself into believing that he did hold feelings for her.

“We will share a bed, but tonight will be the last night that I do not make you mine. Tomorrow we shall eat our breakfast together, and after I see to my own responsibilities we can talk privately if you wish.”

She swallowed. One day to try to make him love her? ‘Twas impossible.

“Talk. About what?”

He rubbed her shoulders. “It matters not to me. We can discuss anything you like.”

Marianne put away her comb and thought it over. It was an opportunity to get to know him as more than just the Earl of Graystone and the husband she occasionally saw, but as the man who defended her against her father and kept his promise when he did not have to.

She would at least know who would bed her tomorrow night. Perhaps that man would even be her friend. He was being generous with her, he could have offered her much less. He could give her nothing but misery. He could take her right now.

“Very well, that sounds acceptable.” She nearly winced with her words. How formal she sounded to her own husband.

“Good,” He replied.

Marianne heard the shuffling of clothes and turned around, only to cover her eyes and spin in the other direction.

“You’re naked!”

“Yes, I am preparing for bed.”

“But, but—”

“We are husband and wife, and I am growing weary of sleeping in my night clothes. Stop being cowardly and look at me.”

With a spine so stiff she thought it would crack, Marianne turned around and did look. She would not allow him to call her a coward.

She refused to look below his neck and kept her eyes on his face, however. The swine was smirking again, but he didn’t move.

He was waiting.

Without meaning to or with her consent, her eyes traveled downwards.

The light of the fire, the only source of light, danced across his body and bathed him in an orange glow. She could see every ripple of muscle and every light colored hair curling on his chest. Thin, faded scars from past battles and training games crisscrossed in random places along his naked skin, and the water that seeped through his clothes now glistened against his chest in the firelight.

The sight made her smile with the simplicity of it. ‘Twas nothing horrifying hidden under his clothes, nothing that should cause her to fear.

Aside from the organ between his legs—which she refused to look at—and the lack of large breasts, he was rather similar to herself. Arms, legs, knees, and toes. Nothing frightening.

Marianne relaxed her body. There was no sin in this. She was simply looking at the chest of a man who happened to be her husband. No sin at all.

The golden hair on his chest circled his dark nipples before traveling down into a fine trail that led to his—

Marianne looked away again, heat flooding her face to the point that she thought she would sweat blood. At his amused chuckle she returned her eyes to their former position, though the heat still assaulted her face.

Not a coward. She was not a coward.

The blond hairs became darker, though not as dark as she was down there, and within them nestled his … Marianne was unsure of how to describe it. It was simply there. Never before had she seen that area of a man, or any naked area of a man. Even when she walked in on the servants loving they were always fully clothed, and while her inexperience prevented her from deciding whether or not she liked what she saw, she knew that she would have to get used to that part of him as well, and soon.

The hair became light again as it traveled down his legs, legs that were so much larger than hers, skin stretched with muscle, his feet alone were frightening in their size.

Her eyes traveled over him again, quicker this time, and suddenly she felt as though she were not getting the entire portrait.

“Turn around,”

He raised a brow. “You wish me to bare my back to you?”

“Aye,”

“May I ask why?”

The heat that had fled her face when she accustomed herself to his body returned with fever. She could not explain why she wanted to see his other side, but ‘twas an urge that would not be ignored.

Her spine stiffened as she fought back the irritation that threatened to bubble to the surface. If he was so eager for her to see him naked then what was his business in making her feel awkward for wishing to see all of him?

She was at a loss for words when William shook his head and did as she bid. “Very well, I never knew women to be interested in that part of a man’s anatomy.”

“Perhaps you have as much to learn as I.”

She meant naught by the words, but his curt reply awoke her curiosity.

“Perhaps,”

She ignored him. The sight of his bare back and bottom made her salivate and forget any previous indignation. Oh yes, she enjoyed this part of his anatomy very much.

“Do you like it?”

“Aye,” She immediately said, unable to keep herself from staring.

“Good,” abruptly he turned and Marianne was unable to fight back her gasp of horror. She had yet to finish with him!

“Because ‘tis now my turn to see you,”

She clutched her robe tighter to herself. “Me? But you have already seen all there is to see.”

He shook his head, invaded her by standing so close for what seemed to be the one hundredth time that day and pulled her close. “Nay, I have only felt you, and not all of you at that. I would like to see what I have been touching under your robe and through your gown all this time.”

Chapter Seven

William hardly knew how he survived the night without losing control and grabbing her, pulling her to him and taking her like his desperation demanded. Though he held himself back for a reason he hardly recalled, today he kept a close eye on the hips of his wife as she walked around the gardens.

He promised her this time and he would make good on his word, no matter how wonderfully difficult the sizzling between his legs made it.

He acknowledged the improvements in the herbs and vegetables but they remained behind his current thoughts, visions of her standing naked before him dominated him.

She had turned red last night while he watched. He kept one hand on his chin as if he studied some piece of art to be purchased. To her credit, she did not flinch from his eyes or shriek at him when he commanded her to turn around so that he might see her backside like she had commanded him.

When he saw her rounded bottom, he knew what it was that she had been so fixated on when she looked at him, though he doubted he was as pleasing to the eye.

She faced him again, her eyes widening comically at his cockstand. He did not try to hide it. Like always, she raised her nose to greet the air at their silent challenge.

Delight burst brightly inside him, like the sun shooting through an open window when she did not leap away when he touched her smooth shoulder. The same shoulder he’d kissed on her first night in his chamber. He kissed her mouth and her shoulder twice since that incident, and decided then that she was no longer at risk of flying off her feet when he touched her.

His fingers slid down to her breast and touched her budding nipple. He had sighed his pleasure with her small gasp. Heat radiated from her body and towards his, feeding a carnal desire that only grew hungrier. His fingers cupped her chin, traveled up the smooth flesh of her cheek and threaded her hair. Her hands braved their way up his chest, her own smaller fingers curiously tangling into the rough hair of his chest.

He was rock hard, had not realized his breathing had become labored until he tried to calm it. His eyes left her fingers and found her grey orbs. Standing so close, he found flecks of blue hidden within, like sky trying to break free from the storm clouds.

He smirked at the fitting description. She too tried had to break free. Indeed, she’d staged his kidnapping to break her father and Ferdinand.

He looked at her face, which glowed with building lust under his touch. No trace foreshadowed the passion he wanted her to feel. Passion for him.

He’d just admitted to not loving her, and he knew where she stood on that subject. If he were to build her lust higher and higher only to take her, she would surely hate him when her wits returned from their holiday between her legs. He did not want that, the very thought brought a sinking feeling into his chest.

William was going to have her. Soon. That had already been decided for the both of them the day he first laid eyes on his infuriated wife. Yet, he was a knight, and he would honor his word. Ah, but when he did have her, she would purr in contentment when the loving was over.

Anger flared from within, directed at himself. Any man could touch her like that and the reaction would be exactly the same. She did not want him, and when he stepped away from her, reached for his clothes and dressed, her face twisted in horror.

As if suddenly aware of her nudity, she covered her breasts with her hands, searched for her robe on the floor and snatched it to cover the rest of her. “What are you doing?”

He could not bring himself to look at her. He had believed that if he so much as glanced in her direction he would abandon his wits and do something they would later regret.

He dressed with little concern for his appearance and thought of a lie. “‘Tis late, and there is still much work to be done. Tomorrow you will show me these improvements you have made and, as promised, we shall spend time together.”

“Oh.”

The small sound startled him, and despite himself he looked at her, though she refused to look back. “Are you displeased?”

She shook her head, clutching her robe around herself with both hands. “Nay, ‘tis just that…”

He waited, but she seemed unable to say anything. He left her so that he might sleep painfully in his solar. As sleepless hours crept by, he reminded himself that if he was patient, their loving would be so much more than a night of lust. She would be his forever, just as she had made him hers on their wedding day.

“My lord?”

William shook his head, clearing his thoughts and returning to the garden. How could she keep her reactions so polite and calm when he could think of naught else but her pliant skin? He envied her.

“Forgive me, you were saying?”

“I asked you of your morning meal.” She huffed, her arms crossed.

The sight brought a twitch to his lips, and he crossed his own arms in mocking fun. “It was served on time and hot. You are a much better chatelaine than I would have thought.”

“You thought I would not be?”

He shook his head. “Again, forgive me, but on the day you vowed to see to the affairs of my household, ‘twas difficult to…” He thought of the proper words to use without harming her feelings, but none would come.

Her arms clenching tighter around her bosom, narrowed eyes told him that she had supplied words of her own. “Take my claim seriously?”

He chuckled. “With your temper ‘tis not easy to take any part of you seriously.”

Her body shook, face set in a deep scowl, like she would burst with rage, and he waited eagerly to see if such a thing were possible. To his surprise, she laughed.

He stood as rigid as a tree, unsure of how to react until she turned her back and walked to the stables.

He followed, irritated that she could turn her back on him and curious all the same. He caught up to her and turned so that he was at a backwards trot ahead of her. “What do you find so amusing?”

Her bright smile nearly turned his foul mood around. Nearly. How had she managed to twist things about like this?

“Do you really think me such a fool that I cannot see when you enjoy my torment?”

He stopped abruptly, then caught up to her again. His eyes narrowed suspiciously. “I enjoy no one’s torment.”

She nodded in agreement. “Nay, only mine. I have seen through you now and know that the only way to deny you your pleasure is to pretend your taunts do not exist.”

His blood ran still before burning hot. “I refuse to allow you to ignore me!”

If his strange backwards movements had not caught the attention of the working servants then his outburst had. So he did the only thing a lord in his position could do to prevent further humiliation: pretended they were not there and continued as he was.

Then she put an end to his embarrassment, stopped and smiled her sweetest smile. William stopped and was alert to her strange behavior. Her lips made that same shape the night of their marriage celebration, and he had not been sure of what to make of it then either.

She came forth and touched his cheek with her finger, just carefully sliding her nail across his flesh.

“Do not fear, dear husband of mine, I shan’t deny you the pleasure of my company or conversation, but you must know that from now on your words will have no affect on me.”

William’s face went cold. He would have no affect on her? He would see about that, and tonight she would know the foolishness of her words.

He grabbed her hand and kissed her palm before she could move away, his gaze meeting hers and pleased with the shock he found there. “I must warn you that I adore challenges.”

The heat in her cheeks was well worth the effort, but she snatched her hand back and walked away.

They moved towards the stables, and Marianne pointed to the servants who scurried to do their chores when she came near. “I’ll wager you saw no behavior like this in them before.”

He shook his head, watching them with apt fascination as women rounded corners with their laundry, the men and boys cleaned and repaired blades, and herded chickens with a dedication that bordered on fear. Having had plenty of opportunities to listen to his wife screeching at the lazier of the servants, William knew what it was that they haunted them.

He had to admit that he did like the improvement.

Marianne spoke before they entered the stable. “When was the last time you were here?”

His eyebrow raised at her.

She corrected herself with a flush on her cheeks. “I meant, before Blaise and I…before you and he…”

He couldn’t help the smirk tugging at his lips. “Perhaps you are correct when you say that my words will not affect you. It seems I do not have to say anything at all for you to be at a loss for words of your own.”

***

Marianne envisioned throwing him into a large pile of horse manure, but due to Archer’s hard work, none could be found.

Her foot itched to stamp the ground, but she held it in check. “Forget about that! Tell me of the last time you were here!”

William shrugged. “Sometime before you arrived, I would say. I still ride Benedict and check to ensure that he is not sleeping in filth.”

She smiled. Perfect, ‘twas perfect. “Wonderful, because when Blaise was here you had no chance to appreciate how clean the stalls have become.”

“And you knew of its condition before hand?”

“Adam told me, now come see.” She grabbed his arm and pulled him in. He would see Archer’s hard work and praise the poor man if it was the last thing he did.

The smell of horses, fresh earth, and hay was stronger inside but not putrid. A natural earthy scent wafted from the clean stalls. It took a moment for Marianne’s eyes to adjust to the lighting, but when they did she could clearly see that Archer was not to be found here today, as well as the approval on William’s expression. His eyes were wide and searching as though he had never seen the inside of his own stables.

Her heart pounded, eager pleasure filling and bubbling within. “You are pleased?”

“Can you see me clutching my nose to hold off the smell? Of course I’m pleased.” He took a step forward and laughed. “I can move without stepping into horse manure!”

Her eager hope for praise for Archer was replaced with a troubling curiosity. Could such a simple thing be the cause for William’s pleasure? It should have been granted to him without the need to ask. ‘Twas the reason he, and every other lord, employed servants. Yet there he was, reveling in the cleanliness of the stables in a manner he had not shown when she pointed out the gardens to him.

Again she wondered why he had neglected his duties, and to ignore them to the point where his own animals were kept in filth until he himself inspected their condition.

He went to a stall farther down the aisle, passing the grooms who went about their own business, and found it empty.

“Where is Benedict?”

“Who? Ah, yes, your horse.”

William waved his hands in the space before him. “Aye. This is his stall and he is not here. Blaise knows I do not wish him to ride my horse without my permission, where is he?”

Marianne honestly did not know where his horse had been placed, and Robert and Archer were nowhere to be found to ask.

“You prize the animal?”

William nodded. “Aye.”

“I imagine Archer is allowing some of the horses to have their neglected exercise.”

He glared at her, and though she regretted his anger she did not mourn her words.

“My dear, while the laziness of my sewing maids and grooms is highly questionable, I have always seen to the care of my beasts.”

Before Marianne could apologize Archer ran inside, panting heavily.

He went to Marianne, but when his eyes found his lord standing farther down the stables he straightened his spine and controlled his breathing, though he could do little more but wipe the dripping moisture from his forehead and nothing about the bright red heating his cheeks.

“My lord, milady, sir Guy Alan Holton is on his way.”

Marianne’s breath stopped in her throat. Her father? Here? To what purpose? She had all but assumed she had been disowned by the man when he left the wedding celebration without so much as bidding her farewell. Now he was unexpectedly on his way. When she remembered to suck air into her tightening lungs her heart thrashed in her chest.

William came into the light. “When is he expected?”

A loud whinny answered his question and Archer and several other grooms ran to pull the doors open wider for the animals.

Three horses, old, thin, and panting for breath trotted into the stables with two mules pulling a rickety cart with few items tied to it.

Despite her humiliation and his previous angry words at their last meeting, she could not help the excitement building in her chest, or the way her hands clasped each other tightly when the horses stopped just in front of her and William.

Holton looked down at her, found her eyes and smiled the warmest smile he had ever given her.

Clovis, one of the men she had hired to help her abduct William, hopped down from his own tired horse and bowed low to them, keeping his face pointed at his feet. He did not straighten his back. “Milord, Milady.”

William’s smug smile told her that he recognized Clovis, and he delayed permission for the man to stand.

Marianne imagined he played out the irony of the switch in their positions now that William was no longer being held at his mercy in a church.

William stood rocking from heal to toe, scratching his chin as though thinking of the most proper greeting to fit the circumstances.

The grin did not leave his lips or eyes. Marianne cleared her throat. He had enough fun torturing the poor man.

William eyed her as though he very nearly forgot her presence. With a slight roll of his eyes, he spoke.

“Stand straighter.”

Clovis’s neck rolled as he swallowed deeply before doing as he bid, and William, having decided he was not finished with the man, smirked again.

“Greetings, my old, buck-toothed friend.”

Clovis paled and averted his eyes. Marianne cast him a sympathetic glance but he would not look at her either.

Marianne stood closer to William and took his wrist without thinking.

“Remember your promise.” She was nearly ashamed of how desperate she sounded to her own ears.

“I have not forgotten it.” He replied without looking at her.

Despite his reassurance she did not feel any better.

Sir Holton, seemingly tired of being ignored, stepped down from his horse. He stretched, popping bones in his back and appeared nowhere near as surly as when she had last seen him. He wore clothing that was badly aged and frayed near his underarms.

She puzzled over why he would wear such faded garments when he loudly insisted on dressing in the finest robes they owned on the day they were to formally present themselves to William.

He dusted himself, though he had no dust on him, and came with his arms outstretched and embraced her tightly, the first time in years.

“‘Tis a blessing to see your lovely face again, my sweet child.”

Marianne froze, not just due to his strange words but also his touch. Uncertainty ran through her veins. She felt William’s eyes on the back of her head, silently demanding answers she was unable to give.

Her father stood silent for less than a moment before he squeezed her. “Do I need to coax my own daughter into holding me back?”

The question was so light hearted and wonderful that she did just that and nearly burst into tears.

“You are not angry with me?”

He stroked her back with tender affection. “No, dearest. I was a fool, and I have missed you.” He held her at arm’s length. “You look so like your mother, I can tell I left you in good hands. I hope to stay so that I might make it up to you.”

William spoke up. “Stay?”

Marianne did not hear him. “Of course you may stay, for however long you may need.”

“For how long?” William demanded.

Sir Holton grinned broadly and held his daughter close. “Do not fret, milord, I will not be intruding on you for long.”

***

William’s eyes slid shut and he suppressed a defeated moan. The man had answered his question without answering it. And he could not voice his suspicions on Holton now with Marianne looking so delighted at the prospect of having her father stay. He would have to wait until later, until he could speak with the man alone and ask him why he chose to pay a visit to his castle uninvited and without warning.

“I won’t be intruding on you for long.” Could be as much as several weeks. William did not know if he could take having that man under his roof for so long.

Having blood relatives stay for such a long period of time was enough of a problem, but Marianne was so happy at the mere thought that he could hold no rage inside of him that she did not ask for his permission to allow the man to stay.

She offered him as much time as he would like for God’s sake!

No matter, ‘twould seem that if he wanted answers he would have to wait, but not for long.

William turned to Archer. “Find Adam and have a room prepared with warm ale. The sun is out but the air is chilled.”

Holton shivered for emphasis. “Aye, ale would chase away this frost in my chest. Thank you, milord.”

At least, the man did not have the audacity to approach him and put his arm around William’s shoulder again. But hearing him declare that he had left his daughter in good hands, when he most certainly did not care if he left her in the forest, grated on William’s nerves.

William donned a friendly grin usually reserved for Bryce, Nicholas, or Hugh. He did not want to raise Marianne’s suspicions and ruin her happiness. He knew the man really did have the intention of visiting his daughter, but his hasty retreat at the marriage celebration, and his quick return riding an old animal in obvious need of maintenance was too odd for him to ignore.

He glanced at Archer and the other man from Holton House as they settled the old horses into spare stables. They watered and fed the poor beasts who were in no condition to drag anything. William’s suspicions grew.

“Perhaps we might have some ale together, and I might introduce you to a few colleagues of mine, provided that Bryce has not cut off someone’s limb, forcing the others to flee with him.”

William took great pride in watching the bit of skin under Holton’s eye twitch. Even though Bryce was capable of doing so, he would never be as barbaric as to remove someone’s rightful limb. Hugh had stamped such barbaric thoughts out of him years ago. But even still having Bryce nearby to frighten away the pests came in handy.

“Of course, milord.”

***

William brought Holton into his solar for the second time since he married the man’s daughter. Only this time, with as much gentle coaxing as he would have given to an indignant cat, William insisted Marianne remain outside while he spoke with her father.

William poured the ale and stiffly handed Holton his goblet.

He made a great show of accepting it and offering his thanks for the warm drink. Complimenting the taste of the ale that was actually quite bitter, and praising William’s generosity for allowing him to stay for the sake of Marianne.

William could take no more and hissed in a whisper. “I do not for one second believe that my wife has done as I asked and waited elsewhere. No doubt she is outside that door this very moment trying to hear what I have to say to you, so kindly keep quiet.”

Holton’s mouth dropped at being addressed so warmly the one moment and then spoken to like an unwanted stranger the next.

“My lord, I—”

“Kindly explain why you are really here, Holton. I do not take well to deceivers and will make a great show of throwing you out on your arse, whether or not your daughter wants you here, should you keep the truth from me.” William lowered his goblet from behind his writing table and stared at him levelly. Holton’s limbs trembled. “And I shall find the truth.”

Holton lifted the drink to his lips. William doubted he tasted the sour liquid as the man eyed the door behind which his daughter hid.

“Forgive me, milord, but I must inquire as to what leads you to believe I have an ulterior motive for being here? Should a man need one to visit his blood?”

William’s eyes narrowed, fist clenching around his goblet. “You try my patience. You leave the wedding celebration with haste, in your finest clothes and with enough men to guard a small fortune, and now you return posing as the adoring father, riding the most neglected animals I have ever seen with hardly any luggage or men to guard whatever possessions you carry, and in clothes that appear ten years old at that. ‘Tis a miracle you were not robbed. What is the real cause for you to risk yourself like this?”

William meant his question seriously. Even he in his apathy had known to keep his animals in proper condition. Seeing Holton riding into his stable on horses that were better used for the dogs was difficult to swallow.

Holton seemed to understand this and hesitated, thumbing his cup. Finally, having no other lie to present him with he nodded and placed his drink on the table that held the pitcher. He held one shaking hand in another as though preparing to plead for his life. “Before I tell you, might I ask that you take pity on me and not throw me away, for the sake of my daughter.”

William’s eyes became slits. “I have seen the way you handle your daughter and your servants. Do not try to use her to gain what you want!”

William realized too late that he’d raised his voice, so he bit his tongue. He turned towards the door and listened carefully for any sound that might be on the other side. There was no startled gasp, no sound of feminine shoes against the floor. Silence.

He hoped that if Marianne was on the other side that she had not heard him lash out. If there were servants standing out there, hoping to hear a bit of gossip, he would handle it later.

“You will either tell me why you burden me with your presence or I will throw you to the wolves.”

Holton paled and shamefully lowered his head. “I am penniless.”

William was certain he had heard incorrectly. He leaned forward so that he might hear better. “I beg your pardon?”

Holton continued as if he had not heard him. “I have nothing. Nearly everything in my home was stripped away to pay for Marianne’s dowry, I had naught left to pay my debts to Sir Ferdinand. I had to give him my land.”

“Debts? You owed Sir Ferdinand money?” William had not forgotten that Marianne had kidnapped him to be away from that creature, and the truth came to him quickly. “You offered Marianne to him to pay off a debt you owe?”

Again, Holton nodded, and he refused to look William in the eye. He was like a child being reprimanded, and whatever small remaining respect William held for him vanished.

“What sort of debt?”

Holton’s fists clenched under the scrutiny. “Gambling,”

“Good God!” William was not sure what horrified him the most. “You threw away your only daughter to satisfy an unpayable gambling debt?”

Holton finally faced him, his face puffed up and eyebrows drawn together. “What would you have done?”

“Certainly not that.” It explained so much and then much more that he had not noticed the first time.

When he said to Marianne that her father had told him everything that day in their chamber, he lied. What he had assumed had not been half as horrendous as this. “The day you brought them here, Marianne and Archer, you weren’t in a rage because you thought that Archer had tricked your daughter. You whipped him because you knew that without Marianne you had naught with which pay your debt.”

Holton clenched both fists tighter than before, they turned white and shook under the pressure. “That does not make it right! He tricked her into doing something unspeakable! Horribly unspeakable to both you and I, and it cost the both of us dearly!”

“Nay, it has only cost you dearly. If you had married off Marianne to that whoreson, your debt would have been paid and she would be gone, like she was supposed to be since she was thirteen. Perhaps having her out of your care would allow you to wed easier since there would be no one to care for the Holton home, correct?”

“‘Tis Ferdinand’s home now.” Holton muttered hatefully. “All he would allow me to keep were the few things I could pack onto that small cart, two of my oldest mules, the horses and Clovis.”

William resisted the urge to run his fingers through his hair or sigh too loudly. Though baffled, he still wished to hold his position of power over the man.

“Dear Lord, you bet everything with those dice, didn’t you? And now that you are a beggar you cannot even search for a wealthy bride.” William remembered Marianne telling him that the men who aided in his abduction were family men. Clovis and Archer were the only ones in their party to come, and they came alone.

He prayed they did not have beautiful wives. Ferdinand loved beautiful women, regardless of their marital status, but would he lay with women who were beneath him?

Holton had the nerve to glare at him, a bitter thing that held little power in the way of intimidation. “Ferdinand could not just leave it at my land, house, and servants. He had to ruin my good name as well. Within the fortnight everyone knew that I had naught to my name, to ignore letters from me and hide their daughters. If Marianne had just cooperated, I would still have everything, and she would be happily married to a rich man destined to die within a few short years. ‘Twas a good match and she would have been better off with it.”

William stood. A chilling horror staggering up his spine with the casual way Holton defended the selling of his daughter to a man known for sexual tortures.

An image of Bertha invaded his mind, and he could not put her away. She was healthy and glowing with life, an impish smile on her face that hid the secrets of the sinful things she did behind closed doors, as she had done the last time he had seen her before she disappeared forever.

She screamed and wailed to no avail before she screamed no more. He did not need to be there, to see it with his own eyes in order for his imagination to create something foul for him to see and hear, to haunt him with the guilt of her death.

And William felt guilt, but he was not so far gone in his ruthless thoughts that he failed to hear the gasp behind the door, nor the sound of footsteps fading as they ran off.

He shook himself. Damn, they raised their voices.

William made for the door.

Holton took two steps after him, his hands outstretched like a helpless child, but he went no farther. “Where are you going?”

William did not look back at him. “After my wife.”

“And what about me? What am I to do?”

William slammed the door with one word behind him. “Rot!”

Chapter Eight

Marianne ran to the stables. Clovis and Archer still tended to the horses and mules with the other grooms. When her eyes fixed on them she stopped and burst into heavy tears. She barely felt their arms around her as they tried to sooth away her sobs. Like they had done in her childhood after the deaths of her brothers.

Regardless of what her father might think, she was not fooled into anything. She conjured up the entire scheme while imagining wicked and vengeful fantasies against Blaise for insulting and damning her into a marriage with an elderly wretch like Ferdinand. Now, not only would Archer pay for it, but Clovis as well. They would never see their families again. Every servant she grew up with would be in the care of that horrible creature.

She clutched them with a knight’s strength and sobbed her apologies. They desperately tried to comfort their lady while the other grooms looked on as the curious behavior.

Both men must have already shed their tears for their lost families, because neither did so with her now. They pat her on the back as she cried her guilty heart out to them.

She pushed herself away from when she could stand no more contact and paced aimlessly.

“‘Twas no’ yer fault, milady.” Said Clovis for the second time. His words did not reach her. A ringing in her skull refused to leave her. She needed to get away, she needed a place to gather her thoughts.

Marianne ran to the stall that already had her riding horse ready, threw open the gate and climbed onto the young mare.

Archer’s face twisted in terror, and he approached with his hands up as if to grab for the reigns. “Milady, where are ye off to?”

She shrugged away from his grasp and went around him. Clovis could only stare as she went at an even trot towards the open doors of the stable.

“I shall return shortly, do not worry for me.” She would return, but she knew she would be out for longer than she implied.

“But milady, wait!” Archer tried to grab for her reigns again so she kicked the mare into speed and fled the stables, moving towards the castle walls and the gate that William usually left open due to a lack of threats.

She would have to speak with him and the servants about that as well when she was in a right of mind.

She rode her mare until the wind dried her cheeks. When she felt she was far enough away from the castle she slowed her poor animal to a walk, allowing the both of them to breathe the autumn air deeply.

She was far from her troubles, everyone she hurt was not within a shouting distance of her, but she did not feel like they were far away at all. Her guilt pressed heavier against her chest.

Marianne could still see the castle from where she rode just outside of the forest, and while she felt only a little better for releasing her anger, it did not completely dissipate, and she knew it would eventually return like a violent siege if she did not speak with her father and take all of her anger out on him where it belonged.

Marianne wiped the building moisture from her eyes, disgusted with herself for even considering his motives might be honorable.

He hadn’t a drop of honorable blood in his body, not for several years now at any rate, and she was an emotional fool for thinking he had returned to his former self.

Father or not, if she saw him right away she would strangle him, and being the lady of the castle, to attack a penniless man would do no harm to her whatsoever.

The thought of her hands wrapped around his neck while he had a comical look of strangulation on his face brought a small joy, but the distant cry of another horse pulled her out of her thoughts.

She turned. The form of the small horse become larger and larger as its hooves thundered towards her from the direction of the castle at unnatural speeds, and before she could make out the form of the rider she instinctively knew William rode the beast.

He charged at such a pace that she craned her neck, searching for any threat, alert and fearful of what she could not see. The only sound came from the wind rustling the tree leaves. Marianne felt no danger.

She turned back to William and did not expect that his face would be so twisted with anger when he came close enough for her to see it.

He ripped the reigns to her horse out of her hands, leaving her to only hold onto the neck of the best. William glanced behind her to the trees, and began riding toward the castle without so much as saying a word to her, his expression set in chilled stone.

The easy pace and thick silence after his crazed ride to get to her pressed on her nerves.

She would take none of it. “Will you not say anything to me?”

He grunted, sparing her feelings enough to face her, trusting the horse he rode to lead the way, though his expression remained the same. “There have been times when I assumed my first impression of you to be false, but now I see that I was correct all along, and apparently I need to protect you from yourself.”

Marianne could not say what he was referring to. It did not sound like he was angered with her for listening outside of his door. But if not that, then what?

“I do not know what you are speaking of.”

The angry lines in his face deepened. “You rode outside of the protection of the castle!”

“Some protection it provides when the gate is left open at all hours of the day and night!”

He turned away from her, watching where he was leading the horses instead of looking at her while he reprimanded her. “Well, it shall no longer be so, and despite it being left open, single thieves and murderers looking for foolish ladies traveling alone would never dare try to enter. They hide in the forest waiting for their prey.”

The fog in Marianne’s mind cleared and she knew of what he spoke, and she looked back toward the forest she had been on the brink of entering in disbelief. The calm scene she had thought of it only moments before instantly changed into something sinister. “Murderers? Where?”

He whipped his head at her, a tiny protruding vein thickened along the side of his neck. “They do not sit where you can see! You have never traveled alone before, and even then you are still fortunate to not have come across any. Never run away like that ever again!”

Marianne pouted and fought the urge to argue that she could usually tell when someone was watching her, which had become quite often since she made Graystone her home. But his words rang true. She should have known better and felt humiliated for her own naivety.

Archer had seen what she had been trying to do and tried to stop her, but she rode around him.

“I was not trying to flee. I planned on returning.”

William’s grip did not go lax on her reigns, it tightened, and Marianne decided to keep quiet the rest of the way to the castle.

William was livid, she could see it in his face and hear it when he spoke to her again. “There are thieves and men willing to do dishonorable things to beautiful women like you. They hide in every forest in the entire world. Even the ones protected by the royal family themselves.”

Marianne turned to look back at the seemingly peaceful forest again, her mind conjuring men and monsters hiding and waiting for her. “Truly?”

He nodded. “Aye. What if someone watched you and you had been unaware and decided to go into the woods to pick flowers or some nonsense? Being murdered quickly and robbed of your fine clothes would be a blessing compared to what else you could have suffered.”

Marianne shivered. William said nothing more to her.

William nodded to the men waiting for him at the gates, shouted an order for them to close them behind him, and led Marianne and their horses back to the stables.

To Marianne’s horror, Blaise stood waiting in front of the barn doors, his arms folded and a familiar smug smile on his face. Archer and Clovis sighed their relief that she had returned in one piece, but she could hardly see past Blaise’s infuriating smirk.

Her jaw clenched but she refused to make a scene again. No doubt he had heard of her little fit and had run to see it like a child waiting to see the punishment of his most hated sibling.

Thankfully, he chose not to say anything in the presence of his father, no doubt having remembered what happened the last time he did so.

William was not blind. He could clearly see Marianne’s spine stiffen, and he searched for the source of her discomfort and found the smirk on Blaise’s face.

He waved him away and allowed Archer to take Marianne’s own mare after she dismounted. “Leave us,”

Marianne noted how Blaise’s back was the one to stiffen at the command, but after a brief hesitation he spun on his heel and did as he was bid.

William brought own his horse to the stall that belonged to Benedict, a beautiful and proud animal that overfilled its skin with muscle. Marianne now knew why both father and son preferred him.

Marianne could not relax the bones in her tight body, and she could only wrap her arms around herself while Archer quietly walked passed her with Clovis after Blaise had gone ahead of them.

The foolish emotion pumping through her was infinitely worse than any punishment he would give, and she wished he would just leave her with that.

She felt William’s eyes on her, but she refused to let him see her tears or her hand brush them away. She moved to the stall that now contained an old mare that Marianne recognized but had no name. The sight of her banished all thoughts of evil men lurking in forests from her mind, and refreshed the guilt that hid inside of her.

She had been so happy to see her father that she had not noticed how aged the animals were that carried his weight and his belongings. This mare was purchased to be worked until completely useless, then fed to the hunting dogs. If what she heard was correct, the only reason the mare still lived was because Ferdinand would not allow her father to keep any of the better horses.

She touched the old mare’s nose, and she came forth under the attention. Large hands, warm and gentle, slid to her shoulders and gripped like a tight cloth from behind her.

“What did you hear?” Marianne detected no hint of a sneer in William’s voice.

She was shocked. He was being patient, even though he had no need to be. She had disobeyed him and put her life in danger. Despite her frail emotions, he owed her about as much kindness as could be fit in her thumbnail.

Even still, she wished to wallow in her self-pity for a little while longer. “Enough.”

His hands slid from her shoulders and down her arms. He pulled her to his chest and held her close with one arm, and she made no move to pull away. Truthfully she wanted to be held, and felt almost loved.

Almost. He’d told her already that he did not love her, but was it too much to ask that he feel something? That when he moved to touch her shoulders, caress her arms and kiss her neck that there be emotion behind the act? Did he feel something now? Was that where the source of his patience came from?

“Are ye not angry with me for listening behind the door?”

“You were happy when Holton claimed to have a desire to visit you.” He reminded her, ignoring her question.

Bitterness swelled inside her. “Aye, and instead he comes only because there is no other place to go.”

William squeezed her. “Calm yourself,”

“I do not wish to calm myself!” She shrieked, spinning to yell at his face, but all that would come out were her broken moans. “He is right, I did this. ‘Twas bad enough when Archer was given to you, never to see his wife and child again, but now Clovis as well, and the others are to work in the home of that pig. My home.”

William raised a brow. “You still believe the Ferdinand Home is your home?”

She looked at him. “Ferdinand Home?”

“He surely would not keep it under the old name, whether he plans to sell it or not.”

Marianne moaned louder, and since Archer was no longer present, she slid her arms under William’s and held him tightly, taking her comfort from him.

She barely noticed how his body tightened under her, no doubt shocked by her initiative, but she needed this. When he put his arms around her she found the stables decidedly less chilly.

They were silent, and Marianne’s tears came with no sobs. “I should have done as my father asked, and none of this would have happened.”

His arms tightened around her. “You would rather take back your actions than face the consequences?”

She pulled away from him. “’Tis not like that! I would just rather those men did not have to be without their families!”

William’s face unexpectedly softened. “Tell me, what are the names of Archer’s and Clovis’s wives?”

A foolish hope sprung in her chest. “Molly is Archer’s wife and Hawisa is Clovis’s.”

“And are they young women? Beautiful?”

The hope was replaced with an angry spark. William saw had to cut her off before she could scream at him like she did with the servants.

He gave her one hard shake. “Get that foolish thought out of your head. I am not one to sniff around the gowns of other women.”

“Most married men would not hold the same opinion as you do.”

His glare was brief before vanishing into a calm mask over his face. He said nothing to her.

Marianne blushed and wished she could control her emotions better. Strange how it never seemed to be as much of a problem until she married William and he made it his mission to point out that particular fault. Of course, he also seemed to like that fault in her.

“Forgive me, ‘tis just—”

He captured her chin and lifted it so that she faced him. “Your nose looks odd when it faces downward like that.” He lifted it higher, smiling when satisfied. “I much prefer it to be here.”

Marianne felt that she would overheat at any moment if he did not stop. She swallowed hard and forced herself to go on, but her wretched emotions put a stutter in her voice.

“My lord … if … if you will kindly explain your interest in the servant women…”

“My interest in them is naught like my interest in you,”

He moved closer and Marianne expected him to kiss her. She felt such fire that she welcomed the thought of it.

He pulled away from her instead. “Forgive me, I know I have promised that we would become more … knowledgeable of each other, but I must be away tonight.”

Marianne felt like she had been thrown into a lake of disappointment and frustration. “Away? Where?”

He took a loose strand of her red hair into his fingers and twirled it around. “I will not be away for long, while I’m gone I expect you not to brawl with Blaise, or leave the castle grounds,” he said sternly. “Or else Adam will tell me and I shall have to put you over my knee.”

Had she feathers they would have bristled. “But you would never—”

“By now you should know perfectly well that I have never truly harmed a servant, but that does not mean I have not put an insolent child in her place.”

She bristled at the insult. “I am not a child.”

He closed his mouth over hers, quickly to keep her from saying anything else. She clutched his shoulders with sharp fingers, hoping for something akin to the kiss he presented her with the night before, and he complied and gave it to her without asking. Or perhaps she did ask when her body pressed closer to his and her mouth opened without her say.

Was this proper kissing? Her entire body filled with tingles and vibrated happily. His hands ventured down the whole of her torso and waist she thought that it must be. Kissing could be no other way if it could make her lose herself.

When his mouth left hers his hands left her waist and found her southern regions, lazily kneading the thick flesh of her bottom through her gown. Somehow that made her body tingle more, and her arm went about his neck.

His breath was hot against her face, and she leaned closer to that too. “You need not fear that I view you as a girl, ‘tis very obvious that you are indeed a woman.”

With one last squeeze of approval he released her and walked out of the stable, leaving her alone. She panted, searching for air that fled the stables while leaning against the stall for support.

While calming the heat in her cheeks she wondered how he could make her go from an angry fool to a wanton puddle like he did, and her cheeks heated again with the smile that brightened her face.

Whether he knew it or not, there was something between them, whatever that feeling was, she could not believe a man could do that to his wife without feeling something.

Chapter Nine

William did not sleep that night. Despite his claim that he would take his wife to bed and have her, he had business to attend to a day’s ride from his castle. Bringing Marianne along for a possible romp was not a possibility. Should he have brought her strictly for her company on a road thick with muddy craters from the recent rains and oncoming cold, she would only be as uncomfortable and irritable as himself.

Highly unsuitable for loving.

He’d been eager to finally have her and expose her to the secrets of the bed, and after so long of torturing himself only to go without again brought an ache into his loins that was difficult to ignore.

When Benedict came to a much needed stop in front of the vast house that had once belonged to sir Holton, sir Ferdinand himself stood waiting outside the colorless structure.

Ferdinand approached William with a number of armed men, and he took notice of his mood as he stepped down from his horse.

The man’s eyes traveled up and down William’s tired form and wrinkled clothes as though searching for weaknesses to exploit. The aging eyes predictably stopped at the hilt of William’s sword, and then finally took notice of the men William had brought with him, which was hint enough for Ferdinand to take his eyes away.

“Milord,” Ferdinand nodded to him, “You will forgive me for not bowing, but with my back and all—”

William let Robert take the horses to the stables, several of his knights followed to protect those horses along with the valuables packed.

Despite how unapologetic Ferdinand was in his voice and manner, he overlooked the insult in favor of a speedy bargain and retreat.

“Yes, yes. I am not staying here long, I have business with you.” William made no effort to mask the hostility in his voice, his hand resting on the handle of his blade. He would have liked to stay and play the bothersome houseguest for the sheer amusement of it had he not thought for sure the man in front of him would poison his wine.

William prayed that Ferdinand had not sold off all the servants yet.

Ferdinand nodded his head and made a show of turning slowly back towards the house, keeping a long wrinkled hand on his lower back for support William was sure he did not need.

His voice bellowed strong when he commanded the men with him. “Back to your posts, all of you!”

William certainly had never seen servants or men at arms move so quickly, not even at his own keep now that Marianne was there to keep them in place.

He mumbled jealously under his breath and followed, walking at an equally sluggish pace beside him and wishing to be anywhere else. Though he did make a point to walk with a straight back and not offer his assistance to the seemingly feebly old man.

“Now, business you say? Pray, what business could you possibly have with an old man like me?” Ferdinand turned his face to him, leaving William unsure if the man sneered or ‘twas the expression that came with having a face of a gnarled tree.

William folded his hands behind his back, preparing to barter for what he wanted. “Aye, I wish to purchase some of the servants that came into your possession.”

“Oh? Your timing could be better, milord. I sold many already.”

William forced his expression to remain professional. He wanted to purchase the servants and get out, but if Ferdinand decided to be difficult that could ruin his plan of a hasty retreat.

“I only require a select few.”

He could not purchase all the servants of the former Holton House, or even all the men who participated in his abduction, but he could retrieve the families of the men currently in his care.

A woman stationed at the doors opened them when Ferdinand and William arrived at the steps, and despite how Ferdinand continued to walk in the manner of a man about to fall over, William was aware of how all heads turned down at his approach, and how no one came to aid him while he walked so weakly.

The man had not been this fragile when he attended the wedding party those weeks ago.

Ferdinand stopped before the doors to his new home, turned, and raised an eye at the men who followed William.

“I would prefer if your men remained waiting here.”

William controlled his jaw into remaining neutral at the order barely disguised as a request, though he could not convince his hand to not clench like it did.

The man was trying to vex him.

He nearly told Ferdinand that he would prefer that his men stayed with their lord, but knew that should he retaliate Ferdinand could simply not sell him what he wished to buy, and there would be naught at all William could do about it.

Ferdinand took his silence as an answer, his smile twisting his sagging features. “Unless, milord, that you fear an elderly man so greatly that you require protection?”

‘Twas not the elderly man William feared would sneak up on him with a blade, and he did not doubt for a minute that should he enter Ferdinand’s territory with no protection he would surely suffer a fatal accident, as was known to happen with some of the people in Ferdinand’s acquaintance. William spun on his men. “All of you, wait for me in the stables, James, you will come with me.”

The smile was removed from Ferdinand’s mouth, and his face returned to the natural scowl that was his face. “I suppose one man will not hurt anything.”

“James is not yet knighted, and as you and I both know ‘tis incredibly foolish to go anywhere without a man to watch your back. Unless you have something to fear from a squire.”

Though he was an incredibly talented squire, Ferdinand did not need to be subjected to that information.

Ferdinand sniffed, leading the way into the house. “Very well.”

He expected the house to be considerably warmer than the outside, but not a fire crackled anywhere. The hall was entirely silent but for the sound of easy footsteps while William and Ferdinand trailed mud into the house. Beyond that William detected no sounds of maids conversing with each other as they did the laundry or children laughing.

Ferdinand easily put one leg in front of the other while leading them up the stairs, his pace becoming stronger as he forgot to play the feeble old man with their conversation, but his hand never left his back.

“How many were you hoping to purchase, milord?”

“As I said, only a few. Three.”

“So few? I would have thought your new lady would have you coming to me to rescue the entire lot from my inadequate care.” He smiled that same sneering smile over his shoulder. “But then your care has not been much better for some time now, has it?”

William focused as much fire as possible into his eyes when he stared into Ferdinand’s. He should have known the man would be petty enough to remind him of this, as well as insinuating that he knew exactly what had caused William’s long lapse in judgment. He shook his head and made the decision to not allow Ferdinand the pleasure of seeing him flustered. “As I said, only three.”

Ferdinand looked predictably affronted that William would not rise to the insult, as well as he could not take more money from William’s pockets before allowing him, and reluctantly his squire, into his temporary solar.

Just like William’s, the writing table sat at the far end, under the tall window and facing East for the best light. No rushes lay under his feet, or stools for visitors, and on the writing table lay several pieces of parchment and an ink bottle.

William sniffed and noted to himself that the maids must not be allowed to enter here for cleaning. The room smelled of urine, and glancing behind him, the sour expression on James’s face told him that he recognized the scent as well.

“Not much left,” Ferdinand moved towards the table, seemingly oblivious of the smell or merely choosing to allow them to breathe it in anyway. “But it serves its purpose for however long I need to be here until I make the sale.”

“You could do that from your own estate. You always have before.” William raised his hand to pinch his nose, but realizing his actions at the last minute he scratched it instead. James made no effort to hide his disgust and openly held his nose with both hands. William did not reprimand him.

Ferdinand waved his boney hand dismissively and sat down, leaving William to stand.

William glared at him. The old man knew perfectly well that their stations provided William with the only seat.

Ferdinand gave him a smile that was more gloating than apologetic. “My old bones…”

“Aye, now to the servants I wish to purchase, there are two women, one Hawisa and the other Molly and her son. That is all.”

Ferdinand cocked his head. “You traveled all this way for that? Two women and a boy?” A light flashed in his eyes when the answer came. “I see, the servant Holton came to you with his tail between his legs and the one he gave you previously.”

William’s jaw clenched. He hoped the old man would not put it in place.

He expected him to deny the sale for the sheer pleasure of it, instead he pulled a single slip of parchment towards him and, instead of using a scribe, wrote down some figures himself, sanded the ink, and held out the parchment for William to inspect.

The figure he read made him crush and slam the parchment back onto the wooden surface.

“‘Tis four times the amount they’re worth!” He roared. The sound magnified in the small space and William was certain the serfs out in the fields heard him.

Ferdinand eyed the ruined parchment with a hint of disdain but a smirk twisted his lips. “The boy is still a boy, but he will grow into a man far more capable than two women. I must take that into account.” He looked up and stared hard at William. “And I must say, my lord, that I am still sore over the loss of my would-be wife. I shall not pretend that I do not take some enjoyment in this. That is my price. It will stay as such, and if you do not wish to have them then you must be on your way. Not even a man of your status can tell me how to price my wares.”

This time William could not help but show his displeasure, his shaking fists and clenched teeth were more than enough to tell the man what he thought of him.

He towered above Ferdinand, willing the other man to back down but he glanced up at him with the air of a man who had not a care in the world.

His heel twitched to turn and walk out the door, but denying Ferdinand all of that money would hardly count as a win for him considering he would still have the servants he knew William wanted for Marianne.

Finally, William grumbled and accepted the price. Ferdinand was right, William had traveled all that way and Ferdinand knew he would not return empty handed, regardless of the price he’d set upon the servants.

Marianne had best be grateful for this act. Thought William as he dragged the parchment back to him, signed his name and went to retrieve the monies to pay Ferdinand with.

***

Marianne waited for William’s return with an anticipation she could not hide. She was sure she knew where William had gone, as well as the reason despite his evasiveness on the hours before his departure.

Her husband had a soft heart, especially with his servants, and Marianne could not believe that he had gone away to simply not return with Hawisa and Molly.

She could not bring herself to share her thoughts with Clovis or Archer in case she was mistaken, but since she was forced to live in the same castle as her father, she told him of her suspicions while they breakfasted by themselves and away from the servants. Something that William rarely did despite the fireplace in their chamber.

Her father nearly spit out his ale with laughter.

“The man has more servants than he knows what to do with, why else would half of them be lazing about like they are?”

Marianne muttered and crossed her arms. Some servants still outright refused to do their jobs, but definitely not as much as half.

“He’s bringing them back,” She argued more to herself than to him. She already planned on having them help her convince the other maids to start pulling their weight. Hawisa had a scream that rivaled Marianne’s, and Molly’s nimble fingers made her very quick with her work. She could teach the sluggish women here a thing or two about working faster.

“And, did his lordship tell you of this?” Holton did not bother to look at her while lifting his goblet to his lips. When William left his castle her father had taken the liberty of making himself more than comfortable with his new lodgings, which included helping himself to as much wine as he wished.

The question, and his manner, prompted Marianne into a standing rage. “He is not a greedy toad like you! He will do it!”

And she had been correct.

Marianne clasped her hands together over her mouth and watched with barely suppressed joy as Archer kissed his wife and held his small son to his chest, Clovis doing the same while Hawisa wept openly in his arms, her feet not touching the earth beneath her since Clovis lifted her and appeared in no mood to put her down.

Pleasure and envy swirled through her blood, pleasure for their reunion and envy over how joyful and filled with love it was.

Molly melted in the presence of her husband, keen on touching his face and keeping their noses close together, the boy latched to his father’s neck, his feet did not yet reach Archer’s waist and between the three of them he had a much calmer disposition than his parents.

Marianne looked at William, he had a curious look similar to hers on his face. As if sensing her study of him, he turned and their eyes met briefly before he turned away.

He quickly sent an order to Robert to return the horses to their stalls but the man was already moving.

It could be the same for us. She thought, but then dismissed the idea as quickly as it had come to her. William felt lust for her and naught else.

The realization brought a sharp pain in her chest. Marianne became aware of the hard beating of her heart and the heat in her cheeks.

This beating was different from the other times when she was overly excited with anger, this beating represented something entirely different that she had never before experienced. And she shocked herself with the notion that she might know exactly what it was.

She covered the area above her heart with her palm, willing it to slow so that she might catch her breath, but looking at William again, who busied himself explaining to the men reunited with their families that he couldn’t bring anyone else from the former Holton House, only worsened her symptoms, and heat spread from her chest to the rest of her limbs at a delicious pace. Her knees threatened to crumble beneath her.

Good Lord, she loved her husband.

Even without ever experiencing the emotion in any way other than the sisterly love she felt for her brothers when they still lived, she knew what it was. There was naught else it could be.

Marianne nearly panicked and had to turn away from the beautiful reunion and tug at her red braid to force calm upon herself. She breathed deeply and closed her eyes.

Really, she thought, there are worse things.

Loving her husband was a luxury most married women could not pay for, or reach, her father and mother included, and at least if William did not love her back, he did show a physical interest in her, which was also more than what she could have hoped for.

The pain in her chest returned, though mixed in with a touch of regret over the circumstances, and Marianne released her hair and bit down on her fist to keep from gasping. Her insides felt like they did that time when she was a girl and jumped down the stairway in her old home. Her stomach, heart, and guts had all flopped into her throat. Only this time she stood still, not flying down a stone stairway.

A physical interest was all well and good, she liked it even, but how could she accept it as her only comfort?

She gave one last fleeting glance to William, who had seemingly forgotten the meeting of their eyes and grinned smugly over his generous deed. Marianne tightened her shawl around her shoulders and left to tell the cooks to prepare his meal. She could not face him yet, after the act of kindness he performed she knew she would burst into tears if he so much as said a word to her.

***

William hunted for Bryce when he escaped from the men and their wives, the unusual spring in his step brought on by retrieving their women soon disappeared as he remembered what he needed to do.

Strange how a small act of kindness towards a few servants could make him realize how brightly the sky shone on the chilly autumn day.

Then his thoughts returned to Ferdinand and the words the man spoke of, his unusual behavior to stay in a house just under a day’s ride from his castle, his hints towards William’s unspeakable past, and the frost in his voice when he spoke of the loss of his would-be wife.

Returning to his studies of the blade would now be for more than just to save face in front of his friends who frequently made his lack of skill known in their jokes, but he wanted to be prepared to defend himself and Marianne in the case that, that underhanded devil pulled a cruel stunt for revenge.

Men and women who’ve angered Ferdinand have been known to disappear, William knew this very well, having never forgotten it after the incident with the prostitute, poor Bertha, and he was going to prepare himself for the possibility of something dangerous. First, he needed to do one quick thing.

“Adam!” William called when he finally spotted him.

The man abruptly stopped, looked shocked at the sight of his master before bowing. He was running an errand outside the castle, probably hoping to see his woman as he was prone to sneak off and do when he felt there was naught better for him to work with. William decided not to mention it.

“Yes, milord?”

He struggled with the smirk on his lips, knowing this would displease Marianne and excited for her oncoming wrath.

“Find my wife, tell her that I have had time to think over my punishment for her lack of judgment when she rode off, and I have decided that she is now to have an escort.”

Adam blinked. “Does she not already have one, milord?”

“A male escort, but she is still to have Olma in her presence,” he quickly added. “James is about to be knighted so he will do, I would not want to deprive a knight of his apprentice unless I thought he would soon be ready.”

He also did not want Marianne to be suspicious of why she would be followed around by a knight. A squire would be a more believable prison keeper for the lady of the castle without arousing her worries.

Adam blinked again, and his expression fell at the prospect of telling his lady that she was soon to be shackled with another keeper. “Aye, milord, it shall be done.”

William nodded and went on his way. “Good, see to it then.”

“The lady will not be pleased, milord.”

William turned back to look at him. His expression had gone from forlorn to mildly fearful.

William grinned and continued walking. “I am well aware. I am going to train with Bryce, tell her where to find me should she wish a word.”

***

Marianne did not know how it was possible for her to have ever felt anything other than spite for the man. He infuriated her! Not only could she not leave the castle grounds, but now had to walk around with that little coward behind her.

A squire, soon to be knighted. Ha! The little fool could not even look her in the eye. She would feel sorry for him had he not been sent to guard her by her husband.

Now he trailed behind her, just ahead of Olma who followed too eagerly for Marianne’s liking. His head was still down, she did not need any witchcraft to see that, and right now she felt sadistic enough to not care for his shattered soul.

Every servant within eyesight scurried out of the way of her violent sneer, closed fists, and stomping feet as she marched up the stairway and burst through the doors of William’s solar, mouth open, ready to scream again.

He was not there.

She stomped her foot, the roar that escaped her shook her body.

A commotion behind her brought her back to her senses long enough for her to look behind her. The squire boy fell over and stared at her like she was possessed. Olma eagerly assisted him back to his stumbling feet.

She ignored them and went to the window, looking out passed the courtyard for any sign of where William could be.

Her eyes found him like a hawk that found a mouse while flying above. He played along the side of the stables, jumping and dancing clumsily away from another bigger man. They both swung their swords about, only William did a more terrible job of it.

Ah yes, she thought, he had mentioned something about sharpening his skills to her.

Marianne hardly cared. Nor did she care of what it was William saw that was so important about playing around like a child when he had the nerve to attach this meddlesome boy to her leg.

She fled from the solar, and flew down the stairs, nearly knocking over a maid carrying flour. Her two watch dogs followed behind her.

Marianne lifted her gown when she charged outside and into the mud, following the sound of laughter that she had not heard before when she was certain he was hiding from her.

“I’m improving!” William boomed, laughter in his voice. He continued his circular dance around his instructor, swirling his wooden sword about with his right hand, daring his instructor to come at him with his stance.

The man had a deep voice. “Lucky, you mean.”

“Not anymore!” Marianne screeched.

All laughter ceased as all eyes shot to her. Marianne did not stop, not even when she caught Blaise in her peripheral vision as she moved in on William. She stopped only when she stood up directly in front of him so that he could have a clear vision of the loathing in her eyes, her nose high enough that it nearly touched his while his breath warmed her face.

Angrily, she pointed his finger behind her to where she was sure the squire boy still stood unless he had fallen over again.

“What is that?” She ground through clenched teeth.

William looked at the squire, looked back at her and smiled. “That is James. He is to be knighted soon.”

“And pray tell, what is he following me for?”

It infuriated her that her temper did not have the same affect on William as it had on James, his unflinching demeanor silenced her long enough to hear what he had to say.

“My dear, he is to ensure that you do not take leave of your senses again and charge off towards the forest at the first sign of a broken heart.”

“I did not charge towards the forest!” Marianne stamped her foot. She rode casually to free her thoughts. “Nor did I have a broken heart!” She had merely been upset at the time. “And how is it that he is to be knighted? He cowers like a beaten dog.”

William ignored her previous claims of not charging towards the forest. “If he does cower like a beaten dog ‘tis only because you scream like a savage.”

Blaise, having suffered enough in silence, threw down his wooden sword. “I believe my training for the day is complete, if anyone has any need of me, I shall be riding.”

“Do not be riding Benedict! That is William’s horse!” Marianne shouted at his retreating back, remembering William speak of his dislike for Blaise to ride his prized horse without permission.

Blaise abruptly stopped, turned, and glared. But he looked behind her to where William stood and left without another word.

Marianne was glad for his decision to leave and did not look at him with regret when he chose to do so, even if it was the product of her temper.

The man instructing William had lowered his sword and found something much more interesting to stare at off in the distance.

For the first time she stopped to realize that there were guests about who could see her in this state. It occurred to her that perhaps she really did not have the hold on her emotions that she thought she did.

The larger man shook his head in the direction Blaise had left in before addressing William. “I do not know why ye let the boy get away with being so cruel to ye.” He said before staring down at Marianne in an equally meaningful way.

Marianne heard what was not said. The large man also did not understand why William allowed her to rant and rage at her husband like she did, and truthfully Marianne did not know the answer either.

Marianne feared William would speak of her behavior as well. His silence was equally accusing.

Wishing to take the attention away from herself, she puzzled over why the larger man would mention Blaise in the first place when all he did was storm off. She heard Blaise say naught of William when she stormed in. She deducted that he must have been speaking ill of William’s skills before she arrived.

Wishing to redeem herself for her wicked display, she spoke loudly with both arms crossed. “From what I have seen William is improving his swordplay splendidly.”

Both men had the good grace not to mention the sudden change in the subject, nor that she had never seen William spar previously to know whether he truly improved or not. Still, a pleased grin appeared on William’s face.

“Marianne, my dear, might I introduce you to my brother in spirit, Lord Bryce of Ironside.”

Marianne curtsied politely, blushing and wondering if it made a difference in his opinion of her now that he’d seen her in a rage.

The man had a bright smile hidden under his gnarled hazel beard. “I knew ye’d be plenty o’ fun. Said so myself, even Nicholas figured ye’d have a fiery spirit. Hugh thought Will had gotten ye with—”

“Quite enough, old friend,” William interjected, but ‘twas too late, Marianne knew what Lord Ironside was about to say. Her face blazed.

She decided the best course of action was no action at all and said naught. She pursed her lips and smiled, though the smile she gave suggested she was trying to hide lemon juice in her mouth.

“I pray that I have not ruined your practice, you may both continue if you wish.” Though that would not stop her from demanding a real explanation from William as soon as his guest was out of the way.

“I do no’ think so, milady,” Said Bryce, turning his attention back to William. “I think we are better to start this again first thing on the morrow.”

William nodded. “Aye, I have some other work that could be seen to while I wait for our next match.”

Bryce snorted and shook his head. “Don’t know how ye manage to sit there like that, adding numbers all day,” he poked the pointed end of the wooden sword at William’s chest and jabbed him. “‘Tis no wonder yer skills are lacking.”

William slapped the sword away, but Marianne could see that he took no offence to the comment.

Bryce turned to the stables, where his horse waited for him.

“Will you not stay the night and have some supper?” She offered, not sure if she liked the idea of letting a guest leave without being fed, as she was certain no well bred lady would allow.

Bryce turned at the mention of food. “I canno’ cheat a beautiful woman like yerself out of one o’ yer spare rooms when I live just an hour south, but if ye’ll be so kind, I would love to stay for supper.”

***

The man ate more than a pack of starved wolves and had the manners to match, but Marianne could see why William enjoyed having him as a friend. She could sense they had a genuine liking for each other that truly was brotherly. When they spoke to each other it was without any formalities.

Marianne was glad to meet him, his jolly humor and inappropriate jokes of both his and William’s clumsy boyhood made her forget that James stood several feet behind her. She now wished to meet the other friends William hid from her, because Bryce was correct, William did spend most of his time in his solar. Marianne was glad for someone other than herself who wanted him to spend time outside of that stuffy room.

When they bid him farewell Marianne was shocked to see that he hadn’t even brought any men for protection, just a single horse.

“Ye need no’ worry fer me. Who would try an’ rob me? I’m huge and look like a beggar.” He waved his hands over his torn clothing, a smile hidden under his beard at the worry on her face.

Marianne looked at the clothes he’d been training William in. They hung loose on his huge body and smelled of filth. She wondered if he dressed like so all the time or just for the sake of their practice.

Marianne chided herself for being foolish and decided it was the latter.

***

After Bryce left, Marianne had completely forgotten about James and Olma, and would have continued to be oblivious of them had William not ordered them away.

“Is that the end of my punishment then?” She asked, crossing her arms as she turned and walked towards their bedchamber.

Her body flooded with warmth when he caught up and pulled her close, walking hip to hip with her with his arm snaked around her body and hand resting against her belly.

He walked as though his touch was commonplace, and he seemed not as affected by it as she. He sighed over her question, showing no symptoms of a flush in his cheeks. “‘Tis not meant to be a punishment. You know that.”

Marianne was about to respond that she thought he needed to stop having her followed until he leaned in and closed his teeth around the lobe of her ear, calmly, as though that were also commonplace behavior.

Marianne stopped walking, his action caused that familiar flutter in her chest and the feeling of being very far away from everything. “Wha—what are you doing?”

He pulled her closer and they stood no longer hip to hip but now her back was to his chest. Servants walked by, and Marianne squirmed under their stares as they passed, slower to get the entire scene, but William refused to acknowledge them or let her move.

His breath in her ear warmed her further, his hands trailing tingles along her body. “I have waited long enough to have my wife.”

Marianne shuddered and her body blazed with impatient fire. Finally! Finally!

Marianne forcefully turned and pushed her mouth up onto his.

When he kissed her with his entire mouth it caused such a delicious ache in her, a spreading warmth through her blood that had not been there before. She felt he would enjoy it if she did the same.

She could tell she shocked him by taking the initiative but he eagerly allowed her to do as she wished with him, and when she slipped her tongue into his mouth like he had done to her before, he welcomed it and suckled hungrily.

Marianne mentally damned the servants. Had it not been for them scurrying in and out of hallways she would have been delighted to allow William to take her where they stood, eager to discover how far these sensations he had been teasing her with could go.

“Thief!”

Blaise’s angry shouted statement jerked Marianne out of her lusty haze. She spun, ready to lash out for the interruption. He marched towards the both of them, fists clenched and his eyes boring accusingly into her, as though he wished to pierce her and draw blood with them.

William was immediately alert, whatever lust he had apparently vanished as he pulled himself away from his wife to give his son his full attention. “Who is the thief?”

Blaise stopped before them and thrust forward his finger. “She is!”

Chapter Ten

William’s eyes flashed. “Careful with your words!”

Color traveled up Blaise’s neck, as though just remembering he was accusing the wife of his father. Even so, the scowl remained.

“Several gold and silver plates are missing. The cooks and the sewing-maids have also informed me that spices and silks are gone as well.”

Marianne felt the rage from William burning as though she stood next to a blazing fire. She let it spread into her, consume her. This weasel was accusing her of theft!

The old feeling of wishing to claw his eyes out returned with a mad vengeance, and she forced herself to remain at William’s side. If she took one step towards Blaise she would do just as she wished. “What makes you think I would steal from my husband?”

His gaze on her was cold. “Your father is missing, and so are my father’s horses.”

The violent feeling inside of her intensified. “You pathetic swine! ‘Tis not enough that you insult me at every opportunity but now you try to drag my father in mud as well?”

Blaise’s face reddened like fire. “He drags himself in the mud!”

“How long has he been gone?” William demanded above their raging voices.

Marianne whipped her head around. He would not look at her.

“No one has seen him since early this morn.”

William scratched his jaw. “I had just arrived, and was also preoccupied with Archer and Clovis while Robert returned the animals to the stables.”

Marianne could not believe what she heard, but William continued his pondering, pretending not to notice her open staring.

“I will need to speak with Robert.”

“I already have.” Blaise said quickly.

William waited. “And?”

“He has told me that he did not see Holton with any valuables, but that he was acting strangely and said that he might wish to take a ride later.”

“So Robert did not help him to saddle and pack the horses?”

Blaise shook his head. “Nay, but another young stable boy did see Holton trying on his own, and assisted him with it. He told me that Holton rode off by himself.”

William seethed. “He could have packed all those horses with valuables.”

Marianne did not want to believe it. She could not believe her father was capable of theft, and while at first she could not, within seconds of the accusation she found her way of thinking to be swayed to what could only be the truth. She knew that trying to defend her father’s honor would only result in naught but more hot temper, so she remained silent.

Even though her father was a man who rarely thought of anyone but himself, she had an inkling of his plan.

“Perhaps he wished to sell the items for land?”

Blaise sneered at the idea. “What land could he purchase with stolen goods? Once he was accused everything he purchased would belong to my father in the end.”

“Unless he went abroad,” said William. “Still, we do not know how much he took, and whether it would be enough to buy him a sizable amount of land to live off of.”

Marianne did not believe that was what her father’s intention.

Her face must have given her away because Blaise was quick to attack her again. “Do you know something that perhaps you are not telling us, my lady?”

William looked at her as well, apparently awaiting an explanation.

Marianne’s mood deflated. Only a moment ago her husband spoke of making love with her. But of course, why should she think that his lust would lead to mutual trust? He wanted her in his bed. He had not forgotten that she forced him into the marriage.

Marianne cleared the lump of pain from her throat. “I believe he might wish to give whatever stolen items he has to sir Ferdinand. Perhaps to regain some of the land surrounding Holton House.”

The brows of both men raised high at her.

William was the first to speak. “Why only some of the land? Why not try to bargain for the house and the land?” He shook his head, as though dismissing the idea. “Even if Holton had twice the amount required for a house that size, Ferdinand would never sell it back to him.”

She looked away from the both of them. She still felt William’s eyes on her, as though he wished to hear what she thought her father would do since she knew the man best. “My brothers, all of them, are buried on that land.”

A small gasp left William’s mouth as though it had been pulled from his throat. “I was unaware you had any.”

Even Blaise was silent, though his eyes not any less accusing.

Marianne nodded. “Aye, five of them,” her voice became smaller. “All gone.”

William sighed and rubbed his face. “Send some men out to find him, but he is not to be harmed.”

“The man is a thief!” Blaise was spitting with shaking rage.

William refused to lose his calm the way Blaise did so easily. “And those items could have easily been misplaced. I do not wish to send men off to beat him on the chance he really is just gone for some air.”

Blaise glared and William glared back, his spine as stiff as his tone and fists clenched. “I will not be moved by you. You are finished doing as you please, and I shall not change my mind. Send the men, and if I hear that you twisted my words to have him harmed then you shall sleep in the barn until the first snow.”

Marianne stood stunned, her face mimicking that of Blaise’s, who rocked back on his feet at the threat. The image melted into the shocked outrage she witnessed the day William grabbed a fistful of his orange hair when he defended her from his son.

Body tight, Blaise did as he was bid and stalked away with all the bluster of a winter storm. There was no pout on his face or an ungentlemanly slouch in his back. The air around him did waft thick, however, and passing maids and children scurried out of his way.

Marianne wished she could ask William about the true relationship between him and Blaise. She could not for a moment believe that William was Blaise’s father, not when he had Robert’s orange head of hair and face. So then why did William keep Blaise under his roof and call him his son when he so obviously was not?

Marianne sighed. If there had ever been a chance for her to convince William that she did not need a squire to follow her, this event surely destroyed it.

Why did her father have to bring ruin to her happiness? He always seemed to be around the corner with a piece of bad news to spring upon her.

The deaths of her brothers, Reggie slipping from his horse, Blaise’s insulting letter, her engagement to Sir Ferdinand, and now this.

The anger bubbled inside her like boiling water. Her body shaking with effort to contain it.

“I am not a thief.” She spoke the words without thinking.

“I never assumed you were, my dear.”

She wished he would refrain from calling her that. A sweet pet-name was meant for lovers, not strangers.

They would have been lovers had Blaise not stormed in on them and made that horrible accusation.

“I do like seeing your cheeks that color, my dear, but knowing ‘tis not I making you so angry upsets me.”

Marianne ignored him, spun and tried to storm away. She should have known he would not let her.

He grabbed her and forcefully turned her. Marianne found her entire body pressed closely into his chest, his chin resting atop her head in his attempt to contain her anger. “No more will you stomp around like a spoiled child.”

“Spoiled child?” She raged, now wishing to claw out his eyes instead as her voice rose. “Blaise accuses me of stealing from my new home, and you—”

Her words stalled on her lips when William dragged her into the next room. He returned her to her feet before he slammed the door.

She knew the room without turning around. ‘Twas one of the rooms she had yelled and screamed for the servants to clean, and in the end she had to help clean it because the few maids willing to get back to their work straight away had been scattered all over the castle with other chores, and completing them as slowly as possible.

The large bed in the center of the room with its clean sheets took up all of her attention, and she flushed with the recognition of where William’s thoughts had gone.

“If you think for one moment that we are going to do this now—”

William went to her, wrapped his arms under her bottom and lifted her into the air as though she weighed less than a girl’s doll. Marianne shrieked, her fists pounded his shoulders and back uselessly, but he held firm until throwing her onto the bed where she bounced helplessly.

She nearly slipped off, but he was on her in an instant, clasping her wrists and holding them above her head with only one of his much larger hands.

She blew locks of red hair out of her eyes and glared at him. “If you do this, I shall never forgive you.”

He was neither smiling nor scowling. “You certainly think highly of yourself.”

“I think no such thing.”

“And you obviously think very little of me.”

“What?”

“I would never force myself on you, and have never done so to any woman. Ever.” His grip on her wrists tightened. “I would have thought that after sharing my bed with you all this time, you would have a little more sense than that.” He paused. “And respect.”

She snarled and struggled despite knowing he was much too heavy for her to move, ‘twas more for him to see that she would not give in to him so easily. “Forgive me if my wits have abandoned me while you press me into the bed.”

William dropped her wrists and moved to close the curtains surrounding them. Marianne’s shock took hold of her with this new movement. Her confusion gripped her as tight as William’s hands and she could not lower her arms from where they had been held.

He returned and settled himself next to her, laying one hand palm down on the blanket beside her head. While he did not put his whole weight onto her this time, there was enough of him there to make her aware that she was still under his power.

“If you would like to scream as you are prone to do, I would prefer that you not do so in front of the servants.” He reached out for a pillow and handed it to her. “Screaming and shrieking into this should stifle most of the noise.”

Marianne lowered her hands but did not take the pillow. “Nay, I think I shall not scream today.”

He raised a brow at her, tossing the pillow away. “And you will not try to gallop off into the forest?”

She glared again, but she did not put her usual spirit into it. “You have made that quite impossible already, dear husband.”

She did not use the name with any of her earlier sarcasm. In fact she shocked herself with the playful tone she heard there.

William smiled, tracing her jaw with the tip of a large finger. “Simply because you decide not to scream does not mean I wish for you to contain your anger. You are allowed to be cross with Blaise.”

Marianne eyes widened. How had he seen through her like that? “What gave you the impression I was not going to be angry with him?”

His pleased smile turned from innocent to wickedness. “My dear, whenever the world vexes you, you either scream at the top of your lungs, or you run away from it.”

“You will haunt me with the forest incident for the rest of my life, won’t you?” Marianne shut her eyes against him, exasperated and willing for her strength to not leave her. “I’ll have you know that was a singular moment of foolishness.”

William’s brow nearly touched his hairline. The vision of her running from the church upon discovering that he was not who she thought he was flashed in his memory. ‘Twas no singular incident, but he said nothing of it.

“Very well,” he said.

Marianne worried her bottom lip. “If your men find my father, and bring him back, and if he did steal those things from you, what will you do to him?”

William clasped the bridge between his eyes, as though he searched for the proper words. “‘Tis a difficult question. He needs punishment, I cannot pretend he did not steal from me simply for your sake and allow him to stay.” He looked down at her. Marianne squirmed as he continued. “Yet for your sake, I do not believe I can not turn him out into the cold.”

Marianne hesitated. Actually, he could do whatever he wanted to the man and Marianne could say naught about it. She certainly did not want her father to freeze during the winter months, but at the same time…

“You could always give him a thrashing.”

He sputtered. “What is this?”

Marianne did not know if he was shocked by her statement or the predatory smile on her face.

“Or you could put him in the barn and have him clean the stalls until he has learned his lesson. But you must wait until they are good and full, with no one there to aid him.”

William laughed. “Aye, I can see him in my mind doing that. He will need to be watched of course,”

“Naturally. We cannot have him trying to run off again.”

“Aye, when he returns I shall have to order the men at the gates to not only refuse to open the drawbridge for you, but now for him as well.”

Marianne laughed. How was it possible he could still her anger like this? The tension was no longer in her body, and their closeness did not stir a worry in her gut either. The old warm feelings in her belly returned, the air surrounding her became hot and comforting. How could she tell him that she wished to make love again without humiliating herself?

His face was close to hers, breath warming her cheeks further. The heat traveled into her lungs, which worked harder to take in more air. Slowly, hesitantly, Marianne reached up to touch his lightly colored hair, holding the strands between her fingertips like he had done to her.

The few threads of gray made him handsome, and she wondered if he had been just as handsome, or more so, before the small lines creased under his eyes.

Nay, she thought after some seconds of study, smoothing the hair the dropped to his forehead. He could never have been more pleasing to the eye at any other time. He was perfect now.

Marianne shifted, embarrassment gripped her body and she bit her bottom lip to regain control. She wanted to ask him to touch her, but she could not speak, nor did she need to. William, having somehow sensed her inner conflict, dropped his head and covered her mouth with his.

What had begun as soft and feathery kissing, lips massaging lips, became rough and wanting within seconds. Teeth met teeth, nipping gently before becoming rough in their play.

William’s larger hand cupped her face, then burned down her neck, over her breasts and stomach, trailing fire with it as he lifted her green gown.

Frustration swelled inside her. She did not want him to lift it, she wanted him to take the damned thing off. If she could burn so much with his touch through her gown, she needed to feel his touch to her flesh.

She jolted when his fingers reached between her legs. They were cold and shocking, but then her back arched with the spasm that came with them. The cold was promptly replaced with severe heat that made her sweat. Her mouth opened though there was naught she wanted to say, and nothing emerged but tiny squeaks.

William took advantage of her mouth then and kissed her again. Marianne threw her arm around his neck to anchor her, using the other to keep her propped up, and kissed him back. Wordless noises continued to erupt from her mouth through their kiss but she did not care. All she wanted was for him to keep touching her, keep rubbing that spot, never stop until she reached her destination. Where she did not know but again all that mattered was that he never stop.

Abruptly he pulled away his entire body to stand on his knees before her, and Marianne fell back on the bed, panting, unsatisfied and confused.

She was so close! She could not say what it was that she was close to, but something almost happened and she nearly burst into tears because he had the audacity to stop.

She was going to tell him what she really thought of him for presenting her with such a cruel punishment, but he was preoccupied with the removing of his blue outer robe, and then loosening his pants.

“What are you—”

His voice was hurried as he threw away his tunic. “If you are going to reach your pleasure so soon you will do it with me inside you.”

The needful rumble in his voice excited her, the interest between her thighs again aroused. When he guided her legs apart she lifted them and allowed him to settle in between without fear.

Without notice he stopped. “This will hurt for a few moments,”

Marianne felt the hard shaft of his manhood waiting to enter her and felt a new rise in her excitement. She doubted very much that anything could hurt her at this point and ignored the warning.

***

William thrust into her quickly and felt Marianne tense beneath him, heard the stunned squeak escape her lips and watched her eyes flare open.

He pulled her closer and rested his face in the crook of her neck, calling all of his willpower to keep him from moving.

She clutched at his shoulders, horror nearly took him with the idea that she would tell him to stop, that he was hurting her far too much for her to handle and that she wished him to lift himself off and leave her.

But then she relaxed in his arms. He returned his hand to the spot between her legs and massaged the tender flesh through her curls while he thrust into her.

Marianne opened her mouth and released soft, throaty mewls that went straight to William’s cock. The whole of her body seemed to squeeze him, an encouragement that could only mean any pain she had felt had vanished in favor of the building pleasure.

Then he found that little spot inside her and she truly let the noises come out.

“Again! Touch me there again,” she demanded, eyes wide and mouth open with intense excitement.

Encouraged, he complied to her wishes with a grin.

Marianne clutched the bed sheets and lifted herself to meet his thrusting hips and fingers, once, twice, and then tensed when she finally made it there, the lips of her sex contracting around William’s manhood.

He could not hold himself off as her contracting inner walls pulled him along with her, and he could only pump himself faster, harder, bringing her wave after wave of the most exquisite feeling either of them had ever experienced until they finally made it to shore and rested there, out of breath from the intense exercise, slick with sweat.

William collapsed on top of her and Marianne released a light hearted giggle, a smile on her rosy lips.

He pressed his lips to her shoulder. “I take it you are satisfied?”

“More than satisfied.” She purred, clinging to his chest and snuggling there like a content feline.

“Good. Next I will take you to the same place and show you how much more wonderful it could be.”

Later, he promised himself, later.

Strange, how loving her could cause him to be so clumsy in bed.

His breath caught at the thought.

He had not thought of loving her in the physical sense, but the kind that stirred his silent heart.

Did he love her? ‘Twas the first time he had ever outright asked himself that question. He had not loved in years and nearly forgot what it felt like, along with the consequences of it.

William sighed and settled himself again. He would sort out his thoughts when he was no longer in a pleasure filled haze.

He lifted his head enough to admire Marianne’s still glowing face.

He lazily traced her jaw with his finger. “May I ask what it is that you find so amusing, my dear?”

Her face brightened. “I used to hear women speak of how horrible the physical act of loving a man could be.”

William looked at her, stunned that she would ever hear such talk.

“Gossiping of servants.” She said by way of explanation. “They were trying to console their soon-to-be wed daughters while other, less merciful servants, taunted the poor girl with the pains and chores of the bed.” Her wide smile returned. “Ye have proved them all wrong.”

William’s insides warmed at the admission. “There was no pain?”

She shook her head. “Ye were very gentle. Those girls were silly cowards.” She continued to smile at him. “We will do that again.”

William felt his shaft twitch in response. Amazing. “As you wish, my dear.”

Chapter Eleven

Marianne awoke as though she were being lifted from a soothing bath. A delicious ache touched everywhere on her body. It comforted her with the knowledge of where it came from.

She stretched her legs down and her arms up, savoring the sensation before settling back into her nest of blankets, warm and comfortable despite the lack of a fire.

Yet she could not return to sleep. Her husband’s fingertips tickled up and down her naked arm. Marianne smiled.

As she suggested the night before, she and William stayed where they were to make love again. Only that time their garments had been entirely removed.

She admired his body the night of her bath when he insisted they become better acquainted with each other, but ‘twas completely different the second time. Her eyes took him in again, the sensation of touch accompanying her sight while she removed his under-tunic and hose.

He was no man. He was an angel. His skin had glowed as her fingers travelled along the warm flesh, and Marianne had prayed that he might think her half as beautiful as she did him.

He had satisfied her unasked question with his hurried removal of her clothes, hungry touches and throaty moans of pleasure escaped him as he touched and tasted her. Then her fears were forgotten.

Her skin touching his while he moved sent a stronger buzz though her bones than when they made love the first time. Even her hair came loose from the braid and cascaded plainly down her back as he insisted that everything be undone.

She never would have thought she could spend the better part of an afternoon and night in bed, and now it seemed she would have some difficulty with rising this morning, especially if William insisted on caressing her in that place.

She felt the heat of his face lower to her neck, and she opened her eyes. The press of lips trailed under her jaw and rose to her ear.

Marianne giggled when his kiss reached the sensitive area. She tilted her head to allow him better access, sighing when he moved to place the same treatment below her ear, along her throat and shoulders.

“If we do not present ourselves the servants will wonder where we went.” William said, his eyes meeting hers and lips returning to the sensitive skin below her ear.

She sensed his true meaning. His obvious wish to stay, conflicted with the responsibility that required him to go.

Marianne slid her eyes shut. What did she care for responsibilities? “They can handle themselves for now.”

“Can they?” Despite his words, he did not stop.

She nodded. “Aye, they know that if they do not do their work Hawisa and I shall scream their ears off.”

William laughed. Marianne opened her eyes so that she might see his amusement.

His lips stretched into a smile that touched and lit his eyes. His gaze could teach the stars to sparkle.

She touched his face, inspired by the thought. “I’m glad ‘twas you I forced to wed me.”

She spoke the words without thinking, but once they were out, she realized they were true.

He took her small hand into his larger one and brought it to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to her fingers. “As am I.”

He had said kind things to her before, had comforted her and never pushed her for what she could not give, but those words warmed her like naught he had ever said.

His hand traveled sensuously down her torso and legs, burning through the blanket she did not remember being covered with before falling asleep.

“As much as I prefer being here with you, we are not in our chamber, and if the servants think we are missing they shall call for Blaise, who will riot until we are found.”

Moaning, Marianne grabbed the woolen blanket and pulled it over her head.

“Am I to take that to mean you do not mind?” William asked.

She snorted. Marianne struggled with the thought of leaving her comfortable cocoon, turning her eyes away from William’s naked chest beneath the blanket, and getting up to ensure that the morning’s duties were handled properly.

“God’s teeth.” Marianne threw her covers off and hissed against the sudden cold as she searched for her chemise and gown.

Only when Marianne managed to half dress herself did she sense William watching. He stayed in bed, leaning against one arm and smiling leisurely as he observed her.

The blanket fell over his upper thigh, barely concealing his manhood, yet revealing his firm legs and his lightly haired chest. Seeing him barely clad was somehow more erotic than if he’d been completely naked.

Though she tried to refuse the blush, it came without her permission. She turned her face away and her nose found the air. “Ye are as bad as a curious boy.”

“Ah, but I am not curious. I have already had you. Now I merely wish to admire you.”

The heat ravaged her cheeks. She grabbed his tunic and flung it at him. He caught it and laughed again.

***

William rose to dress with her, contemplating taking her back to bed despite the consequences he’d told her of. But there were things that needed to be done and decisions to be made.

William should have gone with his men on their search for Marianne’s father. But the theft, while insulting, had not posed enough threat for him to leave her side. Not when she would likely do something rash without calm words to sooth her hissing spirit.

And now, Holton’s theft was not the only thing on his mind. Last night he said—to himself at least—that he loved Marianne.

Strange how thinking such things about his wife could stun him. As if he had been hit in the head with a club, or thrown from his horse.

He could allow himself to grow fond of her, to enjoy her like he had last night. So how was it possible for him to love after all the pain the emotion had brought him the last time he experienced it? The foolish way he acted because of it? Ruined a young woman’s life over it?

Even if he could love her, until he was certain that he could defend her from Ferdinand’s threat, if the man did indeed pose a threat, he would keep the emotion that squeezed in his chest under firm control. For both of their sakes.

***

Marianne could not finish tightening the back of her gown on her own. When she finished as much as she could, she looked to William, sensing the mood darkening around him, and puzzled over it.

Only a few moments ago he’d lain with her and laughed with her. Now she did not know what to make of him. His sudden scowl was uninviting and his back visibly taut. She reached out to touch him but he pulled away from her.

Her hand retracted. Though she had not touched him, she felt as though her entire body burned with painful rejection.

He tried to hide his behavior by smiling at her again. ‘Twas too late. She had already seen that something was amiss.

“Perhaps you shall spend more time with me today,” He said, leaning back with the air of a man who had everything his heart desired. Almost everything, at least.

Something he desired had to be missing.

Still, the invitation brought ease back into her nerves. She returned his smile. “I would like that.”

He stood. Marianne’s entire being warmed as he pulled her to him. Her body drank in his heat like a woman who had been without water for days.

He encircled her with his arms, bent to press his mouth to her lips, and the sensation was complete.

She was not aware that he pulled away until he spoke. “I must warn you that my work is far from exciting, unless ye believe sitting and writing for hours on end is excitement. I shall bore ye into leaving.”

Marianne shrugged. “Aye, ‘tis likely, but I would still wish to be with ye.” She would not tell him that she planned to seduce him from his work.

He kissed her again.

Oh, how his mouth made her lips tingle! Marianne arched her back and lifted her head for a better position. Her breath left her. She nearly forgot that they had to leave for their own chamber.

William chuckled as her eager mouth refused to leave his. He put his hands against her shoulders and pushed just enough to part their mouths, though she clutched his tunic, keeping their bodies firmly together.

“Eager imp, perhaps I have been too generous with you in bed.”

Marianne stood straighter, interest and awe in her voice. “If ye have more generosity I would like to know of it.”

His laugh was throaty, a sound that warmed Marianne’s insides, and when he kissed her again he kept the contact of their lips brief. “Aye, there is more to show you, but for now we must go.”

He all but shoved her out the door, and though Marianne was disappointed and eager for their next coupling, she returned to her working self and called out an order to have the room they’d spent the night in cleaned.

***

Marianne splashed her face with the cool water brought to her while Olma aided her with her hair and gown. James waited to be useful outside her chamber door.

William returned to his solar before she was ready, claiming some excuse for needing to calculate the loss from the theft into his records.

Marianne was not certain how keeping ledgers and taxes worked, but his sudden disappearance was much more than the need to tend to his books.

When they returned to their chamber earlier, their true chamber, William seemed to lose control as he tried to undress her. She aided him with quick fingers, until Olma let herself into their chamber unannounced.

In his embarrassment, William fled, grumbling about servants who did not know their place and the lack of privacy afforded to a lord.

Marianne would have throttled Olma for her bad timing had the look on the poor girl’s face not been so laughable.

What was more, James stood behind her, and upon seeing Marianne with her gown nearly halfway down her shoulders he’d flung his hands in front of his eyes and turned away.

Marianne chided Olma, though ‘twas only half hearted. She was too content to remain angry. “From now on be sure to make yourself known before barging in wherever you like.”

Olma bobbed quickly, averting her eyes. “Aye, milady.”

Marianne had attempted to glare at her. She was not very successful. “And there shall be consequences should any other servants hear of the tale.”

Once the warning left her lips, Marianne wondered why she had made the threat. She was the wife of William, and should they be found in a passionate embrace then who could say ‘twas wrong?

“Actually, I take back my last command.”

Olma eyed her as if she had gone mad.

“You may tell whomever you wish of this event,” Marianne grinned like a young girl and raised her arms, no longer wishing to play the part of offended lady simply to keep the servants in line. “I do not care!”

***

Guy Holton had not returned the night before, or arrived the next morn to explain his sudden departure.

Marianne clenched her hands together. She despised the fact that her father was a thief, and according to Blaise, herself by association as well.

Marianne had hoped William’s knights would find him and bring with them the story of his innocence.

Instead, by late evening the next day they brought back naught but news that his tracks led to the former Holton House. Ferdinand denied that Holton ever came to him.

William allowed her to be with him in the great hall when his men returned empty handed.

“Did ye ask to search his stables?” William asked.

The knight before him nodded, an older man whom Marianne had not seen before with thick grey eyebrows and matching hair. Despite his outward strength, he shivered uncontrollably even as he was questioned near the grand fire’s heat.

“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.”

“Though she does have the temperament to stage a kidnapping, and according to you, nearly ran her horse into the forest after she heard some cruel words from Holton.”

“‘Tis not the same.” William shook his head, refusing to believe Bryce’s logic. He asked the man for his aid, but this was not what he had in mind. “Alice and Marianne are both of the emotional sort, but Marianne handles it better than Alice ever did.”

Bryce chuckled. “Violent little thing, is she?”

William pictured Marianne pounding against his back as he lifted her towards the bed, and listened in his mind to the sounds of her shrieks at the servants, several of whom he walked passed with Bryce. He smiled. Now, on sight of him, they moved quicker with their duties. Not one servant stood idly without a job.

Alice brought a sadder memory. An emotional woman taught never to show sadness, anger, or fear. She bottled her feelings away until they drove her into the bed of another, lesser man.

William cleared his head, bringing his thoughts back to Marianne, who did no such thing with her emotions and brought a happy jump to his chest. “Aye, she is a lively sort, but ‘tis not all that troubles me.”

William told Bryce of his visit to Ferdinand, and the purchase of the servant women, and of the insinuation he received when the man spoke of Marianne. He added his suspicions over the way the older man gazed at his wife when they danced at the marriage celebration.

Bryce appeared thoughtful when the story was complete. “You believe he will have Marianne disappear as he did with Bertha?”

“Aye.”

“It explains why you show a sudden interest in yer skills with a sword after all these years, and why I have had to call my name to have the gate opened even though the men know me by sight.” Bryce grinned. “Having the lady force your hand has not been such a bad thing it seems. All I see here are improvements to your fortress, and I’ve not seen you so pleased or demanding of your men in ages.”

William grinned. He had to agree, he enjoyed the noticeable improvements to his life brought on by Marianne’s presence. And he himself no longer passed his days wasting away. Now there was light in his heart instead of shadows, something he’d not experienced since Alice passed.

“Which only creates an anxious feeling in my gut should my fears of Ferdinand be justified.” William said.

Bryce rubbed his face. “‘Tis a conversation for Hugh, who could tell you the strategies Ferdinand could be planning. There is still nothing to have us believe yer wife is in any danger. Ye worry with hunches.”

“I worry with instinct, and we did not think Bertha was in any danger either.” William retorted.

Bryce raised a finger. “Bertha was a prostitute. Women of the fleshy pleasures go missing all the time.”

“Aye, but she was also a favorite of Ferdinand’s, and he dangled the knowledge of my … indiscretions with Bertha in front of me until the day Alice died. Nicholas assured me himself that Bertha never advertised her clientele when he sent me to her. How else could Ferdinand have come by that information?”

They came to the stone wall surrounding the keep and stopped. William leaned his back against the wall for support. He could not be more certain that Ferdinand wished his wife harm, and he refused to allow her to simply disappear like Bertha had.

Not wishing to argue further, Bryce asked, “Do ye believe Holton’s theft has something to do with Ferdinand?”

“I will need to find out soon.”

Chapter Twelve

“Has Molly seen him lazing around the castle?”

“Nay, milady, he seems to have disappeared.

Marianne deflated, allowing the servant girl to pass and return to her work. Marianne arrived at the stables with a flurry of questions in her mind. Her plan to ask them was dashed when she discovered Robert absent, and none of the other grooms or maids knew where he went.

A familiar burning pierced the back of her neck, she was being watched. Marianne slapped her hand over the spot and spun towards the only possible culprit.

“Will you kindly cease staring holes into my neck!”

James caught up with them after he realized they made off without him, and every time Marianne felt a hot spike or the prickle of spider legs against her neck her mood grew more intolerable.

James’s eyes were currently pointed toward the grass and dirt at his feet, having been warned before. “I am not staring, milady.”

Marianne knew she was being unfair but could barely contain herself. William would not follow her again. The last time he had she had not felt this uneasiness in her body.

Marianne shivered and scratched her neck, praying that no real spider fell onto her clothes and searched for a warm place to sleep in her hair.

She sighed when she searched with her fingers and found none. The threat of bugs removed, she returned to her former thoughts. “William should be with Bryce, we will find them so that I may speak with him.”

If she discovered he attached another squire to her leg she swore she would never allow her husband to touch her ever again.

Well, perhaps she would not be so cruel. She would allow him to touch her sometimes.

Olma raised her head hopefully. “Are we not speaking with Robert, milady?”

“For now, aye, but when I find him later I will ask my questions.”

Truthfully, Marianne found herself glad for the delay. The closer she came to the stables the more her courage dwindled.

Adam had warned her to not delve into such private matters, and now that she and William were finally on agreeable footing, it would not be wise to test him by searching through the private affairs of his past.

Before she took her first step towards the courtyard the sight of two unfamiliar horses galloping in her direction stopped her.

She thought it might be Bryce and William, but no, neither rider was so big as Bryce, and the other horseman not as beautiful as her husband.

They slowed to a stop before her and Olma. James inched forward to make his presence known, and the two dismounted. Both men were of similar size and dress, though Marianne could never mistake them for brothers.

Their familiar faces suggested she had met them before. The lighter haired of the two sported a short cropped beard that had been well trimmed and curious green eyes that seemed to seek out all knowledge as he studied his surroundings.

The darker haired man stood straight with a wild air about him and a pair of equally dark eyes that flattered Marianne as they studied her.

They certainly did not come across to her as forgettable men. She must have met them briefly during the wedding celebration but then put them out of her mind when the horrible night finally ended and she was able to rest.

The men eyed her once and both grinned brightly as they recognized her. The man with the finer hair bowed respectfully while the dark haired man went to one knee, took her hand into both of his and, after some caressing placed a dramatic kiss on the skin. Marianne took her hand back, her entire body burning with attention.

“Milady Gray, forgive my sudden interruption of your walk. We were called by your husband, I am sir Nicholas Godwyn.”

“And I am sir Hugh Steele.”

The name sparked another memory. She curtsied when her hand was released. Forcing her blushing body under control, Marianne straightened and welcomed her guests. “Sir Nicholas, sir Hugh, my husband spoke of both of you. Had I known you were coming I would have had your rooms prepared. Or must you take leave at once?”

Nicholas laughed, but before he could reply either way William and Bryce ran to join them.

Bryce embraced Nicholas like an older brother would his much younger brother, by lifting him into the air for a tight bear hug with much back slapping.

When released Nicholas and William clasped hands like old friends. Hugh would not allow himself to be greeted like Nicholas and took Bryce’s much larger hand for a shake.

“Nicholas, Hugh, may I reintroduce my wife.”

Marianne curtsied again. William’s formerly joyous appearance melted from his face as he looked at her.

“My dear, why are you here?”

She detected the warning in his voice, and the way Bryce looked at him with a strange mixture of sympathy and caution. Marianne knew neither what to say nor where the warning came from.

Her body stiffened. He must suspect her prying.

“Only enjoying a walk, ‘tis a beautiful day and we have so few left before the first snow.”

He eyed her, as though judging whether or not her words were truthful.

Even though the chill in the air made it impossible, a bead of sweat rolled down her neck as she waited for him to make his decision.

Then, realizing that Hugh and Nicholas were seeing to their own horses, he seemed to forget about her. “Do not see to your horses, let the grooms handle them. Where is Robert?”

Though men did rush out, flustered, Nicholas and Hugh still escorted their animals inside to see to their care.

Marianne watched them go. “I am not sure where he is hiding, he is not to be found by anyone.”

Marianne turned away from the stables to look at her husband and found him staring at her with a strange sort of accusation in his eyes. She knew not from whence it came. Of the answers to the two questions he asked, the latter had been spoken truthfully and with ease, yet his jaw clenched.

Bryce continued to give William that peculiar stare until he placed his hand on William’s shoulder, which prompted him to cease his hurtful glaring at her.

Nicholas and Hugh returned from the stables, both laughing over some story Nicholas was telling until they came close enough to sense the thickness in the air between Marianne and her husband.

No movement commenced from any of William’s guests while he stared down at Marianne.

Suffocating under the intense heat of his stare, Marianne could no longer stand there and suffer in silence. Surely he must know what she had been doing, and now she would be fortunate if he waited until they were alone before turning his anger loose on her.

She opened her mouth to confess, but William spoke to her first, and she held the breath that had been difficult to take in.

“You will forgive me if I have pressing matters to attend to?”

Marianne blinked. She had not expected his calm demeanor and soft gaze.

Remembering his guests, and that he had been making an effort to improve his sword skills, she determined they were the matters that needed attending to.

Still, she did no believe for a moment that this would be the last she would see of his anger. It would drive her mad waiting for him to confront her with his accusations later.

Why had she not thought about the consequences of her actions before carrying them out?

“Of—of course.”

The four men quietly turned and went back in the direction of their training space near the courtyard. Bryce, Hugh and Nicholas stole curious glances at Marianne as they went.

William never looked back at her, and Marianne watched them go with her eyes focused on William’s back. Regret filled her.

He had not made a declaration of love to her last night, but what they shared opened a door to her that had previously been shut, a door leading to him. ‘Twas important enough for her to have no desire of returning to their former hostile and suspicious natures.

“Milady? ‘Tis getting cold, perhaps we should go inside?” Olma said, shivering for affect, but Marianne ignored her.

William barely spoke a word to her, and she was sure he knew she was seeking out Robert. If he was aware that she was digging where she ought not to be, he should have given her a verbal thrashing for it where she stood.

Yet he did not. He walked away to the consoling words of his friends.

What had he thought she was doing that was so terrible it could not be spoken aloud?

Marianne became angry. A suspicion formed in her mind as to what he thought she would be seeking out another man for, and instead of asking her about it he left to think horrible thoughts about her with his companions.

Men, they never wished to speak about anything, and forever would women suffer for it. No matter, she would make him speak and tell her what he thought she was doing. Then she would scream at him for daring to insult her in such a manner.

“Milady? Milady!” James called when she stormed in the direction of her husband.

She should have realized that one night in his bed would not change how he felt about her. His feelings remained the same as they had ever been. Lust.

She was a bed partner to him and nothing more. That would not do at all.

Marianne spared no time to be surprised when she came upon them and discovered them not training, but speaking of other things. She was too angry to hear anything other than her own name from William’s lips, suggesting that the entire conversation had been about her.

William’s back was to her as she came, but he did not see the shocked stares of his friends until she forcefully spun him around.

“I demand to know why your feelings towards me have not changed.”

“What?” He looked at his shocked friends, and then over Marianne’s head, as if searching for the source of her sudden madness.

Olma and James stood watching in the distance, having stopped following her so that she might have some privacy to rage at her husband. Then receive her punishment for it.

Marianne paid no mind to the confusion on his face, rage took over and she continued to babble her words without thinking. “What did you think my purpose was with Robert? I spend one night in your bed and am a whore now, is that how I am?”

His eyes narrowed at her, teeth bared. “You know not of what you speak.”

She jabbed the center of his chest with her finger. “You refuse to trust me!”

“Refuse to trust you!” He roared. Marianne shot back a step. “I have defended you when my own son accused you of aiding your father in the theft from my castle, after you have me brought to a church by force for a marriage! And you say I place no trust upon you?”

Nicholas stepped forward and asked her gingerly, “Milady, forgive me, but what was your purpose in seeking out Robert?”

Marianne flushed and folded her arms. “I was enjoying a walk, nothing more.” She put emphasis on the last of her sentence, hoping to ward off more questions.

William glared at her, a vicious look Marianne had never seen on him before. “James!” He called. “Come here!”

The young squire jogged forward. If Marianne thought her screams frightened him ‘twas nothing compared to how he refused to look in William’s eye now.

“What was my wife doing seeking out Robert?” William asked when he was near enough.

James had the good sense to look embarrassed. “I do not know, milord. She said nothing to me and I only found them near the stables after they got away from me.”

William turned to Olma and sneered at her as well. “You would only protect your lady and not say anything.”

Marianne snapped at him. “Do not be harsh with her. ‘Tis not her fault you cannot control yourself.”

“I cannot control myself? You, my dear, have less self control than any living creature I have ever met. ‘Tis your lack of control that put us here!”

The second insinuation towards his regret of the marriage was the last she could take. Without commanding her body to act, she squared her shoulders before his taller frame and slapped him. The resounding crack echoing loudly enough to send birds from their nests in the woods, Marianne was sure.

The demanding fury on William’s face melted into stunned disbelief before her eyes. And because she was a coward, Marianne fled from him before he could do anything to her in return.

Tears streamed down her cheeks as she blindly ran, humiliation and heartbreak throbbing in her chest and escaping her throat in choked sobs.

He did not love her. He regretted that they were wed, that she had chained him to her with her foolishness

And he was correct. Of the two of them, she had the least control.

***

William watched her go, frozen in place and hand on his tingling cheek, Olma and James scurried after their lady. William turned, similar looks of shock were on all three men behind him.

“Are you certain she was not raised by a pack of wild dogs?” Hugh asked.

“A woman’s temper is not a thing to be trifled with,” Nicholas replied when William did not.

William was thankful that neither of he nor his wife had given this show of temper in front of anyone else. Regardless, William was at a loss for what he should do.

Part of him wished to punish her so that she would know to never behave in such a way again, but he knew that to do so would be to kill the fire in her that he did indeed love.

Regardless, he could not trust himself to leave her be now. Whether he punished her or not, if he did not go after her she was sure to do something rash again.

Nicholas smirked, seeming to already know what William would do before he did. “We forgive you for your cruel abandonment of your guests. A woman’s hissing heart needs to be soothed before it blackens against her spouse.”

Bryce rolled his eyed and rubbed his face. “God’s teeth, will ye kindly shut that romantic nonsense up? I’ll be forced to throttle ye if ye spew anymore of it.”

Satisfied that his guests would not bear any grudge against him, William went after his wife.

***

Marianne had to run into the castle and take several turns before she was satisfied James and Olma would not find her. She loved Olma and was growing fond of the boy but she needed to be left alone with her humiliation.

‘Twas the second time he had suggested she was having an affair and the second time he claimed to regret their marriage. She could take it no more, so she slapped him.

The nerve of him! How could he suggest such a thing?

She rubbed away the moisture on her cheeks and the guilty tingle in her palm as she sat herself on a bench outside of the Chapel. ‘Twas quiet, something she thought she needed but the silence only prompted her to think about her mistake.

She’d struck him, in front of his friends. If there would be a penalty then she would pay it. Though no love existed between them, she felt certain what they shared would have brought some level of trust between them.

She knew better now.

Already tired of sitting and sniffling, Marianne rose to her feet and went back to the stables, rubbing the annoying tingle in her palm along the way.

She went inside and this time was glad to find Robert absent.

The grooms saw her and looked amongst themselves. The bravest came forth.

“Ye be needin’ any help, milady?”

Marianne forced a smile to her trembling lips. “Nay, I merely came to enjoy the animals.”

He nodded and bowed, though before he turned away his eyes went to hers. There was concern on his face.

Marianne wiped her cheeks. Moisture touched her fingers.

She sighed. ‘Twould be obvious to any who saw her that she’d been weeping.

She took a breath and allowed herself to relax. The grooms returned to their duties quietly, occasionally they gazed at her, as if they assumed she was only there to search for flaws in their work.

She was not. The scent of horses, leather, and old grass soothed her. She went to the mare her father brought with him and debated on taking her for a ride. She should give her a name at the very least. None of those things would take her mind from her husband.

She made up her mind to brush the mare when William’s voice stopped her. She stiffened.

“Could you explain to me why I am not surprised with your presence here?”

Stiffly she turned and faced him. She distinguished the red mark on his cheek as her own handprint even from the distance. She looked away. “Despite what you are thinking, I came here to spend time with my horse.” As if to prove it she found the brush and began grooming her.

His voice rumbled. “Everyone out.”

There was a brief and curious hesitation among the men in the stables before they dropped their tools and did as their lord bid them. Marianne heard the footsteps and watched the shadows of each man disappear outside the stable. She flinched when the door closed behind them.

She was alone with her husband.

He came forth at a leisurely pace. The sound of his feet made her pause. Soon he stood on the other side of the mare. Though she detected no anger in him she grimaced when he spoke. “I shall help you.”

Her head flew up, he picked up another brush and worked on the mare’s other side. The act shocked Marianne into dropping her own brush.

She rushed to pick it up. “Are you not furious?”

“Aye, but knowing you, ‘twould likely not matter.”

She flinched, and her voice came out small as she thumbed the brush in her hand. “‘Twould matter.”

He stopped his actions to stare at her. “Does it now? Ye run so wild that it seems ye care very little if I am humiliated or not.”

“You said you loved my spirit.” A useless defense, yet it was all she had. The only thing he ever claimed to love about her, and she clung to it.

“Aye, but spirit and foolishness are not quite the same, are they? Your temper, in front of my guests, good friends or not, will need to be controlled from now on.”

She remained silent, knowing he was waiting for her to argue, but nothing came to her. She had no urge to go against him.

She nodded instead. “Aye.”

She looked up in time to see his brows had shot up. “You agree?”

She nodded again. “Aye.”

He swayed comically on his feet. She could not help the little smile on her lips. “Will wonders never cease? You agree with me?”

She looked him straight in his blue eyes. “I do, but you must forgive me this one time. ‘Tis difficult to be constantly accused of having affairs with the men in the household.”

“I never accused you of such a thing with Robert.”

Marianne grumbled. “You had no need to. I saw right through you.”

He said nothing at first, then nodded. “You are correct. I apologize.”

She waited. “And?”

The confusion in his eyes brought out her temper. She took a deep breath. Hadn’t she just agreed with him that her temper needed to be controlled?

“You accused me of having a lover’s tryst with Blaise.” She said, though despite her efforts her words came out in a hiss.

Understanding dawned. “Ah. Aye, yes, I remember that now.”

She waited for him to explain, but he continued to brush the pleased mare.

“Will you not tell me why you feel the constant need to insult your wife?”

He looked at her, sighed and lowered his brush. The mare turned to see what the trouble was but he walked around her nose towards Marianne and took her hand.

“I shall assume that ‘tis no secret you already suspect Blaise’s parentage.”

Her words to Blaise came back to haunt her. She flushed.

“And I do not believe for one moment that you are of William’s blood.”

More proof that she did indeed need to control herself.

William expression turned curious at the pained look on her face. “Shall I continue?”

“Yes,” Marianne said quickly. “Please, do. I am sorry, but I have mentioned this suspicion to Blaise already.”

William’s lips thinned, displeasure clear on his face. Marianne wished she had the ability to see his thoughts.

Finally, he replied and continued brushing the mare. “’Twas not a great secret, I suppose I cannot have you punished for asking about that which nearly everyone is aware.”

She was silent, more ashamed of herself than she had ever been and she hugged herself. “Perhaps forcing you to wed me has been the only intelligent act of my life, as no other man would have had the patience, and I would have been sent to a convent.”

He smiled at her attempt to lighten the dark mood. Her spirits lifted.

William took a breath and spoke clearly. “Blaise is the son of my first wife, Alice, and Robert. She went to his bed shortly after our marriage.”

Marianne gasped, a thousand questions swirling through her head.

“You must forgive me, as any doubt I have ever expressed of your loyalty has stemmed from that event all those years ago.”

“But why keep Blaise as your son, why allow Robert to continue to serve here at all?”

His smile was laced with an old sadness. “I loved Alice, and I have no doubt that she returned that love. Her tryst with Robert was an error more on my part than hers.”

Marianne cocked her head curiously, but he continued to speak before she could ask more questions.

“I drove her to him.”

Marianne did not believe that, but there was no venom in her voice when she spoke her thoughts. “Though you can be infuriating, for all your patience with me I find it difficult to believe that you could send any woman to another man’s bed.”

“You would be surprised at what could send a wife into the arms of another man. Even a servant who offered her some slight kindness.” William stopped brushing as he spoke, and the mare nudged him for attention. He ignored the animal and took Marianne’s hand. They moved to a corner of the stable.

He touched her cheek, gently with the back of his knuckles. Marianne enjoyed the feeling but her curiosity was not settled.

“And, what could send a lady into the bed of a servant?”

Her back was to the wall of the stable and he stood wonderfully close. The fear she felt at his oncoming punishment was no more.

“How did you feel when we consummated our marriage?”

The question brought her out of her haze. “I beg your pardon?”

He continued as though he hadn’t heard her. “Did you feel loved? Were you satisfied?”

His question embarrassed her and poured heat into her body. “‘Tis not the place to be stroking your ego.”

He shook his head and smiled. She was certain he was smiling at her expense. “There is no ego involved. Answer the question.”

Marianne shifted, blushed, and answered despite herself. “‘Twas very pleasant.”

“Pleasant enough to put color in your cheeks, I see.” A slow, confidant smile lit up his face.

Her cheeks only colored more. She nodded, then watched as his smile vanished.

“Would it then shock you to learn that such intimacy can be used to cause pain? Not only of the heart, but true physical pain? Some men are skilled enough to use it as a form of torture.”

Marianne laughed, once. William did not laugh with her, his expression heavy, and so she was silent.

From what William had made her feel, in her heart and body, it seemed impossible that such an act could ever be used for torture. Yet he stood, determined and severe, telling her so.

“How can that be?”

“Young men are mostly guilty of this. They are as unskilled in the bed as their lovers or wives, and are unaware that to prevent this pain in the woman’s body, the passions of both parties needs to be stirred. ‘Tis thought to be normal for a woman not to enjoy the physical attentions of her husband.”

Marianne suddenly knew what he was referring to. “Do you mean Alice?”

He closed his eyes and nodded. “Aye. I had not known ‘twas possible we could be intimate without causing her some discomfort, and she believed I was causing her harm purposefully. Rather than hurt her further, I ceased to perform my duties as her husband. She took it to mean that I had ceased to love her as well.”

William backed away from her to pace. Marianne’s body chilled now that the heat of him left her. Suddenly his back was to her. Her heart went out to him but she felt that he needed to speak without interruption.

“Nicholas suggested a way in which I might learn the ways of the bed. A woman by the name of Bertha, a prostitute Nicholas favored, would teach me, and in my young foolishness I accepted.”

He faced her again, the strain of retelling the story etched on his face. “Unfortunately she was also a favorite of Sir Ferdinand. A spiteful man. When he discovered I was paying for her services, he held the information over me until Alice died in childbirth. Bertha disappeared after and was never seen again.”

Marianne exhaled, hearing the unsaid accusation toward the man who might have been her husband. Cold fear sprang into her chest for what she had barely escaped. “Good lord.”

“Does it upset you, hearing this?”

It did, but she found his honesty exhilarating. “Nay, you may continue.”

He hesitated a moment, trying to find himself again. “Alice took her comfort in Robert, who convinced her that if I did indeed love her, I would not put her through such an ordeal. She confessed everything to me some weeks later, and in my weakness I could not reveal my own sins. But before Bertha disappeared I halted my appointments with her so that I might again be a faithful husband.”

Marianne’s love for him swelled, but her heart broke within the same moment. “You forgave her, but why not send Robert away? Punish him for his part in this?”

“I have punished him. Though you have likely not seen it, he is missing two fingers on his right hand.”

Marianne’s hand shot to her throat. If William found pleasure in the telling of what he was capable of doing to another man, it did not show on his face.

Now that she thought of it, she had seen Robert hiding his hand from her before. The first moment she saw him his arm was at such an angle that she could not see all of the fingers on his right hand.

“I thought your skills with a blade was poor?” She asked.

He nodded. “They are, but ‘twas not always the case, I once knew how to handle my weapons quite well. When Alice died, I foolishly ceased practicing, and there were no battles to be had anyway. I had not realized how poor I had become until just last year when I lifted a sword and found myself clumsy with it.”

“Any other man would have killed the servant who touched his wife.” Despite his now calm manner, she was surprised that he had not done so.

Again, William nodded. “As I explained, I felt some of the responsibility was my own. I sent Robert away, but he came to me a few years later, starving, during the winter months. I took pity on him and allowed him to return. Had I known Blaise would grow to look so much like him in more than just the color of his hair, I would have given Robert to Bryce.” He shook his head. “‘Tis far too late for that, now.”

Marianne went to him. She could bear the distance between them no longer. She took his larger hand into her smaller ones and kissed the knuckles there. Such a kind heart did not deserve this pain.

She did not wish to hear more about his love for another woman, a love that had nearly destroyed him, but a part of her did wish to know, to have him lift the burdens from his chest and be free. Marianne wanted to be the one to take his pain from him. “Alice died in childbirth?”

William nodded. “Yes, though not straight away, and while with child she never hinted that the baby might not be mine. After giving birth she held Blaise and saw the color of his hair.” He shook his head. “I could not deny them, I loved her and as far as I was concerned, he was my son.”

“And you told her this?”

“Aye.” He gave a hollow sort of laugh. “I could not even part with him so that he might become a page to another lord, but I did not wish for him to be influenced by Robert the way Alice had been. Bryce handled all of his training so that I would be near.”

Marianne lifted herself up and kissed him. She meant for it to only be a gentle thing to reassure him that, unlike Alice, she would never be swayed, that she would always be loyal, always have faith in him, but he clutched her shoulders and pulled her close, crushing his mouth to hers.

Marianne recognized the difference between this kiss and the kisses he gave to her when he tried to stir her interests in loving, or when they performed the act of making love.

This kiss, while desperate, was filled with a different need. She reassured him by returning his brutal kiss and sliding her fingers in his hair. She opened her mouth to him and he groaned and plundered.

When she released his lips, her breath was short. “Every son I bear will be of your blood. Alice was fortunate to have you.”

He smiled that same sad smile at her, refusing to release her. “Blaise hardly believes so.” It was such a sad thing to say.

Images of Blaise, angry and glaring at his father, came to mind, and Marianne knew she had the answer for why he would be so hostile towards the man who raised him as his own.

“My mother died giving birth to me as well,” she said, William’s honesty prompting her to reveal her own secrets. “Though he never spoke of it, I always felt that my father placed the blame on me. He used her death to excuse his gambling habits.”

William rubbed his hands up and down her arms. “You believe Blaise places blame on me for the death of his mother?”

She leaned against the warmth of his chest, listening to the beating of his heart within. Such a soothing sound. She could drift off to sleep there. “‘Tis possible. You blame yourself for her actions, and I have seen him with Robert. Perhaps Robert swayed Blaise’s thoughts the way he did with Alice.” Just as William always feared he would.

A thought suddenly occurred to her. Perhaps he was also the reason for Blaise’s cruelty towards her. What if Robert had no desire to see the boy who was his child through blood marry and forget that he existed?

Marianne put the thought away for later. Right now she would focus on her time with her husband. “If Blaise was squired with Sir Ironside, then he must have just completed that training and only recently come under Robert’s influence.”

William sighed. “I had hoped adulthood would sharpen his mind against such an attack. It seems I was mistaken.”

Marianne took his hand into hers. ‘Twas cold when she kissed it. “There is still time. He is your son, regardless of blood. You cared for him. And I must forgive him if there is to ever be peace, then ask for his forgiveness in return.”

William stroked her red hair, the action gentle and tender. Then he wrapped his large fingers around her smaller wrists, his grip tight and unyielding. Marianne was startled when she struggled and he refused to release her. He pressed her wrists into the cold wall behind her.

The sudden tightening in his eyes that formed from the calm waters they once were frightened her. “What are you—?”

“I want you to make a promise.”

She blinked. His blue eyes bore into her own and she knew whatever he wished to say would not wait. “Very well.”

“I do not believe in striking the one who shares my bed, and as my wife I expect the same from you.”

The hand she had slapped him with tingled again, and it had nothing to do with the tightness of his grip. Guiltily, she turned her face away.

He released one of her wrists and lifted her chin, the tenderness in his touch returning.

Marianne took a breath to calm her beating heart and nodded. Her eyes pricked with stinging tears. “I promise. I am sorry.”

He released her other wrist and cupped her cheeks. “Was that so difficult?” He pressed a chaste kiss to her lips. “Remember, I have seen you hold your temper in an effort to vex me. I know your capabilities.”

She laughed and wiped her eyes, looking up at him, she wished to tell him more of herself. “I never had a nurse.”

His eyebrows flew up at her words. “Nay?”

She shook her head. “‘Tis no excuse for my behavior, but I never had a nurse to teach me to be a lady. Everything I know I learned from Reggie.”

“Reggie?”

She nodded and continued to wipe the cold tears from her cheeks. “My brother, Reginald. He tried to teach me as much as he could about running a household—”

William nodded. “I recall you spoke of them. Their graves.” He spoke the last part awkwardly then cleared his throat. “I would say your brother succeeded in his teachings with the way you have the servants scampering about.”

She laughed. “Aye, but whatever manners I have came from him. As hard as he tried he could not teach me to embroider anything. Instead I learned his writing and colorful language.”

William smiled. “‘Tis believable that a lady kidnapper would need to know such things to gather her men and offer them payment for taking a man hostage.”

“Aye, though I did not know nearly enough, seeing as they kidnapped the wrong Lord Gray.”

He brushed her cheek with his knuckles. Marianne leaned into the touch, a need rising for him at that unexplainable moment, but ‘twould have to wait.

“It would seem, my dear, that now we have no secrets from each other.”

Chapter Thirteen

After speaking with her husband, Marianne left the stables and immediately sought out Blaise. She found him at the mews, idly stroking a sparrow hawk perched on his gloved hand.

She eyed the bird cautiously and waited for him to return the creature to its weathering space before going to him. Though she doubted he would send the animal after her, she did not wish to take the chance.

However, what she was about to do seemed so much more frightening.

But she would do it. She would have courage and make peace for her husband, herself, and Blaise. No more brawling.

When he finished with the bird, his eyes spotted her and hardened. “Come to shout more obscene lies at me already? I assumed you grew tired for the night and wished to wait until morn.”

Marianne clenched her jaw. Calm. Peace. She would not provoke him with the admission that her claim that he was not of William’s blood was no lie.

She was thankful William agreed to let her do this on her own. If he had stood behind her then Blaise would think the apology was being forced. Still, she could not ignore the prickling at the back of her neck.

Straightening her back and calming her nerves, she said what she came to say. “Nay, I have come to offer my apologies.”

Marianne held her hands calmly in front of her, thought sweet, serene thoughts, and eyed him with no malice.

His open-mouthed expression bathed her in satisfaction. He stepped back and wavered, and she was thankful again that she waited until he put the little hawk back on its perch before apologizing.

His face nearly brought Marianne to laughter. She wished she had thought to apologize to him sooner.

Blaise righted himself, anger and suspicion cascading from his eyes like a strong waterfall. “Do ye think me a fool? What is this nonsense?”

She shook her head, no hint of a smile on her face. “‘Tis not nonsense, though if you wish to believe ‘tis so then you have the right. ‘Twas wrong for me to have said what I did. And I should not have attempted to claw your eyes on the day of our meeting.”

What else could she say about herself that would make her apology sound sincere? She put a finger on her chin in thought. “‘Twas most unladylike of me.”

Blaise had his mouth open again. She waited for him to say something in return, though she doubted he would apologize for his behavior. At least not until he was certain she was not making a fool of him.

A sound came from his throat. His lips moved, but he seemed unable to properly respond.

Marianne could not have been more delighted, and she congratulated herself on hiding her joy. This had been a much easier task than she thought. “I shall accept your apology in return, and bid you good day now as I need to oversee the cooks do not burn the pheasant and leek pie again.”

With that, she spun on her heel and left him standing there. Only when her back was turned did she allow herself to smile at the silly face he made.

***

Marianne set out to make good on her word to control her temper.

William was correct, ‘twas much easier than what even she expected since all the servants were now alive with bustle and work.

There was no need to shout for someone to finish a task they ignored since they all seemed to have learned their lessons. And if she had reason to a foul temper, she found that when inhaling and exhaling deeply was a great help. All that was left was for Marianne was to stand watch and ensure their behavior remained productive.

That, and brood over the fact that William’s love for Alice was much stronger than anything he could ever give to her.

She had fooled herself into thinking otherwise when he performed his husbandly duties. Likely because of how well, and how often, he performed them.

‘Twas not merely a duty to her, though. Not if she was honest with herself. Marianne adored the special attention he bestowed upon her when they were alone. She looked forward to it whenever William was out of sight, sighing and longing for night to come quicker so he would be with her. She especially enjoyed how he held and kissed her, before, during, and afterwards.

Though the feeling of bare skin on skin was a delight that stirred the heat in her belly, Marianne was always left saddened when they finished climbing to that exquisite, pleasurable high. The truth of her situation always returned to her in those moments.

William loved Alice. He loved her enough to raise a child not his own. Just because he made Marianne’s flesh ache at night, and stroked her tenderly as she drifted to sleep, did not change that.

As the days turned into weeks Marianne found the courage to ask Adam what the former mistress of Graystone had looked like.

The man had smiled, as though the memory of her was a pleasure to be recalled.

“Not that my own thoughts on the matter are of any importance, but she was a kind, lovely sort. Her voice as gentle as she, with hair the color of sunshine.”

The poetic description did naught for her mood.

Of all things, the woman had been dainty and beautiful. Marianne should feel ashamed for wishing to compete with a woman long dead, but she could not stop the bitterness from swelling.

At least she had an understanding with her husband. A friendship, even. ‘Twas much more than most would ever have, and all because they had finally spoken in the stables.

There was only one tiny detail left unattended.

William had been almost correct when he said there were no secrets between them. Marianne still held a few of her own. The first being that she had fallen in love with him, and the second, that since their talk in the stables those weeks ago, Marianne became aware that she was late for her monthly course.

She was never late.

No matter. ‘Twould not be a secret she kept for long. The moment she was sure of her condition she would tell William. Until then she had no wish to give him false hopes.

Marianne sighed and put away her embroidery, something she found little skill in since she never had a mother or nurse to teach it to her. Reggie, despite his best efforts, could never teach her the finer points of it either.

“Olma, come with me while I see my horse?”

Olma looked up from her own work, stood and bobbed. “Aye, milady.”

“Thank you.”

‘Twas another new habit of hers, offering her thanks and praise to the servants who most deserved it. Something she’d neglected when she first entered the Graystone castle.

Marianne stood and allowed Olma to fetch her cloak. Outside of her chamber stood James, sniffling miserably with cold.

Marianne eyed his red nose and squinting, watery eyes with pity. Though the air outside was becoming more and more chilled, and other serfs and men-at-arms sneezing violently, she could not help but think his malady was her doing.

Having him chase her about the castle and out in the cold those many times was surely the cause.

“I suppose ‘twould do no good to offer you the chance to stay in the great hall by the fire?”

He shook his head and sneezed, turning his head so that the sneeze pointed away from her and then sniffing loudly. “Nay, bilady. I hab my orders.”

Why did William still bother with having her followed like this? She was no longer at risk to flee the castle at any small provocation.

“Olma, you may tend to him while I visit Mare. I will not be long so there is no point in having you both so near.”

Marianne had finally settled with calling the old mare Mare when it became apparent it was the only name to which the horse answered.

Olma bobbed, smiling under her headdress as she and James accompanied Marianne through the corridors and outside. The air was dry and cold, piercing and prickling her cheeks. Her breath clouded in the air.

She looked up at the gray sky, the clouds made a low ceiling over her head. “We shall have snow tonight I think.”

She ignored James’ groan at her declaration and proceeded to the stables. As was custom, James stood outside the doors while Marianne went in.

“I will not be long.” She assured them when she shut the door. The air was less chilled, but Marianne kept her cloak about her shoulders, and the familiar scent of horses and hay was welcome.

Not a man was in the stable but Archer. He stopped brushing Benedict when his eyes found her. He smiled and bowed. “Milady.”

Happiness and relief filled her at the sight of him and not Robert. Just because she apologized to Blaise did not mean she owed anything to Robert for what he had done to William.

Every time she went to visit Mare and found that horrible servant there she had difficulty holding her tongue. Though that did not explain the absence of the others.

“Where are the other grooms?”

Archer laughed, still brushing benedict’s dark coat to a gleaming shine. “chilled grooms tend to run and find a fire for several moments when they believe no one shall catch them.”

She smiled and stepped forth. “And why have you not gone?”

He moved around to brush the other side of the proud stud. “Someone needs to keep the beasts from freezing.”

“Well, have no fear. They will return to their posts when I find a way of punishing them without placing blame on you for telling their secret.”

Archer chuckled.

Marianne moved in a straight line towards Mare and patted her large nose affectionately.

“Has she been fed today?”

Though Archer continued to brush Benedict with his back to her, she could detect the grin in his voice. “Aye, milady, though if you ask her she will disagree with me.”

He stopped his brushing and threw a blanket over Benedict’s dark coat to ward off the chill seeping into the stables.

“Enjoys her oats a little much, that one.”

Marianne eyed her swollen belly.

Though Mare’s large stomach had naught to do with Marianne’s possible condition, she found herself touching her own belly and wondering how big she would get.

“I suppose I would enjoy my oats if I had been starved so the dogs could have the meat off my back when I died.” She replied, and Mare nudged her again. Marianne grabbed a generous handful of grass and held it out for her.

Archer shook his head. “You are too softhearted, milady. Just be cautious not to feed her very much. Soon she will have to rely on the winter storage.”

Marianne sighed. “You are right.” And she allowed Mare to take one more bite before removing the hay from under her nose.

“Do you think her fit for a ride?”

She wished it could be so, herself on Mare, William riding beside her on Benedict, pleasant conversation and time alone when she told him of her pregnancy. If she indeed was pregnant.

Archer shook his head, disappointing her. “Nay. Perhaps in the spring when she has had more time to gather more than fat.”

The sound of James’s sneezing outside reminded her of her promise not to be long, but Marianne had trouble leaving.

Mare had become special to her. Marianne had hoped to have the comforting animal with her when she rode with William.

She would just have to choose another horse to ride when she told William the news. Waiting until spring would be much too long. By then he was certain to notice her filling belly and widening waist.

The thought brought a smile to her lips. William was a wonderful father to Blaise. He would enjoy having another child.

Her own father had been a questionable man in the end, but at least at Graystone Marianne and her child would have a good home.

She looked at Archer who had taken a seat on a stool to inspect Benedict’s legs, and she thought of his family. “When will Robert come to relieve you of your post?”

“Soon, milady.”

“How soon?”

He looked at her. “In a few minutes I should think.”

“Go to your family then, you have worked hard and should enjoy an early night.

His face twisted in horror at the idea. “I could not leave you here to tend the horses.” Even as he said it he stood up. Had he not known her so well he would have done no such thing, she was sure.

Marianne smiled and put her nose in the air. “I am telling you to go to your woman and retire to bed before you catch a chill like poor James.”

James outside sneezed violently three times the second the words left her lips.

She smiled at Archer, as if that alone had won her the argument. “I shall not do any chores. I will just keep them company until Robert arrives. I insist.”

“Thank you, milady.” Archer said, moving towards the doors. He looked at her once more before opening them enough to let himself out.

He spoke to James briefly outside before his voice grew too soft to hear.

Marianne smiled and picked up the dried grass she had been feeding to Mare. One more handful would not harm anything.

Feeding the horse became her favorite pastime since she could no longer count on Olma to give Marianne her full attention. Not since the girl became interested in James.

What would it be like to openly admire and love William like Olma did with James?

It did not matter. William promised her that his cousin, Lady Anne, would be coming to visit. And Marianne could speak with someone who could respond to her and gossip freely.

She was so caught up with her thoughts that when a fresh swirl of cold winds came over her, she dropped the hay in startled shock.

Marianne turned, Robert stood at the now closed doors.

Her eyes narrowed at his hateful form. “Enter more quickly next time,” She said, focusing all her attention on Mare. “The horses do not need the cold.”

“Aye, milady,” he stepped into the relative warmth of the stable, eyes darting about. “Where has Archer gone off to?”

“I sent him to his wife and child for the night.” She looked at him, and her eyes were drawn to his right hand.

He stood with his arm hanging at a slight angle. His thumb twisting to mask the space where his two fingers used to be. She now knew what he hid from her, and she shivered.

He stepped closer, removing his cloak and holding it towards her. “You are cold, milady.”

She cringed away at the sight of the filthy cloak. “Nay, I am perfectly fine.”

He did not slow. He kept coming nearer to her. Marianne refused to back away lest she allow him to believe that the lady of the castle was frightened of her servants. He was soon upon her.

She stared him in the eyes, willing him to turn away from her. Not even Archer dared to stand so close. “I have no use for that. My cloak is fine.”

“I insist.” He sprung, pulling a leather strap hidden under the cloak and twisting it about her neck before she could draw breath for her scream.

She fell back. His grip on her neck caught her but her legs gave out and she was forced down.

Robert followed her to the hay strewn floor. His grip did not slack as he climbed on top of her to still her kicking legs with his body.

Marianne clasped his wrists and tried to pry herself free. Her fingernails sank into his flesh but he held firm.

Her neck seared with pain from the leather and her throat burned, lungs constricting for air that would not come. Her face became hot.

Marianne turned her fingernails loose into his hands. His fading image winced but he refused to release her.

Her tongue thickened, she tasted wool in her mouth. A strange sound vibrated in her ears.
Then all that existed was blackness.

***

William laughed when Bryce’s sword fell out of his hand. The larger man watched it clang to the floor as if he had never thought such a thing was possible.

Playfully, William lifted the man’s chin with the tip of his winning blade.

“My game.”

Bryce grinned, raising his hands mockingly. “So it is, milord.”

Nicholas, laughing merrily, clapped his hands from his seat. Hugh shook his head and handed the man a coin.

“Your odds are bettering, my friend,” said Hugh. “At this rate Nicholas will have all his money back.”

William nodded, though any pity for his gambling friends would not come from him.

He had much to be thankful and happy about, more than just his returning skill.

His servants were working harder than he had seen in years, a small peace was set between his wife and son.

And he was very much in love with his wife, his Marianne, and no longer fearful of admitting it to himself or to his bride. She had been wonderfully accepting of his past sins and always eager to learn more and please him in their bed.

What more could he ask?

“Aye, but I believe we should take our next match outdoors, ‘tis not wise to be sword playing in my solar.” William said.

“‘Tis too cold.” Said Nicholas, moving closer to the fire. “That is why you are a lord, so that you might play indoors.”

William was about to tell him that their next match would be held outside on the morn when his doors burst open.

Olma ran inside accompanied by Adam. He clutched her arm, holding her upright as she was so red in the face and out of breath that standing looked to be a chore. Frozen tears unthawed against her cheeks.

“My lord,” said Adam. “The girl has found James wounded, and your wife is missing.”

William’s insides shifted.

***

Marianne stirred. Her head throbbed on all sides and her breath came hot against her face, yet her entire body tingled with freeze.

She frowned, recalling her strange dream and noting how her bed rocked up and down, right and left.

She thought of telling the servants to tend to the fire and bring her something warm to drink. She was so sick with dizziness she felt such a strange rocking.

Just thinking of the servants brought a memory of Robert and his attack in the stable.

She gasped and her eyes flew open, aware of herself and what had taken place even though she still could not see.

The material against her face brought the answer. A horse blanket.

Robert covered her with a horse blanket, and what she had once been so incoherent to think was her bed was really the hard wooden surface of a haycart. The sound of a horse trudging through the cold mud sickened her with horror.

He was taking her somewhere.

She only prayed he had not noticed she awoke.

Her mind raced. Had Robert intended to kill her? Her hands and feet were not tied so ‘twas possible he thought her dead when he piled her into cart that was not fit for a road. But to what purpose? And why move her corpse?

Slowly, her heart beating wildly in her chest, Marianne took the blanket in her fingers and lowered it from her face.

Cold, fresh air assaulted her. Robert’s back was to her, and he appeared much too at ease for a man who attempted to kill the lady of his castle. He was humming softly to himself as he kept his eyes alert and ahead.

She looked up. The sky was dark, darker than it had been when she went to the stables. No stars. Naught but blackness in the sky, which meant it had not cleared.

Marianne said earlier that they would likely have snow, now she sent another silent prayer that they would not. If she traveled a long distance the snow could cover the horse and cart tracks.

Someone did answer her prayer. But it was not God and was no friend of Marianne’s.

A single fat snowflake descended from the sky. It landed on her nose in mockery before melting and dripping down her cheek.

An uncountable number followed, filling the air with a soft blinding white.

She looked at Robert again. He was still unaware of her. She turned her head about to see around her and found she did not recognize her whereabouts.

Surely William would attempt to bring her back. Another shock of dread and fear filled her.

What if he was unaware she was outside of the castle walls? He could still be searching for her within them, not knowing she was gone until ‘twas too late.

And what of James and Olma? How did Robert manage to get her by them?

Marianne inched herself towards the back of the cart, the horse blanket slid away from her body. She kept her eyes on Robert and her breathing small should he hear it. Her blood quickened as she came closer to the ledge.

The cart bobbed at a decent pace, and she was low enough to the ground already that she could put her foot down. But if she stumbled and he heard, she did not know what he would do.

She did not stumble, she barely made a noise when she landed in the cold mud.

He whipped his head around and saw her anyway. Marianne gasped and ran.

“Milady!” Robert stopped the cart and ran after her.

Marianne’s feet caught in her gown and in the mud, tripping her again and again. She stood to run again, desperate and panicking as his footsteps rang closer.

His fingers caught her hair, gripping tight enough to cause pain.

Marianne screamed as her head was yanked back. Robert’s arms wrapped around her torso, trapping her arms and lifting her feet completely off of the ground.

She continued to shriek, praying to be heard by someone.

Robert slapped his hand over her mouth. She felt the calloused hand missing two fingers against her lips. That alone silenced her.

He growled in her ear, shaking her once. “Milady, calm yerself and think of where we are. I have been traveling for many an hour while ye slept. My little cart would not call the attention of thieves, but a screaming woman in fine garments will.”

Marianne tensed and ceased to struggle. William’s anger with her when she rode so near the forest without protection came to mind.

She was on a deserted road in the dark. Should they be attacked, no one could save them.

Robert took her silence as surrender and put her back on her feet. He kept his hands firmly on her arms when he brought her back, though he did not release her until reaching the cart.

He threw her down on the old wood. Marianne saved herself from having the wind knocked out of her by throwing her hands out when she landed.

He stood over her and reached above her head. He pulled out a long stretch of thin rope from the space where he once sat. “Few men know of this road, milady. The ones that do are not to be trifled with. I suggest you keep your voice low lest we are heard.”

Marianne scrambled away from him, eyeing the road at all angles in search of any murderers that might happen to be lurking nearby.

Robert reached out and captured her wrists in both his hands. Marianne struggled, anger taking hold that he could handle her in this manner, but his strength surpassed hers.

“Cease your struggles.” He hissed, slamming her wrists against the wooden boards.

Marianne yelped but he paid no mind as he looped the rope around her hands and tied them in a complicated knot to the cart.

He took the horse blanket, shook it, and gently covered her shoulders with it.

Her mouth dropped. “You are certainly attentive considering your treatment of me earlier.”

He grinned and took his seat at the head of the cart, urging the horse forward.

Marianne bristled at being ignored. “William will find you, and when he does you will lose more than two fingers this time.”

He looked back at her, smirking, the horse still moving ahead. “Told ye that story, did he?”

Since William was not there to be insulted for his lack of sympathy, she was insulted for him. “Aye, he did, you horrible creature!”

She wanted to throw the blanket off her shoulders. Let him see that she did not need his kindness, but the sharp cold had her holding it close. She hated him all the more for it.

Robert chuckled again, whipping the horse to quicken its step. “He will not catch me until ‘tis too late. You sent Archer on his way, something I had not planned. That sickly squire is dead, he cannot say ‘twas I who attacked. And Lord Gray will search the entire castle for ye before thinking to search outside.”

Marianne tensed. He watched outside the stables while she sent Archer to his wife and child. Marianne remembered the prickle of spider legs against the back of her neck, following her for days. “‘Twas you all along watching me.”

He nodded. “Aye.”

“Why do such a thing? What harm have I or William ever caused you?”

Robert did not laugh this time, his jaw tightened. “If you bare Lord Gray a son, he will have no more use for Blaise.”

“Blaise?” Marianne could not help her genuine confusion. “You speak as though William keeps Blaise for the amusement of it. Blaise is his son.”

Robert whipped around to glare. “Nay, milady, Blaise is my son. And when Lord Gray has no more use for him he’ll be sent off, and who will care for me?”

“Care for you?” Now Marianne felt offended for Blaise and fearful for herself. For the first time she was glad she kept her possible pregnancy to herself.

Had it been announced she would surely be dead right now. “You are not doing this for Blaise, you are doing it for yourself. What can you hope to accomplish? If you wished to kill me you should have done it. Now you will be caught and William will see to it that you can never care even for yourself.”

“You are mistaken, milady. Despite your opinions of the lowly servants, I am incapable of truly harming an innocent creature,”

Marianne felt the red sore on her neck twitch and recalled how he threw her so carelessly into the cart. What was his idea of harming a creature?

Robert continued speaking, unaware of her thoughts. “If you stay, Lord Gray would soon have his heir and I will be doomed to sweeping stables until the day I die. Even with this task I am still taking a great risk, yet ‘twas the only option available to me.”

Marianne could hardly mask her disgust. “You cared nothing for Blaise, you used him on the belief that he would give you a better life on William’s death.”

Robert shrugged his shoulders and turned to watch the road again. “‘Tis the boy’s own fault. He is a man who has been knighted already. He should have known better.”

“And what are your plans when Blaise marries and produces an heir? You stopped him from wedding me, but you cannot stop him from wedding another.”

He laughed as though she had spoken some fantastic tale. “Milady, I urged Blaise to wed ye. Should he produce an heir before William, that softhearted fool would never disinherit them, and I will be free to live comfortably upon his death. ‘Twas no one’s idea but his own not to wed ye. And stubborn fool that he was, I could not convince him that ye were a perfect match. He refused to listen to the advice of the man who grooms his horses.” The last of his sentence came in a twisted grumble.

He faced her again, a hint of a smile. “If it pleases ye, milady, his harsh words were written to ye because of his anger with me.”

It did not please her at all. “And where do we go now? You claimed you cannot kill me.” Marianne reminded him, clinging to the fact hopefully.

She could see the corner of his mouth lift. “I am not surprised ye do not recognize this road, milady, ‘tis the road I lived on while exiled from Graystone. Ye would have never ridden on it. But ‘tis also a shortcut to your old home.”

Marianne’s eyes widened. “Home?”

“Aye, I’m taking ye to see Sir Ferdinand.” He turned to look at her again. “The task yer own father was sent to accomplish before he took the coward’s way out and fled.”

Chapter Fourteen

William led the search for Marianne when James was dragged into the great hall, bleeding from the head and unconscious, but alive.

The search lasted barely an hour before the boy awoke, sent a servant girl to fetch his lord, and told them the identity of his attacker.

William swam in rage. “Where is Robert! I want him found now!”

Archer, who had aided in the search, looked crestfallen. “Her ladyship told me to go to Molly, said she would stay until Robert returned.” He shook his head, clutching his hair. “I should not ‘ave left. Should not ‘ave left.”

Letting the man feel his guilt was punishment enough. “‘Tis of no consequence now.” William said.

One of his men at arms called to him. “Milord, I was stationed atop the outer gate earlier. Robert left here with a horse and cart.”

William whirled on the man. Rage renewed. “You allowed him to pass?”

The older man reddened under his graying beard. “The sun had not completely set. I saw no reason not to. The man said he was off to ‘is brother’s farm to bring more grain for the horses.”

William could barely contain himself. “Robert has no brother!”

Hugh put a hand on his shoulder. The small act reminded him that he was lord of this castle and as such, his men turned to him for their guidance. Their faults, intentional or naught, where his own, and should Marianne be frightened, or in pain, ‘twas his own damn fault.

William took a breath, forcing calm into him. “What was in the cart? Did ye see anything?”

The man’s eyes were wild as he struggled to think. “‘Twas darkening outside, I only saw ‘im. I saw nothing in the cart and paid it no mind.”

“Nothing?” William tried desperately to ignore his pounding heart.

Hugh scratched his chin. “So for all we know, he has killed her already and hidden her before making off.”

“She is not dead!” William refused to believe that she could be laying someplace cold, dying and waiting for him to come to her, or already dead.

He grabbed the man’s chain mail and tunic in his fists, pulling until they were nose to nose. “There must be something else! Something you missed!”

Hugh did not stop him while he handled the older knight, but Bryce did speak up.

“Yer quite sure there was naught in the cart. No jugs, sacs, blankets—”

“Now—now that you mention it, sir,” the knight said. “I believe there was a horse blanket.”

William nearly laughed. “A horse blanket?”

The man did not hear William’s sarcasm. “Aye, ‘twas spread out inside the cart. I thought I saw shadows in it but told myself ‘twas only the gloom caused by rumples in the blanket and nightfall.”

William released him, calmer solutions taking shape. “Were they long shadows, long enough to be the height of a woman?”

He shook his head. “Nay, ‘twas why I paid them no mind.”

William would not give up. “He could have put her under the blanket, counting on the night to further disguise her as it did. She could have been folded closely into herself, unconscious or…”

“Dead,” Said Bryce.

William ignored him but turned to his friends. “He has no family, and it would not be below Ferdinand to have hired Robert to take her. She still lives.”

Nicholas, always optimistic, was the first to mention the flaw. “How would Ferdinand have contacted him? Someone would have noticed messengers coming from Ferdinand’s castle.”

“And even Robert must know that it would take days to get there. He would be surely be caught. Why the risk?” Asked Hugh.

William shook his head, seeing what they did not. “Ferdinand is staying at Marianne’s old home. ‘Tis just under a day’s ride from here. And if Robert thought he had killed James he would have known I would have searched the entire castle for her before moving elsewhere. That would give him more than enough time to reach his destination and collect his reward.”

Even as he babbled his beliefs, he was moving around his men, towards the stables where Benedict awaited. He would not waste time having new shoes put on the horse for the ride, and William called orders to have every man suited up.

“We have already wasted hours! We must be off immediately.” He did not need to tell Archer to have his horse ready as the man already ran ahead to see it done.

“I will go with you.” Hugh said, catching up and striding alongside him. Nicholas and Bryce caught up as well. Shockingly, even Blaise.

“If ye say she lives, then we will fight with ye until we see otherwise,” said Bryce.

“She lives.” ‘Twas Blaise who spoke, a grudging respect in his voice. “My hot-headed step-mother would never allow herself to be killed by a serf.”

William allowed himself a moment to be warmed by their words before returning to the task at hand.

Then he realized it had been years since he’d fought a battle, and not all of his weapons would be in good condition.

“I want every spare man and squire armed and on a horse. I doubt there will be enough weapons so the rusted ones from the armory will have to be used as well.”

“There are no rusted weapons.” Blaise said.

William stopped to look at him. “What happened to them?”

“The armory was one of the places Marianne visited while on her mission to better your castle. She made certain the men had no sleep until they sanded every last blade clean of rust.”

Love swelling in his chest, William set off for his wife.

***

William and every man available to him shot out of the stables. They rode hard until needing to slow their pace for the sake of the horses.

Hours passed, the snow fell in heavy clumps and covered the frozen earth. It prevented any chance of searching for tracks to confirm if Robert was even going where William thought he was.

“Milord,” Said Hugh. “I do not think they came this way.”

“Even before the snow there were no cart trails or horse tracks.” Blaise said unhelpfully, still gazing down at the ground as though searching for tracks through the white.

William continued to ride, his pace at an even trot so Benedict might catch his breath for the next burst of speed. He inwardly promised the horse plenty of rest, water, oats, and even a mare as long as he brought him to where William needed to go.

William had to agree with them, but could not bring himself to believe that Robert was not taking Marianne to Ferdinand. “Aye, Robert must have found another way to Ferdinand’s manor. He could not take the cart off the road and through the woods, nor would he abandon it. There must have been another way.”

“A shorter path?” Nicholas asked.

William nodded. “Which means there is even less time than we all thought.”

With that he kicked Benedict into speed again.

***

When Marianne gazed upon the lonely walls of her home for the first time in two months, she did not feel as delighted to see it as she once thought she would.

The heavy snowfall and grey sky aged the house, made it tired and unfamiliar, but only because she knew that another man owned it.

Robert drove the cart to the stables. No one familiar to Marianne came into view, and even though she made no effort to hide her tied hands, no one came to her aid.

When inside, she immediately noted the change in the smell. What had once been familiar to her, a constant reminder of her brother’s love when her father was too caught up in his games, now smelled of Ferdinand’s cruelty.

The walls were bare and stripped of everything of value her father spared when he paid her dowry, giving off the appearance of emptiness. Marianne could not help but think that the lack of objects suited Ferdinand’s hollow-hearted nature.

This was no longer the place she had played in as a child, nor was it where she wished to be. She wished to be in her real home with William. Even a shouting match with Blaise would be preferable to this.

When they reached the house, a servant Marianne did not recognize was sent to fetch Ferdinand. Like the men and women working outside, the servants inside seemed not to notice or care that her hands were bound in front of her, or that Robert continued to push her along.

Despite his eagerness to be rid of her, he made what could be a genuine effort to soothe her. “I would not fret, milady. Sir Ferdinand is old and will pass into the next world soon, until then, being his mistress will not be such a horrible thing.”

William’s words of Ferdinand’s liking for sexual torture came back to haunt her. Even if they had not, she knew Robert’s attempt would have been wasted on her.

She was no one’s mistress.

“Fool!”

Marianne and Robert shot their heads up to the source of the hateful voice. Ferdinand stood at the peek of the stairs, his gnarled hands clenching the rail and staring down with stunned fury directed at Marianne.

“What is she doing here? Why are her hands tied?”

Marianne relished his confusion. He could punish Robert and send her on her way and she would never have to think of this horrible experience again.

He descended the stairs at a speed she would not have thought possible of him. When he reached the bottom, he came towards them both and glared up at Marianne before turning his monstrous stare to Robert. Though Robert was taller, sir Ferdinand’s face and horrid stare prompted Robert to look at anything but the man in front of him.

Robert opened his mouth, stunned by his welcome. “I…I,” He cleared his throat and gathered his courage. “I have brought Marianne Holton here for your pleasure, milord.”

Ferdinand barked a laugh. “Lord? You must have hopes that your flattery will save you. What makes you presume I want her?”

Robert’s grip on her arm tightened, and Marianne felt his pulse quicken in his grip. “I overheard sir Holton mumbling to himself of the reward you offered him should he bring her here. Since he has failed I have taken his place and wish to collect what he could not.”

Ferdinand’s back stiffened, and he eyed Marianne with cold interest. There was a promise in his eyes, a promise to himself. Whatever it may be could not be good, for it brought chills to her flesh, and she tried to move away. Robert halted her with a jerk on her arm.

“I see,” said Ferdinand.

Robert sputtered. “Lord Gray does not know I have taken her, not so soon, and when he discovers what I have done I will be away with the reward you will pay. He will never know she is here.”

Robert did not see the men who surrounded them while he tried to sell her. Marianne did. Ferdinand signaled one of them with a small movement of his head.

Marianne felt a splash of warm blood spread across the back of her neck.

She shrieked and stumbled away, slapping the wetness away. But now she had it soaking her hands, which was far worse.

She spun to look at Robert, who held the spurting wound in his throat. The man holding the dagger used Robert’s tunic to clean the blood from the blade before Robert fell to the floor.

Marianne’s face ran cold at the sight. She had never seen a man killed before, and the sight would forever haunt her nightmares.

She looked down at her bound hands, covered in his drying blood, and she felt as dizzy as she had been when he strangled her. Her knees wobbled.

Ferdinand sneered at the body. “Clear that away!”

He gestured for his men to step back, Marianne was pulled along with them. Several more servants she did not recognize scurried forth and in clean motions wrapped Robert’s body and spilling blood in old blankets while the others scrubbed and washed the floor.

They carried him out, and the women cleaning the floor left with them. All that remained was the wet, circular spot which would soon dry. ‘Twould be as though a man had not been killed at all. The only proof being the blood still cooling on Marianne.

Ferdinand turned his eyes towards her, but they were no longer hard and sneering. Now they were cold and dissecting. That alone made her squirm.

Marianne swallowed and, refusing to show him weakness, yanked herself free of the man who held her upright. She held her bloody hands still, now knowing that the cruel scent she picked up when she came into the house was in fact death. “Ye will send me home now?”

He shook his head. “I think not, Milady.”

Panic ripped through her. “But ye have killed my captor! There is no reason to keep me now that you have set me free!”

He waved a boney finger at her. “Ah, but you have heard him claim that I sent your father to Graystone to retrieve you. I cannot simply send you on your way knowing that.”

Marianne felt more hands grabbing her arms, pulling her away. “William will come for me! He will see to it that you pay for this you filthy pig!”

Ferdinand did not lift an eye at her insult, he touched her cheek with leathery fingers and purred. “Presuming he knows you are here, milady.” He looked at the men holding her. “Take her to my chamber, I shall be there shortly.”

Marianne fought and kicked the men grabbing her. She shrieked and a large hand held her mouth shut. She bit the hand hard enough to draw blood, but they still refused to release her.

Ferdinand’s men dragged her into a room and with a brutal shove threw her to the floor. She struggled to her feet and tried to follow them but they slammed the door of Ferdinand’s bedchamber in her face, locking it behind them.

***

She waited, twisting her hands in an effort to loosen the ropes, and then tried to wash away the blood which itched her skin in Ferdinand’s old basin. Some rinsed away, most did not. With her hands tied, they were nearly useless, and she could not scrub it all away.

She checked the closed shudders but they would not open.

Marianne circled the room, searching in the large chest in the chamber and under the bed, but found only strange leather straps and clips of a kind she had never seen before. They looked like something with which a man might use to tie a horse. A very small horse.

A shiver twisted through her fingers and up her back, and she had to drop the offending objects.

A commotion outside the chamber had her whirling towards the door, waiting with a beating heart for her new captor.

The door opened, only enough for her father to come inside.

He greeted her with a smile and a finger to his lips. “I said I would only be a few moments.”

Anger coursed through her, but she did not get the chance to demand an explanation. He grabbed her by the arms and silenced her with the sharpest look she had ever seen on his face.

His fingers travelled to her bindings. While he untied her wrists she puzzled over his old and worn clothes. Stains and holes littered his tunic, his hands were filthy and calloused. Not even her lowliest servants had ever been forced to wear such rags.

Her anger melted away as shock took over. “Father, what happened to you?”

“I should be asking that of you.” He held her bloody hands tenderly and touched her swelling neck with a gentle finger.

“‘Tis not my blood. Where are your garments?”

“There is no time, come with me.”

He pulled her to the tall fireplace where the fire burned low from lack of attention. Her heart and lungs nearly burst when he stepped inside and disappeared around the corner.

The sound of stones scraping over each other had her stepping closer. “Father?”

He peaked his head out and held his hand for her. “Watch your gown.”

She was careful of the fire she stepped around. To her shock inside the fire pit was a small doorway in the stone slab!

“What is this?”

“My father had this built to protect himself should he be attacked. It leads outside. Ferdinand does not know of it.”

Marianne followed him through, trusting even when he closed the stone door behind them and their light was completely shut out.

***

Ferdinand went to the solar that was now his to prepare. There were special items he hid there for his use whenever he was fortunate enough to have a lady in his bed.

He hid them in the solar, in chests along the halls of the house, and there were even a few items in the kitchen, because he did not believe in restricting his activities to his bedchamber. He’d tried that once, and the games quickly became dull.

This way, he would always be prepared, and though he’d not lived in Holton’s house for very long, he’d still planned ahead. Marianne was in his chamber, for now. He’d take her in here later. He’d have her all over this house, and then do the same at his castle.

Despite the foolishness of the servant for bringing the girl to him, Ferdinand was quite pleased with the turn of events. He had grown far too used to the idea of simply giving up on her when Holton returned to him empty handed but for the few useless trinkets he’d stolen from Graystone.

Just the memory of that insolence was enough to make him clench his aging fist. Yet, despite his anger, he allowed the man to live, and relished seeing him toil as a servant in his own home.

It was beautiful because Holton had insisted on it, just for the purpose of seeing the graves of his sons. A small pleasure that would have been out of his reach had Ferdinand decided to throw him from the property.

Ferdinand unclenched his hands and stared at them. Thick veins protruding from thin hands with bulging knuckles.

There was a time when he would never have had to resort to such measures to snare a mistress for himself. They would have flocked to him, fought for him, and come to his bed willingly and wept when he finally threw them away. And he enjoyed sending them away when he finished with them.

But as he aged, the numbers of his women dwindled until ‘twas he seeking out the beautiful maidens, seeking them out until they finally would not have him.

Marianne’s attempt to free herself of her marriage to him had been one insult too many, and tonight he would bed her and she would know what it meant to insult Bartholomew Ferdinand.

The sound of thundering hooves distracted him from his thoughts, and he went to the window.

His eyes widened at the sight of William Gray dismounting from his horse, along with what could easily pass for a small army.

Ferdinand flew from the solar towards his bedchamber, calling out orders.

That fool! He was glad he’d killed that idiot because William did know what the servant had done and he came for his wife! Ferdinand needed to move her! Hide her! If she stayed where she was he would be killed!

He came upon the doors to his temporary chamber, satisfied to find both men he sent with her still guarding the doors.

“You,” He called, they both stood straighter. “Bring her to the kitchens, tie her feet, her mouth, and blindfold her eyes if need be when you hide her in the pit. Lord Gray cannot know she is here.”

The pit was a tool that was sure to fit Marianne nicely. A small hole in the ground with a trap door used for keeping food cool in the warmer seasons. The risk of Gray finding her remained, but ‘twas the best spot for the moment.

The guards opened the doors for him to enter his chamber, prepared to carry out his orders. But when Ferdinand stepped inside, he stopped dead. No woman stood in this room, no one at all, and the ropes that had tied her wrists together lay uselessly on the floor.

***

Ferdinand made another show of inching down the stairs, much to William’s irritation, his hand held against his lower back as he came to greet the army at his door.

“Milord,” He said, nodding his head slightly. “To what do I owe the unexpected honor?”

William did not pretend to believe the lie. “Where is Marianne?”

Ferdinand tilted his head. “I would assume she would be safe at your keep.”

William narrowed his eyes. He knew she was here, there would be no other safe place for Robert to bring her. Bryce spotted cart tracks as they came upon the house. They could belong to none other than the cart Robert had stolen.

Bryce whispered to him. “Milord, the men,”

William looked around. Bryce was not referring to their own men, but to Ferdinand’s.

Many stepped forward, standing around open doorways or atop the stairs, their hands on their weapons, all staring down mistrustfully.

“We outnumber them,” William said, returning his attention to Ferdinand, who stood much straighter now.

William drew his sword. So did all the men under Ferdinand’s employment. The slide of their blades echoing in the spacious room.

William’s men inside the house did the same, and he heard the draw of their weapons as well.

“I’ll not ask you again!” He could hardly contain his anger, though he knew there would be no honor in killing an old man.

Ferdinand raised his disfigured hands and signaled for his men to put away their weapons. “As I have said, milord, your wife is not here. You are, of course, welcome to search the house if it would please you.”

“Aye,” William sheathed his weapon. “It would.”

***

Marianne’s father struggled with the stone above their heads until he managed to slide it aside. Cold air assaulted Marianne’s face and the falling snow disoriented her. ‘Twas falling thicker now than before.

Holton helped her out of the hole she was in. After seeing the headstones, Marianne recognized herself to be in the family graveyard.

She stared at the stone belonging to the hole they had climbed out from. ‘Twas the old stone with the faded letters. Whenever she had asked of it her father never gave a proper answer of which relative it was. Now she knew why.

Her eyes sought out the stones of her brothers, and she sighed when she found them unharmed. Even the stone of Justin, who had died before she was born, was untouched.

“I thought he would have destroyed them.”

Holton struggled to return the stone to its place, also sparing them a glace before taking her hand. “I have seen to it that he has not.”

Marianne jerked her hand away. Now that they were safe she felt Robert’s betraying words coming back to her. “Is this why you came to Graystone? Hoping that selling me would spare their graves?”

He gave her a pleading look. “I thought I was able to do it, but betraying you in life would have been no better than betraying them in death. I could not do what Ferdinand asked of me, so I took what I could and sold myself to him.”

Marianne touched Reggie’s stone, brushing the snow from it as if dusting a precious heirloom. Dead for nearly eight years but it seemed only yesterday he’d fallen from his horse. The pain of losing her brothers erased her anger with her father.

“You could not save them in life, so you tried in death.”

She looked at him, at the filthy clothing he wore, recognized what he had risked to save her from Ferdinand’s chamber, and she forgave him.

She hugged him. Holton tensed as her arms wrapped around his body before putting his arms around her.

For the first time in years, Marianne felt his love.

He lifted her face. “We will have to be quick now if we are to get you back to Graystone before Ferdinand finds that you are missing.”

Marianne opened her mouth to agree whole heartedly when she heard something unfamiliar. She moved away from Holton and began climbing the small hill that shielded her and her father from the view from the house.

“Marianne! Stop!” Her father hissed, but she paid him no mind as she peeked over the hilltop and gasped at the sight.

Knights, men-at-arms, and squires, hundreds of them, stood patiently waiting outside the former Holton manor.

Marianne’s heart beat faster. Those men were not there when she arrived.

Happiness consumed her. “William came for me.”

“What? I heard that servant speaking to Ferdinand. He said Lord Gray would not think to come here for a while yet.”

Marianne shook her head. She didn’t know how he had known to come so quickly. Robert had ridden the cart at a leisurely pace through his hidden path. William must have run the horses nearly to death to catch up with her the long way.

Then she spotted him. Through the fog of falling snow, James sat with a stiff back on his horse, a wrap around his head and a surly look on his red face. Robert hadn’t killed him after all.

“We have to go down there!”

Holton grabbed her arm to stop her, but she pulled and dragged him along.

“Are ye certain those men are here for ye?” Holton asked, still resisting but moving along with her.

“Aye, yes, of course! ‘Tis James, and there is Blaise right there!” She never thought she would be so happy so see him.

Holton, satisfied, ran with her as Marianne clasped his hand in her own.

Chapter Fifteen

William took great pleasure storming into the bedchambers Ferdinand had gained through his questionable means, and searching under every bed, tossing chairs and ordering servants out of his way.

‘Twas not a difficult task as there was very little in any of the chambers. Indeed, it seemed most of the furnishings had been sold. As there was hardly any place to hide a woman, William abandoned those chambers and moved on.

He marched into the solar and opened the large trunk there, his blood cold with the fear that she could be stuffed inside. She was not.

He felt Ferdinand’s eyes on him, shrewdly watching with great dislike as William searched through the compartments in the writing table.

His hands abruptly ceased their search. William pulled out a smooth wooden sculpture with a sharp point at the tip, at the sight of it, disgust shivered through him. Despite the pointed tip, he knew it was meant to resemble a man’s cock.

He’d never seen anything like it in his life.

The two men with him eyed the thing with horrified fascination.

“I doubt very much that she is in there, milord.” William lifted his eyes at Ferdinand’s seething.

“Aye,” William took the wooden object and threw it into the fire as he left the solar. It would not stop Ferdinand from making another one, but William was satisfied with the knowledge that the horrible thing would never be used to harm another woman again.

While he drew pleasure by going through Ferdinand’s things, ‘twas soon lost on him when it became obvious that Marianne indeed was not there.

Fear wrapped around him like a snake.

Bryce and Nicholas returned from searching the kitchens and servants quarters while Hugh and the knight with him came from the stables. All found nothing.

“Shall we search the woods surrounding the house?” Hugh asked.

William nodded, banishing the snake. He would not give up. “Aye.”

Ferdinand followed them to the door. “My apologies that your lady is missing, milord, I can only wish there was something I might do to assist your search.”

William heard the false sympathy in his voice. It enraged him.

Without thinking he spun around and grabbed the man’s neck, shoving him to the wall.

Swords were drawn by William’s and Ferdinand’s men. They touched the flesh of his neck but William paid them no mind.

“I know you have her, and when I find her, for your sake, she’d best be unharmed.” William said, ignoring Hugh and Nicholas’s hands on his shoulders. They might be fooled into believing Ferdinand’s performance of frailty but he was not.

Ferdinand looked him in the eye and wheezed. “I swear on my honor, I have not had her brought here.”

Bryce’s gruff voice snapped him from his murderous thoughts. “Milord, we will search the forest then return here a second time. There is naught we can do now.”

Reluctantly, William released the aging man. Ferdinand coughed, a wasted hand clasping his chest for breath.

With no word of apology, William turned to the doors.

Marianne ran down the hill in the distance, her hand clasped in her father’s.

His eyes met hers. She dropped Holton’s hand and ran faster than a doe. She called his name. Her voice held only terror.

“William!”

Old, nearly forgotten instinct gripped him. William ducked and rolled, narrowly escaping Ferdinand’s slashing blade. William jumped to his feet and drew his sword, but Bryce had already grabbed Ferdinand’s arms. The older man shrieked and dropped the dagger under Bryce’s falcon grip.

Another man came at him and William was ready. He blocked the sword coming down on him with a clang from his own blade and kicked the man’s knee, listening to his screech as it shattered backwards. He too fell, clutching his twisted leg while rolling, weeping, and sobbing.

James jumped from his horse. He rushed and stole the man’s sword while one of William’s knights held him down with no struggle.

‘Twas all the incentive William’s men needed before charging into the house with their weapons drawn.

Vastly outnumbered, Ferdinand’s men dropped their weapons and surrendered on their knees.

“Filthy cowards!” Ferdinand screamed. “Pick up your weapons! Defend me!”

“You are the coward here!” William seethed. “Bringing pain to helpless women while hiding behind your lies and men.”

“The way you hid in your castle all these years, milord?”

William wanted to kick Ferdinand’s teeth in for the comment. The man made him sick, but Marianne called his name again and his attention went to his wife.

***

Marianne had not a rational thought in her mind when she leaped into William’s arms. He grabbed the back of her head and crushed her lips to his.

She quickly pulled away from him, struggling to be set back on the ground. “Let me see you! If he cut you—!”

He took her searching hands, laughter in his eyes. “I am well,” Then he found the dried blood on her swollen neck, and they darkened. “Who did this?”

Marianne touched his fingers that stroked her bruise. “Robert, when he took me from the stables.”

“I will kill him!”

“He is already dead, and your grip on my arms is becoming painful.” She had a smile on her face when she told him, so that he would know he was not truly hurting her.

Even still, William’s eyes widened as he loosened his hands. “He is dead…Ferdinand?”

Marianne nodded. “Aye. He killed Robert so that he would not have to pay the reward for bringing me here. I know not of what he did with the body. ‘Tis his blood you see on my neck.”

Blaise stood behind William, close enough to have heard her declaration. He did not appear as shaken by her disclosure as she had expected of him. His eyes were hard and uncaring at the news, and Marianne knew she need not pity him.

Whatever hold Robert had on Blaise ended while Marianne was gone. Blaise did not regret Robert’s death.

William briefly glanced at Ferdinand before giving her his attention again, smoothing her frayed hair. “I suppose the man has done me a service after all. Has Ferdinand harmed you?”

Marianne leaned into his touch, and when she shook her head he asked quietly, “Did he touch you?”

Again, she shook her head, and William pulled her close to him, whispering words of thanks into her hair. His blood ran cold when he sighted Sir Holton standing only a few feet away.

He pulled Marianne behind him but did not lift his weapon to the man, likely since he appeared to be no threat. Holton had a sheepish look about his face and his garments were filthy and loose about his shoulders.

Marianne held William’s arm. “He rescued me from the house, right out from under Ferdinand’s nose.”

Ferdinand shrieked and struggled while Bryce held him with little effort. “I put two men at the door! How did you get out!”

Holton gave him a cold stare. “I sold you my house, not its secrets.”

“It shall be your house again,” said William, sheathing his sword as there no longer was a need for it. “I will see to it. The servants as well, though there is naught I can do about the ones Ferdinand sold.”

Holton’s eyes widened, his mouth falling at the gift. “Thank you, milord.”

William’s eyes hardened. “Should I discover you have been gambling again—”

“You shan’t hear it!” Holton said quickly, his hands quivering with his good news. His eyes found Marianne’s. “I have been troubled for many a year, and I am sorry that it has ever caused you any pain. I shall never touch the dice again, and this property will flourish.”

“‘Tis mine now! He has no right to it!”

William ignored Ferdinand and nodded to Holton, satisfied with their deal. Marianne glowed with the good news he was giving to her father.

She had not expected her husband to do this for her father, had not expected William to come for her so quickly, yet he did. He always surprised her.

Pleased with him and everything around her, Marianne tightened her grip on him before forcefully turning his head for a kiss.

***

Ferdinand did not struggle. The large man holding him would only tighten the grip on his shoulders if he did.

He would not have it. Ferdinand would not allow that red headed whore to leave him a ruined man while her husband executed him for a crime that idiot serf committed by bringing her to him.

She lavished her husband with her lips, unashamed of the spectacle she made of herself and her lord. Had she been wed to him there would have been none of that. She would have known her place.

Holton would not remove that hideous smile from his face while he openly made plans to buy back as many of the serfs and sheep as possible.

Ferdinand seethed. ‘Twas his property he spoke so casually of! Holton lost it to him because of his foolishness and his inability to control his daughter, who remained close to Lord Gray long after she finished her performance.

Had it not been for her, she would be his wife and he would not be in this position.

Ferdinand felt the large man’s brute fingers slack. He waited seconds more until Lord Gray was about to take the little whore away.

Ferdinand reached out. His fingers found a dagger at the large man’s belt and lifted it from its sheath. He ducked under the man’s giant hands before he could be grabbed again. Ferdinand ran for her.

***

William heard his name screamed again, and he turned to see Ferdinand flying towards Marianne with a crazed look in his eyes and a blade in his hand. William yanked Marianne behind him and pulled out his sword.

Blaise dashed forth and kicked Ferdinand’s feet out from under him. The man howled and fell on the dagger he’d intended for Marianne.

Marianne shrieked and spun away from the blood flying from Ferdinand’s neck. William held her tightly while she hid her face in his shoulder.

Ferdinand twitched once, twice, and went limp. His eyes remained wide open in eternal shock that he could accidentally kill himself.

William stared with his mouth hanging. That could have been Marianne bleeding to death just now.

He clutched her tighter and glared at Bryce. “I thought you had him!”

Bryce stared at him helplessly before mumbling. “I though’ I did too.”

Blaise stood above Ferdinand’s body. He gave it a small kick with his boot to confirm the death.

William reached out and grasped his son’s shoulder. Blaise looked up at the touch.

“Thank you,” William said.

Blaise stared him in the eye. “I will always defend my father. And my step-mother.”

William’s smile could not have been brighter. He clapped his son on the back when Blaise grinned back.

William looked down at Marianne as she hid her face, her hands over her eyes to ensure that she could not see another dead body.

He could hardly blame her. Two men in less than a day was much for any woman to see.

He raised his head to Holton. “I hope you have room for my men. I do not believe we will be at liberty to leave until the sky clears.”

Holton’s voice boomed with happiness. “Milord, there should be more than enough room as Ferdinand did not keep many servants. And you shall have my best bedchamber to rest yourselves. Stay as long as you will!”

William felt the tension in Marianne’s body relax itself away. He thought her trembling was due to the cold and wished to bring her near to a fire as quickly as possible, but he looked down, and there were tears in her eyes.

***

When inside and out of the cold, Marianne felt herself being handed over to James while William addressed the servants and men of the house. He ordered all the men and women to obey the new master. Any men-at-arms who did not wish to have a new master were to leave now that their old one was dead.

Each man looked towards the other and stayed where they were. No one would leave with the wind picking up and air thickening with snow.

No one seemed particularly displeased that Ferdinand was dead either. The men he had hired would not even defend him when attacked, which led Marianne to believe they were either poorly paid, poorly treated, or possibly both since the thought of Sir Ferdinand surrounding himself with cowards did not ring true to her.

Her mind was in a haze and she could barely give her attention to any one person before it was lost on something else.

William came to her again and she was reminded of her father’s promise of the best chamber. Ferdinand’s chamber, the one she had escaped from earlier.

All became clear and she stopped. “Nay, please, I cannot spend the night in there.”

It had seemed so horrible when she was locked inside, the scent of Ferdinand in the air, surrounding her, suffocating her. Not even William could drive that away.

Without speaking, William looked at her and understood. “Perhaps we could take the second best chamber for our use.”

Holton agreed whole heartedly and gleefully led them in another direction. Marianne knew where the good rooms were, but allowed herself to be led quietly since her father was far too pleased to be in control of himself and his home again.

The room certainly was large, but bare of most furnishings save for the bed, a worn stool and small table with an empty basin. The fire had been quickly lit by a maid and a pitcher of water brought in before Holton left them to themselves, promising a hot meal to be delivered promptly.

Marianne went to the pitcher and basin and washed the blood from her hands and neck, scrubbing furiously until satisfied she had no traces of dead men on her.

Her flesh heated when William slid his arms around her from behind and pulled her to his chest. She lifted her cold hands to hold his colder ones. “You smell like the snow outside.”

She felt him drop a kiss in her hair. “I was unaware snow had a scent.”

“Any other day you smell like the autumn leaves. Did you know that?”

She smiled. “Nay, I hope ‘tis a pleasant scent.”

He pushed her hair away from her neck and placed his lips there, his voice dropping. “I worried I would not be in time.”

The confession in her ear brought a shiver.

“Are ye cold?”

He made to move to the fireplace but she held tightly to him.

“Nay, ‘tis not that.”

He looked at her, waiting for an explanation.

How would she explain that his fear for her was a comfort? Perhaps he could not love her like he did Alice, but he cared enough for her to fear for her and send a small army of men to her rescue.

She looked into his eyes and spoke the truth. “I knew you would come for me. I had absolute faith in you.”

A laugh caught in his throat as he covered her mouth with his.

Marianne clutched his shoulders. His large fingers slid across her cheek and into her hair while the other slipped beneath the tight bodice of her gown and cupped her breast. He squeezed, and Marianne gasped sharply. He used the act to his advantage and slid his tongue into her mouth.

Abruptly she pulled away and began fumbling with his breastplate and then his under tunic while he struggled with the strings of her gown and bodice.

“I wish you could rip the retched thing off.” She complained.

“Aye, but ‘tis impossibly strong.”

Finally, he untied it and pulled it from her body. She was left standing in her chemise and Marianne took a breath and relished in the freedom.

She touched him. Stroked his face, his chest, kissed his lips while his hands remained on her breasts and pressing between her legs through the fabric of her chemise. His hands were everywhere yet they touched not enough of her.

She wished to touch more of him but what she was doing was not enough either and this slow building pace frustrated her. She wanted him inside of her, his bare chest on top of hers, heating her in a way the fire behind her never could while she wrapped her legs around his lower back.

She could stand his teasing caresses no longer. “Take me to bed, this instant.”

“Eager.” His pleased smirk spoke many promises to her. William bent at the knees, wrapped his arms under her bottom and lifted her in the air. He took two steps and dropped her on the bed before he settled between her legs.

She did not mind and sighed throatily as he lifted her chemise, adjusted his hose and slipped inside her without removing them or his boots.

Marianne wrapped her legs about his hips eagerly, like she had wanted. Her sighs turned into moans as he moved in a repetitive motion in and out of her, holding her tightly to him as he did and speeding his movements as she tightened her thighs around him.

He kissed her shoulder, her neck and her lips while she threaded her fingers into his hair, and she felt truly loved. She wished it would never end but the building sensation in her belly came too quickly and she threw her head back, closed her eyes, opened her mouth, and released the wail that had built itself within her, letting his silky voice take her the rest of the way.

He breathed hard against her shoulder and she smiled. Stroking his hair and kissing him again.

He tried to roll away from her but her legs held firm.

“Stay.”

She knew she could spend years admiring his lazy smile. “As you wish, my dear. But this position will not be comfortable for long.”

She barely heard his words. Her eyes were closing with sleep. “I doubt that very much.”

He chuckled, trailing his lips down her cheek, across her jaw, and resting on her lips as he slowly felt her legs release their grip on him with her oncoming rest.

When he pulled away to lie beside her, her eyes came open again.

“I’m cold.” She said.

He must have been as unwilling to move as she, so William pulled the half of the blanket they were not laying on and covered them with it. She snuggled into his heat and he wished they would never have to leave.

“William?”

He looked down, her voice thick and her eyes half open. He brushed the curls of red from her face. “Aye?”

“Ye should know, today, before something else happens.” She searched for his hand under the blankets and brought it to her belly, still bare as he had not lowered her chemise.

William’s voice became unexpectedly thick, Marianne could hear the wild thumping in his chest. “You are with child.”

She smiled and nodded, her eyes slipping shut. “Aye. ‘Tis yours.”

A bark of laughter erupted from his throat, and he kissed her again and again. “You need not tell me ‘tis mine for me to know it, you imp. I love you.”

She smiled dreamily at his words before her breathing lightened and she succumbed to sleep.

***

William could not sleep at all. He lay awake for hours holding his wife with visions of the coming child in his mind.

Chapter Sixteen

The snow ceased its assault on the land that night and was replaced with extreme cold. Holton, still prancing with happiness, insisted William and his entire party stay until the roads were safe for travel.

Marianne knew William would not speak with Holton regarding the theft of his property. She knew because he told her so. He also told her that ‘twas only because of the amount of food it took to feed the army he brought with him would compensate for his losses, though William did insist on taking back the stolen horses.

Though three days was hardly anything to worry over, long they became, and Marianne found herself suffering from the same illness that took hold of her when she arrived at Graystone for the first time.

Her body chilled, food did not taste as she knew it should, and only while lying in her husband’s arms could she sleep peacefully.

Even in sleep he held her near to him, and when the moonlight disappeared she allowed herself to rest her head on his naked chest and wish she were as at ease as he.

She dreamed that he loved her, told her so with his own words. Despite the number of times they made love and slept in each other’s arms in those three days, she had yet to have that dream again.

Relief came in the form of finally taking leave of Holton House and riding towards Graystone, watching its looming towers appear in the distance a second time had been wonderful and exhilarating compared to the first. With these emotions running rampant, Marianne could not deny that Graystone was her home.

Though, Marianne had trouble consenting to call it her true home as she was still not loved as she would like to be by the lord.

As promised Lord John and Lady Anne came to visit immediately after. Marianne was delighted to have a conversation partner whom she could speak with freely and who could gossip with her.

Marianne hoped Anne’s presence could take her thoughts away from the one last piece of unhappiness she still carried with her. And upon discovering that Marianne never had a nurse, Lady Anne took it upon herself to teach her the fine arts of embroidery, drawing, and music.

“I told you the day I first met you we would become friends.” Anne giggled over Marianne’s shoulders as she pointed out the flaw in her stitching.

Marianne grumbled and adjusted her shawl, wishing she had not seemed so eager to learn in the beginning as she now wished to send her needle to the devil. Lady Anne would accept nothing less than perfection and would allow Marianne no room to play. If there was an error in her stitching and Anne found it, she would have Marianne go back and do it again.

Lady Anne laughed and took the embroidery from her hands, setting it on the nearby table. “I see ‘tis not working. We shall try again on the morrow.”

Marianne scowled and flicked her crooked work. “You may try again. If my son is to have a blanket then I shall hire someone to make it for him as nothing fine will come from me.”

Anne sat next to her, paying no mind to Marianne’s insistence that she was carrying a boy when her body gave hardly a hint to her condition. “Oh, I shall have to convince John to let me visit every week if I am to be satisfied with your education until the child is born. I have never seen William so happy.”

“Aye,” Marianne had to agree. William looked at her differently since her confession of her condition, and when confirmed by a midwife his cheer doubled. Hers did not.

“What saddens you?”

Marianne blinked. She had not meant to show her worries on her face. “Hmm?”

Anne took her hand, another small thing Marianne had to get used to with the lady so near to her. Lady Anne insisted on holding her hand, hugging, and planting kisses upon her cheeks. Since Marianne only recently began to receive these things from her husband and had only once been hugged by her father in years, Marianne hardly knew what to do with it all.

Anne turned away, as though deciding not to say anything at all, but Marianne squeezed her hand. “Go on.”

Anne sighed. “My lady, I hope you will not be insulted with my blunt nature, but since coming here I have seen that you are not quite as happy as my cousin.”

Marianne paled. Anne clasped both her hands.

“Have I said something upsetting? Forgive me, you should rest.”

Marianne shook her head and gripped Anne’s hands tightly before she could rise to bustle about and fluff her pillows.

“Nay, I am well. Your question did startle me, however.”

Anne looked pained. “Forgive me, ‘twas not my concern.”

And it was not. Marianne knew this, but keeping the secret only caused her to suffer more as the days passed. William only stared at her with those adoring blue eyes because she was carrying his child, completely oblivious to the misery she suffered.

Even Blaise ceased his bantering and began treating her with respect, though whether ‘twas because he spent most of his time training with Bryce, or due to his happiness at still being William’s heir, Marianne did not know.

Regardless, having no one to speak to about her concerns had drained her.

Marianne straightened herself. “May I tell you something, and have your word that you will say nothing of it to William?”

Anne looked into her friend’s eyes. “Of course.”

With a deep breath Marianne told Anne of her forceful abduction and wedding to William, how he rescued Molly and Hawisa and how she had slowly fallen in love with her caring husband. Wishing to spare her father’s dignity, she left out the details of his theft, though she did divulge Robert’s abduction of her and his plan to sell her to sir Ferdinand.

Lady Anne’s mouth was agape when she finished. She sputtered, still clutching Marianne’s hand, only much tighter. “To think, you could have been killed by that awful man!”

“Aye,” Marianne nodded, the reminder of Robert’s gruesome murder bringing a shiver to her.

“I have heard rumors of how horrible he could have been, but never suspected him capable of such things.”

“Aye,” Marianne agreed again. How sheltered could Lady Anne be to not have believed Ferdinand to be capable of such evils? Granted, she had also been unaware of them until William told her, but she knew enough about Ferdinand to know she would rather stage a kidnapping than marry him.

Anne leaned closer, and Marianne could see her interest heightening with each question she eagerly asked. “And you are quite certain the grooms here are not dangerous?”

Marianne eagerly shook her head. “No, nay, Archer is the kindest of men, and he will see to it that the stables only have good men in them from now on.”

Though Lady Anne knew ‘twas not proper to be asking so many questions, she could hardly contain herself. “Is that what has your spirits so low? Those experiences would certainly ruin any of my happiness.”

Marianne shook her head. “‘Tis not that.”

Anne waited silently.

Marianne had to explain further, she could not bottle the rest in now that she was nearly finished with her tale. She wet her lips and trudged forward. “While I have been blessed to wed the most noble and generous of men, he still does not love me.”

***

“Of course I love her! What sort of question is this?” William was more shocked than angered, and John could only shrug his shoulders and turn to his wife helplessly.

Lady Anne blew air from her mouth and whispered into John’s ear again. Nicholas watched the spectacle eagerly, lifting his goblet to his lips and enjoying the entertainment.

William felt a pounding begin in his head with the odd behavior she insisted on carrying out. He sighed and rubbed his temple, working to contain his building apprehension. “Cousin you may speak with me without putting your poor husband through all of this.”

John listened to Anne’s whispers some more, and then sighed in a manner equal to William’s. “‘Twould seem she cannot. She gave Marianne her word not to speak of this to you.”

“She is speaking it to me now.”

“Nay, cousin. My husband is speaking of it to you. Marianne had me promise not to speak to you about her troubles, but she mentioned nothing of telling John.” Anne grinned proudly, and William knew she was congratulating herself for the wit of her scheme.

Nicholas chuckled and drained his drink. “Women enjoy devious play but I never would have suspected your innocent cousin.”

“Keep silent, Nicholas.” William could hardly believe it himself, and he rubbed his temples to will away the headache. “Pray, tell me why my wife believes I hold no love for her.”

Anne whispered into her husband’s ear again, and when John’s face colored William prayed she was not divulging anything inappropriate.

When she finished her whispering, John stared down at his wife curiously before facing William, a helpless air about him. “‘Twould seem the lady believes this is so because you have yet to tell her.”

Nicholas’s face dropped, he clutched his chest dramatically. “You have not told your wife of your love?”

“Yet to tell her? I have told her! I have told her with my actions when I rode after her when she was taken, and have said so with my words when—” He had to stop himself before he was the one to mention something inappropriate. “I have told her.” He grumbled, folding his arms.

Remembering Nicholas, he growled at him. “And just because you spout out love to every maiden who will have ye does not mean every man can say it so lightly!”

Anne brows came together thoughtfully. “‘Tis not what she has told me. She believes you have never mentioned this love for her. Are you quite sure you have told her?”

John took his wife’s hand and squeezed imploringly. “Do not pester him. Even if he does hold no love for her ‘twould be no business of yours.”

It bothered William because he did, and she should know that he did. She smiled at him when he told her before drifting off to sleep.

He stopped at the thought. That was right. He did tell her, and she did not say anything to him in return. Was feminine protocol not clear in allowing him the right to anger and not her? Surely even Nicholas would agree with him.

Lady Anne would not be silenced by her husband. “How many times have you told her?”

William blinked out of his thoughts. “I beg your pardon?”

Despite John’s shushing, Anne continued to speak. “How many times have you mentioned your love for her?”

Nicholas grinned, lazily trailing the rim of his glass. “Aye, friend, how many times?”

“Once is not enough?”

“Nay, of course not!” Anne glowered disapprovingly at him. William could see how mad she believed him to be with the way her face twisted in near disgust at his claim.

William looked at John, who had given up on trying to silence his wife and shook his head apologetically. “Women enjoy hearing these things over and over.”

William sputtered. “And do they always forget them if the words are not spoken enough?”

John shrugged dejectedly, gesturing to his wife. “‘Twould seem so, Aye.”

Nicholas nodded his head as well. “At least every day.”

William threw his hands up and swore a blue streak, circling his entire solar twice before remembering that his little cousin was still in the room. He looked at her and found her eyes open comically wide. John shook his head, muttering: “Should not have allowed myself to become involved.”

William decided that if he wanted to rage around like he was he had best do it to his wife and not in front of his friends and relatives. He left to find his red haired imp and do just that.

Anne and John followed quickly behind, fearful he would be rash with her, Nicholas did not.

Anne’s voice shrieked with panic behind him. “Please do not tell her I told! I gave my word and she would not forgive me!”

John’s pace equaled that of his wife but he remained behind William, his voice much calmer than Anne’s had been. “Do not be rough with her. You know how severely women can take matters of the heart.”

William stopped his hunt and turned to Anne, though there was no ice in his stare. “My lady you cannot for one moment believe that Marianne does not know what you have just done. She is the lady of this castle and you her guest. Being out of her company for so long there is only one place you would surely be.”

Anne’s face twisted in horror and she turned towards John. “She could not know!”

He pinched the bridge between his eyes and sighed for the tenth time since Anne dragged him into the Solar with her. William pitied him but knew well enough not to let it show.

“Your cousin is correct. Logic would state to anyone that you have run off only to shout whatever secrets you hold to anyone who will listen.”

“I did no shouting! And certainly not to anyone who will listen!”

William clasped her shoulders, the wild panic in her eyes proof that she had been punished enough for breaking her word. “Aye, and Marianne will know that you innocently made mention of this to your husband before he told me when I speak with her. She shall hold no grudge against you.”

The moisture in Anne’s eyes disappeared.

William did not release her shoulders. “But you must learn to hold your tongue when secrets pass your ears and not turn them into gossip.”

Panic twisted her face again.

William smiled and released her. “Now, where did you leave her?”

***

Marianne was leaving the stables, having completed her daily visit with Mare and Archer, an act she found much more pleasing and peaceful now that she no longer had to fear that Robert would be there. James was no longer trailing her like a lost dog since tonight he was spending the night in the chapel for his knighting ceremony the next morning.

After surviving his attack from Robert and telling his lord what happened, William decided that the event could not wait for spring. And when Lady Anne excused herself Marianne gave Olma leave to sit outside the chapel to pray for him.

Food was being prepared for the occasion and minstrels were hired. William made a special plan of presenting him with a horse since James’s father could not afford one.

‘Twas more proof of his large heart, and while preparing to disappoint herself with thoughts of how it was not large enough for her, she looked up and sighted William casually strolling towards her. He quickened to a trot when he spotted her.

She sighed. Her stomach had been doing clumsy flops when Lady Anne excused herself from her company. When she did not return fifteen minutes later Marianne knew what she had gone and done, and also knew that she should have known better than to trust a woman who loved to gossip.

‘Twas only a matter of time before her husband came to set her straight, to tell her to stop moping and accept what she could have rather than what she could not. Now was that time it seemed.

He came to her, his face betraying nothing of his emotions though his eyes did dart behind her to the stables. “If you continue to spend all of your time there you will smell like a horse.”

She stood straighter. ‘Twas not what she had expected him to say. “I thought I smelled like the autumn leaves.”

He shook his head, a grin touching his lips as he refused to answer her question. His next words were straight to the point. “I have heard some unsettling things just now,” He crossed his arms behind his back. “Perhaps we can put them to rest.”

Bitterness swelled inside of her, and she folded her arms and looked away. “From your dear cousin, no doubt.”

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.”

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 then. 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.

Her thumb and finger press just under and over his left eye, and he knew what she prepared to do before she explained it. "When you open your eye, I shall hold it open and pour the water in."

Blaise nodded and opened his eye right away. The pressure of Elizabeth's fingers kept it open when instinct forced him to try and lock it shut as cool water splashed inside and blurred his vision.

Blaise grit his teeth, counted, and could stand no more and forcefully turned his head away.

Elizabeth cursed above him as she stilled the bowl to stop the water flow. "Fool! I have not yet finished!"

"I have!" Blaise hissed back, wiping the water out of his face and keeping his other eye shut while he tried to force vision to come to the one that was open. His eye was clean, he could see perfectly through it without the pain of being stabbed with tiny mud rocks.

Instead of peering at his surroundings, his good eye focused on the woman sitting above him who dared insult him. Blaise's breath caught.

Only at the sight of her did he realize that 'twas no common peasant who rescued him. Her language, while occasionally foul, had no country accent. The fingers that tended to him were not rough with working hard labour. Though her ragged appearance and loose wet hair suggested that what he saw was a common serf, her treatment of him proved otherwise.

"Who are you?"

"I told you, I am Elizabeth Hollow. Ye are in my home."

Blaise looked beyond her, his one hand still pressing against his dirty eye.

What he thought was a chamber in a much larger dwelling was actually a hut that could hardly be considered a home. His bed of hay was at the far corner, in the center sat a small, dying fire that could in no way be responsible for his earlier discomfort.

His hand flew to the back of his head. He winced as the lightning-quick pain struck him. The burning returned.

“A gift from my attackers, no doubt,” he muttered.

The girl said nothing, likely not wishing to anger him with any misplaced comments on his loss, so he returned to inspecting her home.

There were shelves of meagre possessions, pots for cooking and, to his shock, what he was sure was a lady’s gown, folded and stuffed in one of the shelves.

He could hear the rain outside. It had been pouring during his attack, enough to keep him from seeing that there were men surrounding him before it was too late. ‘Twas now at a gentle shower. Though Elizabeth's roof still leaked and dripped in some places.

Elizabeth gripped his chin and forced him to face her again, the bowl of water still in hand. "That is enough of you gaping at my home." She forced his other eye open and poured the water quicker than she had the last time.

Blaise nearly turned away again but fisted his hands into the damp hay and grit his teeth.

"Be still." Elizabeth commanded.

"I am, you wench." Blaise hissed, allowing her to wash the remains of dirt from his eyes.

When the bowl was empty he brought his hand up to wipe away the remaining drops still on his face.

Elizabeth slapped his hand away. "Stop that. Ye're spreading dirt around on your face." She applied a rough bit of cloth to do the job for him, then took his hands and washed them with the damp rag as well.

He kept his eyes on her while she diligently cleaned the mud from his fingers. Her thin brows came together over the largest eyes he had ever seen as her hands gently wiped the filth from him.

His hands heated under her care, and his body tingled. He cleared his throat, reminding himself that she could likely be the enemy. "Thank you."

The movement of her hands against his halted. Her head did not lift but her eyes turned up to look at him beneath thick strands of her dark, wet hair that fell in her face. "I never would have thought that ye should thank anyone for anything, milord."

The muscles in Blaise's body tensed, any warmth he felt over her touch vanished as a chill raced through him. He took his hands from hers and stood up, ignoring his nudity.

Elizabeth scurried to her feet and backed away a step, her eyes wide on him.

"Milord, I—"

"How do ye know me?" He demanded, stepping towards her. She stepped back again. He didn't care. She hadn't outright spoken his name but she knew who he was, at least enough to know that he was a lord despite how she supposedly found him naked in the muck. "How do ye know me, woman?"

She blinked, regaining her composure, though her hands clenched together in fright in front of her. "Your hair."

His—? "What?"

She raised her finger and pointed. "Everyone knows that Lord Blaise Gray has that color hair. 'Tis the only reason I can think of as to why anyone would bother with robbing ye."

He sighed, relief pulsing through him at the obvious answer and hating how true her words rang to his ears. “Ah, I suppose that would have to be the truth.”

Blaise relaxed his body, he did not want to appear threatening to this woman who'd taken him in and, according to her, saved his life. Despite his calm stance, she remained tense and at a distance.

Ah, yes, he was naked and they were alone. Blaise sat back down in her bed of hay and pulled the filthy blanket over his lap, only then did Elizabeth breathe a sigh of relief. She still did not approach him.

"I apologize for my behavior. I had forgotten that I am so easily recognized by my despicable hair.”

Recognizable enough to be made into an easy target by thieves. He thought sourly.

Elizabeth nodded. “It is a despicable color.”

Blaise clenched his hands into her damp, filthy blanket. “Regardless, you have my word that while I am here, I mean you no ill will."

If she made another comment like that, however, he might just take back that promise.

"Do ye behave so rashly with every lady you meet?"

He raised a brow at her and smiled at the obvious jest. "Lady?"

She bristled as his eyes travelled up and down her ragged gown, covered in the same muck she'd washed from his face, hands, and eyes, fraying in all the places he could see, and thin enough for holes to penetrate. "Aye. Lady. My father was a wealthy knight, but my mother decided to raise me in poverty rather than have him know me."

“And, where is your mother now?”

Her eyes did not meet his. “She is dead.”

Blaise's thoughts went away with him again. He would allow himself to feel no pity while in this suspicious state. "I suppose you would prefer some sort of payment for your services then?"

She did not attempt to deny her intent, though there was no malice in her words. "'Tis the least you could do for a woman who saved your life, milord."

His suspicions that she may have had something to do with his situation raised up again. 'Twould not be the first time a member of the lower class had attempted to manipulate him to get what they sought.

Marianne Holton had attempted to kidnap him and force a wedding on him when he denied the proposed agreement of marriage. Instead, through sheer luck, she kidnapped and married his father by mistake, William Gray. Now they were known throughout the land as a couple completely in love and devoted to one another, with one child already and another on the way.

While alone with Elizabeth, nude and not a weapon on him, Blaise did not mention his theory lest she turn into a raving banshee and attack him with a log from the dwindling fire she sat beside. She stirred something that smelled heavenly in the dented pot with a wooden spoon.

"I was not far from Graystone when I was attacked," he said, ignoring the scent. "Why bring me here instead of to my home?"

She looked over her shoulder, the disbelief in her eyes suggesting she thought he might be the crazed one between the two of them. "Do ye take me for a lunatic? Why would I go to yer father's castle, dragging his naked son behind me and demanding entrance from the rain? They would have me locked away until you awoke, and then who would believe that I had nothing to do with your robbery—"

"When you asked for your payment?" He finished.

Elizabeth turned her head away, but Blaise glimpsed the rising color in her neck before she did. She poured a thick stew into a crooked bowl and handed it to him with a spoon.

She turned away from him immediately, not waiting to see if he would eat the stew while she stood to face the opposite wall with her arms crossed. "You are not obligated to give me anything, nor am I entitled to anything. I was merely hoping that someone in your position may be able to help me leave this." She waved her hand around, indicating the square hut where she lived.

Blaise thought about it. The scent of the stew called to his nose and his stomach twitched, but he put off eating from it. "You are correct, I do owe you nothing."

Her back cringed at his words.

He sighed. "Yet I am not of the sort to abandon someone who did not abandon me. When the rain stops I will take ye to Graystone and explain yer situation to my father."

Elizabeth spun to stare at him. Her eyes sparkled with tear drops and her jaw trembled at his offer.

Feeling generous, Blaise dug the wooden spoon into the bowl, lifted out a mouthful of the steaming brown stew and took a bite. His eyes slid shut, savouring the taste. "Perhaps since ye are skilled as a cook we can give ye a position."

Elizabeth's face fell. 'Twas obviously not what she had in mind. Blaise chuckled and took another spoonful into his mouth.

If this wench thought he would give her a house and finery before he knew the truth about his robbery, then she was as mad as they came.

***

Elizabeth clenched her teeth, seething as he enjoyed the stew she created with the last of the essentials in her home.

Still, she supposed she should feel grateful, but she suppressed her sigh of relief until later. Whether it had been accidental or not, intended or not, if he suspected that she had anything to do with his attack, he would kill her.

Chapter Two

The walk to Graystone castle took a few hours after the rain stopped. It seemed like days to Blaise, who had nothing to protect his feet against the mud and sharp rocks on the road.

The ragged blanket Elizabeth offered was all he had to spare his dignity. Indeed, the only other option was to wear her cloak, and from the way it draped heavily around her, filthy from overuse and mud, it would have not been any better.

His eyes scanned the trees, his fingers itching to wrap around the handle of a sword he no longer had. A sword he regretted losing above all else. "If we are to be ambushed I would have to defend ye with nothing but my fists."

"'Twas you who did not wish to wait for the roads to dry." Elizabeth replied in an equally sour tone, kicking muck off of her flimsy shoes. “My gown is already filthy, and now being ruined further as I trek in the mud next to you.”

Blaise shook his head. He eyed the gown she wore, which original color he still could not discern, with contempt. She managed to clean some of the muck off it before they started on their journey, but all it did was spread the dirt deeper into the cloth. “As though it makes a difference.” He mumbled.

She looked at him. “What did you say?”

"I spoke of nothing, and I wished for a quick departure because 'twould be best for a helpless woman and her naked companion to travel before the thieves who live in the woods decide the weather is fine enough for them to stalk their prey. They wish to sit in the bushes, not in the muck. Like us."

Elizabeth would not look at him. She adjusted the parcel in her arms and continued to walk, as though hoping he would not see the color climbing her neck. "I had not thought of that."

She had wrapped the gown Blaise had seen in her small hut in a clean skin to protect it against any damage similar to the gown she currently wore. She carried it with her as though it were a precious child.

Blaise couldn't help but remark upon it. "Are ye wishing to look presentable when I introduce ye to my father?"

Her pale cheeks heated again. 'Twas easy making that color appear in her skin, it seemed. The pink color contrasted nicely on her pale cheeks.

She swallowed. "Aye, I am a lady and wish to look as one when I am in good company."

"Ah, then you should be wearing it now as you are in my company." He grinned. He visualised her wearing finery, a clean gown with color, and the dirt washed from her hair and face, but his efforts were constantly stalled as he could only picture her as she was now. Still, even dressed as a filthy serf, she was beautiful.

She looked at him, one dark eyebrow raised, a sardonic smile touching her full lips. "My apologies, milord, but as you are wearing nothing at all beneath my blanket I foolishly assumed that 'twould not be necessary."

Blaise grumbled at her biting reply, eager to get into a pair of leggings, boots, and tunic instead of walking around with the cold breeze tickling his shrivelling manhood.

He needed to take his mind away from the chill that assaulted him. "Where did you come about a fine gown such as that? Considering your situation and all, my lady, I find it unlikely you had the money to have it made."

She glared at him. "'Twas a gift from my father to my mother, before she stole herself away like she did."

"Your mother kept the gown all this time? I thought she despised the man enough to run away?" Even had that not been the case, Blaise would have had trouble believing her simply because of the condition in which she lived.

"She did despise him, and was always seeking to make me despise him with her stories as well.”

She stopped and cleared her throat, as though only now aware of what she had said. “I believe she kept it for something to sell should we ever be in dire need. When I grew old enough, fearing she would soon sell it, I begged her to give it to me instead."

"Hmm," It seemed like a plausible explanation, but her story combined with her current situation and miraculous rescue of him, made him question her true motives, as he'd learned to question everyone's since Robert, a mere groom, used him to try and lift up his social status.

"There, 'tis where I found you."

Blaise pulled himself from his thoughts and stared at the spot where her delicate finger pointed. In the center of the road was a small pond of rainwater. A toad swam frantically inside while a pair of robins harassed it.

Curious as to how deep the puddle ran, Blaise bent down, picked up a fist sized rock, and tossed it in the water. The splash frightened away the birds and saved the toad, but the water was deep enough that when the rock went in he could no longer see it.

Blaise turned to stare at Elizabeth, who met his gaze with no smirk on her face or victory in her eyes. When she claimed to have saved him from drowning in, of all things, a puddle, he assumed she had been making the situation seem worse than it was to claim her reward for his rescue.

However, if this small lake in the middle of the road had been where he lay with his face pointed towards the earth, he no longer had any doubts that he, a grown man and knight, could be killed by it.

'Twas mortifying and surprising, and he thanked the Lord that being killed in such a weak manner had not been his Fate. To be remembered as a man who drowned in a puddle! 'Twas worse than death itself!

"'Twas not so deep when I found ye, but the rain did fall heavily. Had I left you there the water would have filled—”

"And I would have met my end. I see that now." Blaise turned his eyes away from the offending water to continue his walk.

Elizabeth followed at his heels, as he expected she would. "I shall introduce you to my family and explain how I came to know you." He stopped abruptly to glare at her. "I will tell my father the manner in which you saved my life, but no one else is to hear of it, understood?"

As if sensing the threat, she bobbed a minor curtsy. "Aye, milord."

***

Elizabeth could barely contain her excitement as Graystone came into view. A stone fortress of immense length and height that stood proudly on top of a small hill, with powerful cylindrical towers that bolstered its thick walls.

The image before her made Elizabeth feel small, her plan for a better life inside those battlemented barriers foolish. It also made her legs wish to run in the other direction now that she made it so far.

She forced herself to keep moving with Lord Blaise. The young lord she travelled with seemed to become more and more sour every step they took. She knew by his earlier threat that 'twas solely because he did not wish to be seen wearing nothing but the ragged blanket she gave him for cover.

His scowl deepened until crooked hills lined his forehead as they came up the road that led to the gate. Serfs and other men and women who tended the fields halted with their tools in hand as they passed. They stared openly, some pointing their fingers.

Elizabeth waited for Blaise to call out a command for them to return to their duties, but he remained silent and angry. Likely because he wished to draw no further attention to himself.

Elizabeth longed to do something to rescue him from this humiliation, perhaps then he would treat her with a little more gratitude.

No solution came to her. Elizabeth remained silent as they walked until they finally stepped up to the gatehouse. The drawbridge was down, but the portcullis was lowered. It allowed her to see the inside of the courtyard but denied them entrance.

Blaise raised his head and bellowed, "James!"

A knight of a similar age stuck his head between the battlements. His eyes squinted, then widened at the sight of his lord, without a horse, wearing a strange garb, and the woman with him.

"Lord Blaise! What ha—"

"Let us in! I shall explain when I am properly dressed!"

James's head ducked back behind the battlements. He shouted an order, and with the sound of heavy chains clanging, the portcullis was lifted from the ground and Elizabeth and Blaise were allowed entrance.

Elizabeth walked with uncertainty under the holes in the stone above her. Fear embraced her as visions of the men above locking her in the gatehouse, shooting her, then pouring boiling water over her dying body came to her.

No such measures were taken against her. She breathed a heavy sigh when she and Blaise appeared on the other side of the gates unharmed.

James and other knights rushed down from their positions above and around the castle to gape at their lord. "Milord, were you attacked?" Asked James, who continually sent Elizabeth cautious stares.

How did he intend to answer the question without revealing his humiliating defeat at the hands of street thieves. None of her expectations prepared her for his arm around her waist, pulling her close until her body was firmly against his.

"I am in the company of a beautiful woman and wearing only a blanket. Do I look like a man who has suffered a defeat?"

There was a pause, then most of the knights laughed at the meaning behind his words. Elizabeth flushed and ducked her head. How dare he make her out to be some common whore! She would shriek his ear of later, lord or no lord!

James was the only man in the group who showed no mirth. His eyes trailed up and down Elizabeth's filthy gown, her muddy face and hair, to the blanket Blaise had draped over his shoulders and wrapped around his midsection. "Lord Blaise, your horse—"

"Ah, yes.” Blaise’s blue eyes returned to Elizabeth. Her shock tripled as he stared at her with something akin to admiration. “While no man can best me in a match I am ashamed to admit that 'twas all too easy for them to sneak off with my belongings while I was with a woman such as this."

Elizabeth's face heated with anger as the men laughed again, shrugging off the fact that their lord was robbed as long as it was done while he was apparently bedding a woman.

Although she was the more filthy of the two of them, he was the swine!

"And as you can see, the gown she wears is for travel." Blaise said, pulling the skin packaging open so the men could see the fine green gown and bodice beneath, leaving them no room to think that their lord was traveling with some meager peasant.

Eager to stamp on any misconceptions before the men in front of her took her to be a whore eager to be the plaything of any man among them, she spoke without thinking. "Aye, as your betrothed 'twas easy for me to enjoy your attentions, lord Blaise."

The knights stopped laughing. They all stared at Elizabeth with round eyes, including Blaise. He righted his features before the other men, squeezing her tighter to his side. "That is was, my sweet Eliza." He hissed her name as though it were cursed.

Elizabeth instantly regretted her mistake in presuming she could insinuate something like that and get away with it. Whatever punishment or humiliation was available for her words, Blaise would likely see to it that she suffered it.

"Where is my father?" Blaise demanded.

"Right here."

Elizabeth spun at the sound of the commanding voice. An older man with blond hair with flecks of grey in it approached, his back straight and face that of concern. A child of five or six ran at his side to keep up with the longer legs of his father before picking up speed and rushing to Blaise.

Blaise knelt down and threw his arms open for the squealing child to rush into. “Blaise!” The boy said. “Where were you?”

Blaise stroked the blond head. “Just having a pleasant walk.”

“Aye, too pleasant by the look of things.” The knights stepped aside for the older lord, and when he was in front of them he eyed his eldest son with curiosity.

Elizabeth's mouth nearly dropped. This man was his father? She was sure she had made a mistake because they looked nothing alike.

Lord Gray stood tall and proud before his son, but not taller, and the older man sported hair that spoke of soft sand which suggested Blaise inherited his hideous hair from his mother. And while Eliza could never accuse Blaise of appearing skinny, he almost appeared small when his shoulders were compared to the broad mass of his father’s.

As if hearing her thoughts and becoming insulted by them, Blaise gripped her hand and yanked her towards the older man. "Father, this is lady Eliza Hollow—”

“Elizabeth.” She corrected.

Blaise’s lips curled. “Elizabeth. My betrothed." He hissed the last part much the same as he had hissed her name, squeezing her hand as he did so. "Eliza, this is my father, lord William Gray."

Had Blaise not introduced them Elizabeth would have gone on believing she'd made a mistake in his identity. She curtsied low, wishing to avoid any questions the man might give her following his shocked gaze. He surely did not expect his son to confess to being betrothed to a woman who looked as though she sat below a serf on the grand scale of things.

She groaned at the mental image she gave herself, wishing with all her might that she had time to throw away the ragged thing she wore so that she might be dressed properly like she planned.

Lord Gray peered behind her instead and addressed Blaise. Elizabeth’s knees shook when a pleased smile lifted his lips. "Betrothed?"

She couldn’t believe it. Was the man not angry?

"Father, may I have a private audience with you in your solar?" Blaise rushed his words, grabbing Elizabeth's hand in his iron grasp again. She fought to keep from showing any pain as his hand squeezed too hard.

William blinked, seeming to sense the desperate mood surrounding his son. "Very well, but I want you dressed first."

Blaise looked down at himself, as though remembering how little he wore. He released Elizabeth's hand and rushed across the courtyard.

Elizabeth rubbed her wrist, her entire hand cold now that his firm grip no longer kept it hot.

Lord Gray put a gentle hand over her shoulder and pulled her along with him. "Come, lady Elizabeth, I shall introduce you to the mistress of the house."

Her body tensed at his unexpected touch and soft voice, especially since her crusty garments were now ruining his clean clothes. But he did not seem to mind, nor did he give another glance to the hideous gown she wore with its dirty hems and tears. Indeed, he did not even hesitate as he led her in the same direction Blaise had run off in.

His words of being introduced to the lady of the castle finally reached her. Elizabeth jerked to a stop in panic. "Nay, milord, I—" She cleared her throat and forced calm into her heart. "Please, milord, may I dress first? I am appalled in the manner I presented myself to you and would like to do better for your wife."

He laughed. Laughed! "I do not believe Marianne will much care how ye look, but I shall send you off with a maid if it calms your soul."

He spoke in such a gentle manner that Elizabeth already felt at ease in his presence, as though she’d known him her entire life.

Elizabeth had always been taught that wealthy men, lords, and ladies were cruel beings who did not much care for pleasantries unless they were directed towards themselves. Her mother told her that they took what they wanted, and did not care a whiff of anyone else.

She had always known it had been a mistake. The nobles were called nobles for a reason and lord Gray was proof enough of that. She'd known the man for less than five minutes and she liked him already.

***

Elizabeth was taken an empty room, and as promised, a young servant girl came to help her out of her filthy rags. The tight sleeves pealed from her arms like a second skin, and Eliza’s body seemed to inhale a breath of fresh air as it was removed.

Despite the wonderful welcome and treatment, Elizabeth could hardly contain her awe at her surroundings. 'Twas no servant’s room she had been directed to. She could tell even though she had never been inside of a castle before.

The elegantly carved four poster bed, with a mattress that looked thick and soft with clean quilts was the item worth the most admiration. She could not wait until she could sleep in it. Thick rushes on the floor welcomed her feet, and painted oak furniture were proof enough that lord Gray must indeed have enjoyed their first meeting.

As she had yet to explain that she'd saved the life of lord Gray’s son, 'twas likely she’d only been shown this room because lord William assumed she truly was lord Blaise’s betrothed. She shuddered to think of what he would do when he discovered it had just been a jest on her part.

Eliza wanted to bathe, but with how quickly her gown had been thrown on her, and the promise of meeting the lady of the castle in mere minutes, she didn't dare ask for one. ‘Twould be too presumptuous and take far too long.

“Ye seem out of sorts, milady.” The girl said while her fingers worked on the many buttons and laces.

Elizabeth scratched her arm under the tight sleeves; dirty skin itched beneath the fine fabric, driving her mad. Though she had scrubbed her face with an old rag before setting off with Blaise, her body protested any further movement before washing. “Could we perhaps take another moment for me to wash?”

The servant girl’s face widened, as though she hadn’t thought of it. She turned her head to the empty basin where water should have been, and bobbed an apologetic curtsy.

“Forgive me, milady. I ‘ad not realized water ‘ad not been brought in.” The girl promptly scurried out of the room like a frightened bird. Elizabeth stood confused when alone. How long would she take? Would Elizabeth still be in time to be introduced to lady Gray?

Those thoughts barely left her head before the girl rushed back inside with a pitcher in her hands. She poured the water into the basin that sat on the table, and Elizabeth sighed and surged forward like a starved man towards food.

She splashed her face and rubbed her neck with the cool liquid while the girl behind her worked on loosening her gown so that she might scrub her arms. She washed until the water turned brown with the mud from her hair, face, and arms. The servant girl swiftly carried off the soiled water and brought fresh water to her so that she might finish cleaning herself.

Ah, what would she have done without the swift little bird behind her? Elizabeth did not care that the water splashed against her gown as long as it was only in small drops, just so long as she emerged a clean lady.

She scrubbed everywhere she could without entirely removing the only fine bit of clothing she owned, even scraping the dirt out from under her fingernails.

Her skin felt lighter, not tight with drying mud, and while her hair was again soaking limp because of when she put her entire head in the basin, she still felt clean and refreshed. She heaved a happy sigh and addressed the girl trying to dry her hair without wrinkling her gown. "I think I am ready now. What is your name, girl?"

"Olma, milady," she said, leaving her hair so that she might return to helping Elizabeth back into her gown. "Shall I send that one for washing?" She asked, indicating the filthy gown with a jerk of her head.

Elizabeth looked at it and winkled her nose. "Nay, I shall never wear it again after tonight."

***

Elizabeth was led to the solar where Blaise intended to explain to his father that he was not betrothed to the woman he brought home with him. While she did not look forward to the embarrassing encounter, she delighted when all eyes in the room focused on her.

Blaise's especially. No longer wearing the shoddy blanket she presented him with earlier, her heart fluttered at the sight of his clean tunic, boots, and leggings.

Elizabeth resisted the urge to reach up and touch her heart. How strange! She had seen him naked before and walked with him knowing there was naught beneath that foul robe she gave him but hard flesh, and yet the sight of him fully clothed still sent a shiver through her.

He suddenly seemed ... perfect. Even his hideous hair, now washed of the dirt that darkened the orange color, seemed as bright as a flame on top of his head.

He turned his head away from a conversation with his father, looked at her, and his jaw dropped a few inches while the color of his eyes seemed to become a brighter shade of blue.

She had no jewels to speak of, but the gown she wore and hard scrubbing made her feel as refined and beautiful as any real lady. The little servant girl, Olma, had done a wonderful job braiding her thick brown hair in a shining crown above her head.

Would Blaise be giving her such a look of intensity had she covered half her head in a headdress?

Remembering herself, she curtsied to everyone in the room. "My lords, my lady." She amended, seeing the woman standing beside lord Gray. Her belly protruded heavily away from her body, but that did not deter the gentle smile on her face.

She had hair of such brilliant, impossible red that Elizabeth would have been certain she was Blaise’s mother, if only they did not appear so close in age. “Are you to be my new daughter?”

“New—” Elizabeth sputtered, her body heating. Had Blaise not explained that they were not to be wed after all?

Lord Gray took the woman's hand and pat it gently. “Marianne, my dear, I am sorry to say that 'tis not to be. You have only just arrived shortly before our guest, and have not heard Blaise's confession.”

William looked pointedly at his son. Blaise’s face coloured all the way up to that flame-shaped orange head of his, and in turn Blaise sent a sharp glance towards Elizabeth. “Aye, Marianne. Elizabeth and I are not to be married. ‘Twas her simple chattering that spawned that rumour.”

Elizabeth bristled under her gown and clenched her fists. "I would have made no comment at all had you not been jesting with those men outside that I was your whore."

William snapped his eyes towards Blaise. 'Twas the first time Elizabeth had seen their calm blues appear so sharp. "Is that true?"

Blaise had the decency to duck his head in an abashed manner. "Father, I was attacked on the road last night in the rain and robbed of everything."

Marianne brought her hand up to cover a small gasp. William's eyes widened. "Was this the reason for your grand entrance today?"

Blaise nodded. "Aye. I simply did not want the men to know that I had been taken in by a few peasants. So I explained to them that I was robbed while bedding her."

"You foolish boy." Lord Gray hissed.

Elizabeth's mouth dropped when, instead of scolding him further, lord Gray pulled Blaise from his seat to hold him. "I care not about the nature of your robbery so long as you are returned safely."

Blaise pulled eagerly away from his father's grasp and cleared his throat. "Aye, well, 'tis also the reason why I bring Eliza with me today. She saved my life."

All eyes returned their attention to her. Elizabeth’s body warmed under their curious stares. She ducked her head as though she could avoid the heat.

Lady Gray grinned proudly. Lord Gray eyed her curiously, rubbing his chin. "Is that so? Against a band of thieves? Well then, I can certainly see why you wouldn't want the men outside knowing of that."

"William!" Lady Gray’s grin disappeared.

"I was only saying," he muttered.

Elizabeth decided to speak for herself before Blaise could utter another word. "Actually, milord, I came upon Blaise later. The men attacked him and left him for dead in the middle of the road. He lay in a puddle, and if he had been left there and not awoke before the rain could fill it with more water, he would have drowned."

William looked to his son for confirmation.

Blaise sighed, as though hesitant to admit to his near defeat at the hands of a puddle. "'Tis true. I have the wound on the back of my head to prove it."

"Thank the Lord you are safe!" Lady Gray said as her husband reached his hand behind his son’s head to find the giant lump. Blaise hissed when his father’s fingers touched it.

"It appears we owe you quite a bit of thanks, Elizabeth." Lord Gray said. "I am not one to let a deed like this go without its reward. Name whatever you wish, and I shall give it to you."

Blaise smiled playfully at her. "She has expressed an interest in working in our kitchens."

"Nay! No! I—" Elizabeth stopped herself, humiliated by her outburst. She cleared her throat and softened her voice. "Please, milord, my father was a wealthy, noble man, but unfortunate Fate had me taken from him before the time I was born and raised in poverty. If ye believe ye owe me anything, I would like to have that rectified."

William shook his head. "I cannot give you a title, but if money is what ye seek, I can arrange for something."

***

Blaise awaited her reply, waited for Elizabeth to prove that she was just another greedy harlot out to make a profit off of him. Admittedly, ‘twas difficult seeing her as anything but innocent with the beauty that seemed to encase itself in her very being. She practically glowed with it as her wide eyes blinked a few times while she thought of what answer she would give.

Her dark eyes turned and met his. Blaise’s breath stilled. How did she have the power to do this to him! She gazed inside of him as though attempting to see what was in his head.

Blaise did not like it. He scowled and turned away.

Elizabeth returned her attention to his father and hesitated, as though unsure of herself.

After a moment she shook her head. "Nay, milord, for payment in saving the life of your son, I humbly ask to be able to live in this castle with you and your family."

Blaise rocked back on the soles of his booted feet. Surely she jested! He looked to his father. The man scratched his chin as though contemplating an answer.

Finally, William looked at him. "'Tis your life she spared, what say you?"

Blaise wanted to deny her the right to live in the castle as an equal instead of a servant since that was the wench's goal the whole time. He stared into her eyes, the same color as the mud which had been caked on her during their walk back to the castle. He'd nearly been thrown off his guard when she presented herself, washed and dressed like a true lady, but he knew the truth.

Or at least, he thought he did. The pleading look she sent him now was nothing like the manipulative stares he used to receive from Robert whenever the man wanted something.

He knew better now. He would never allow himself to be so small that he could be manipulated again.

Still, Elizabeth was...different. He sensed something beneath her, hiding, and he did not like it. But if he was wrong about her, would he be tossing a woman who had saved his life, with nothing but the best intentions in mind, out into the cold?

He needed to know for certain before he made that decision. He needed to prove to himself whether she was innocent or guilty of using him for her own benefit.

Whether she be a greedy social climbing wench or not, she still saved his life. The least he could do was allow her to stay while he made up his mind. "She stays, for now."

Eliza's chest deflated as though she’d been holding her breath. "Thank you, milord."

His smile was the only response he would give to her. He would not forewarn her about his intent to watch her, that any misstep she made, any hint he received that she planned for this, would be her undoing. He would send her out himself.

He refused to be used by anyone else.

His step-mother, Marianne, went to Eliza and put her arms about her shoulders, welcoming the other woman whole heartedly. "I am sorry to hear of your situation, Elizabeth. Perhaps we can send a messenger to your father and let him know that you are here."

Eliza shook her head. "'Tis very generous of you, but my father died six years ago. I don't believe he even knew I existed. I am a bastard."

Sympathy swelled inside Blaise when she uttered that profanity. "Do not call yourself that vile word."

Elizabeth’s eyes went to him, their shock that he should defend her from herself plain even to him. Then she smiled, and Blaise felt the anger melt away. He felt light and well.

"Thank you, milord, but 'tis true nonetheless. My mother took me from him before I was born and hid me away until she too finally went into hiding. She feared he would take me from her. 'Twas how she explained it to me, at least."

"Do you know the name of your father?" William asked.

Eliza nodded. "Sir Bartholomew Ferdinand."

As though the air had been sucked from the room, everyone stopped breathing for some seconds.

A flash of memory passed through Blaise's mind, as vivid as though it were happening before his eyes. 'Twas of that old man, Ferdinand, a villain known for torturing women, running towards William and Marianne with a blade in his hand, intent on destroying them.

Blaise had rushed forth and kicked the man's feet out from under him, and the devil fell and stabbed himself in the neck with his own dagger.

Blaise never thought much of the memory, certainly had never lost any sleep over it. But now, guilt wracked his soul that he had apparently murdered this girl's father.

Chapter Three

Elizabeth awoke from her dream and snuggled further into the warmth of her bed. A lazy grin touched her lips. The feather mattress provided a better night's sleep than the mound of putrid hay she'd been using in her mother's hut.

Memories of insects and dirt brought a shiver to her shoulders. Nay, never again would she trouble herself with those memories. Now she was here, in a beautiful room in a castle, and lady in waiting to Lady Gray.

She allowed herself a luxurious stretch before sitting up. It seemed the bedchamber she had been led to the day before had once belonged to Lord Gray's mother, and while it had almost never been used since the death of the woman, it had been kept in a good, clean condition. Now Elizabeth was free to have it.

"I think 'tis time a new soul brought life to it." William had said after suggesting that she stay there.

She'd been shocked at first, having expected to share a room with another servant rather than being given one of her own. Though she supposed 'twas one more thing the lord of the castle thought so little of when compared to having his son’s life spared.

Blaise. How angelic he appeared while observing her in Lord Gray’s solar. Not at all compared to when she first saw him in the road.

The image brought a shudder to her shoulders and a regretful stirring in her chest. No. Best not to think of that. He was safe now, and that was all that mattered.

He had been handsome once she'd brought him in from the rain and cleaned him up, despite the displeasing color of his hair. She had spent a good deal of time with him, listening to his complaints of the muck during their trek back to his castle, so Elizabeth became unnerved when he simply vanished after she explained her situation and who her father was.

His face had paled of color, allowing her to see every individual freckle on his otherwise tanned nose and cheeks. He had excused himself and all but fled from the room.

Elizabeth lifted herself from the bed, walked across the room, and gazed out the window at the sunrise that coloured the horizon.

'Twas two days ago, and since then she had only seen him during meals in the great hall. Though there were fireplaces in each room, enabling a lord and his lady to have their meals in privacy, it seemed Lord Gray insisted upon eating with the men and women who served him, as well as requiring that his family and guests do the same.

"'Twas something Lady Gray demanded when she first came to be mistress of the castle," said Olma when Elizabeth gave her a curious glance. "She said it keeps the servants respectful."

Elizabeth was not precisely certain how that worked, but if the lord and lady insisted on it then she would oblige.

Though they hadn't rushed out of the solar and avoided her as Blaise had when she revealed the name of her father, Lord Gray, and especially Lady Gray, had been giving her strange glances when they thought she would not see them. Being raised the daughter of a prostitute, Elizabeth grew to know when the eyes of another stared at her.

She did not like it. The name of her father obviously stirred displeasure in their hearts and Elizabeth longed to know the reason of it.

Did they know Sir Ferdinand? Was he ally or enemy? And was he truly as horrible as her mother claimed? Or was she a selfish woman who demanded that her daughter live with her in the most foul of circumstances? Was this the reason they had taken such an interest in her, wished to know her age, where she was born, and the name of her mother?

Elizabeth had to answer questions they asked of her, though because of who they were she would never dare to demand answers from them. Olma had yet to offer any information either, but she could ask Blaise.

She would have to step cautiously while in his presence. If the man ever became aware that she had plotted his robbery, she would be tossed from the castle. If she were lucky.

She had hired those men because she knew them, almost. They were part of her mother’s clientele, and harmless enough, or so she had thought. They were to simply watch out for the man with orange hair and surprise him. They were not to beat him into unconsciousness, steal his clothing, and leave him for dead in a rain puddle.

Elizabeth sighed and shook her head. Perhaps the amount of money she had given them as payment was smaller than she had thought. “‘Tis my own fault for trusting them.” She supposed she should feel grateful they had not outright killed him in their attack, and not simply because then her plans would have been for naught. Elizabeth did not know how she would have been able to live with herself had a man’s blood been put on her hands.

Elizabeth turned away from the colourful glow rising from the east. Perhaps if she confessed…

She shook the thought away quickly. Nay. She could never tell him. To do so would risk everything she had worked hard to accomplish. She could never sell her body as her mother had, and what little she could grow behind that hut or steal from the unsuspecting travellers was not enough to ensure her survival.

Blaise Gray was known for his lonesome rides. Or, at least, Elizabeth imagined they were lonesome. Every time she had seen him he was always alone, not a knight or even a page with him. 'Twas a miracle no one had thought to rob him before. As reckless as he was, Lord knew he practically begged for trouble. Elizabeth had done him a favour. At least now he would be more aware of the dangers.

A knock sounded on the door, breaking her silence and startling her into a fearful jump. Dear Lord! What if a servant heard her speaking to herself on the other side of the door? With a trembling voice she called, “Who is there?”

“‘Tis I, Lady Elizabeth.” Olma's voice carried softly to her ears.

Elizabeth sighed. She had not lived at Graystone for long, but she knew already that Olma kept to herself and did not search for gossip as other servants did. Still, she would have to remember to keep her thoughts inside her head and not speak them out loud.

Elizabeth allowed the girl entrance, and then Olma proceeded to bustle about and dress her in the green gown she had worn her first day in the castle.

Lord Gray had promised to find her some old gowns that belonged to his mother and have them hemmed to fit her, but until then she would have to wear her green one. She hoped the other gowns would be ready soon, for she had no desire to use hers any longer than necessary. She wished to preserve it. It had, after all, been a gift from her mother.

"Olma, where is Lord Blaise?" Elizabeth asked while the girl worked on the strings of her corset.

Olma paused briefly before the tightening at her back continued. "‘e is usually with the men at the gate or tending to the mews."

"The mews? Are there not men who will do that for him?"

"Aye, but ‘e prefers to go down anyway, Lady Elizabeth."

Elizabeth's spine tingled as Olma referred to her as a lady. 'Twas not the first time she had heard it since arriving, but she never grew weary of the sound.

‘Twas what she had always dreamed. To be what she truly was, more than a peasant girl who struggled to feed herself every winter.

The delicious tingle soon vanished, replaced with a cloud of worry and fear. Though Blaise would never learn of her part in his near death, and, God willing, Lord Gray would never learn it either, Blaise’s obvious suspicion frightened her.

'Twas impossible that he could know of it, though her fear had almost gotten the better of her when he stood up, naked in her hut, and demanded to know how it was that she knew his name. Her fear had nearly prevented her from giving a valid response until she recalled that his hair would make the perfect excuse. After all, 'twas what she used to send those men after him in the first place.

Though she was certain her lie had worked, she still caught his narrowed glances that were surely meant to be secret, and the distrust that lay across his face as he observed her.

Anger twisted her guts. He acted so distrustful of her when he and his family obviously hid things of her own past from her.

Elizabeth would rectify that. She would be with Lady Gray and accompany her throughout whatever the lady decided to do during the day. Eventually, Elizabeth would make it known that she wished to become better acquainted with the young lord whom she had saved.

She knew better than to attempt any romantic involvement. She would befriend him. Then she would hint and pry until the answers of her father were revealed to her. 'Twould be difficult, but she would persist until all that anger and suspicion in his soul melted away.

She was not some evil fiend out to steal his wealth, and she would not be thought of as one simply because he chose to dislike her. She merely wished to live a life outside of that hovel where she had been raised. Clean, and safe from predators of both the animal and human variety.

She would befriend Blaise, gain his trust, and in return the young lord would be at ease knowing his home had not been invaded by a creature of foul intent.

Elizabeth could hardly wait for their next meeting.

***

Blaise lounged while his father paced. Marianne stood by and watched her husband with her hands clasped above her bulging belly.

"The girl is six and twenty. Too old to be your daughter. You know this," she said.

Blaise shuddered and lifted his goblet to his lips to chase away the chill. He thanked the Lord for that small miracle. That the woman who had rescued him, and for whom he had experienced physical lust, no matter how brief, was not his sister, was a tremendous relief.

Still, his father continued to pace. When Eliza revealed who her father was, next she spoke of the identity of her mother.

When she explained that her mother was Bertha Hollow, the same prostitute whom William had once visited in his youth, panic had entered his eyes until she revealed her age. She had been born a good year before his father ever went to Bertha for her services.

As Blaise had not been in the solar at the time to learn of this, he had to be told later. Terror chilled his blood at the thought until Marianne used calm logic to explain how Eliza could not have been mistaken. If she insisted that Ferdinand was her father, then her father he must be.

“She claimed that her mother took her from her father before she had been born and that her mother went into hiding later. I had assumed Bertha had been killed by Ferdinand when we stopped hearing from her.” His father said.

Marianne’s eyes were downcast. “That poor woman. To have to hide away from Ferdinand her entire life.”

“Aye,” William stopped his pacing and sighed.

Blaise shrugged, refusing to let the tale bring any pity out of him. “I still distrust the daughter.”

His suspicion aside, he could hardly believe his rescuer was older than he by almost a full year. His step mother was also older, and Blaise's original betrothed until he had written her a letter calling off their marriage.

Insulted, the red-headed wench had gone and kidnapped his father and married him instead, even if only by accident. It seemed Blaise would be forever haunted by older women in his life.

William nodded at Blaise’s earlier statement. "Aye, I know ye do. But ‘tis not all that concerns me. If she truly is the daughter of Ferdinand then she has no doubt inherited some of his more dubious personality traits."

Blaise found himself under the hard blue stare of his father. "I believe this would be a fine time for your suspicious nature to run free. Keep on your guard around her."

"William! 'Tis nonsense that a person can inherit any bad behaviours and ye well know it. If it were true, I would be a gambling addict.” Marianne said. “Elizabeth saved Blaise's life, we owe her more than our suspicion."

"My dear, I am shocked that you so eagerly defend the girl, considering your hatred for her father."

Blaise had heard this story more times than he could count, and so he stopped paying attention to the bickering of the older people in the room. Blaise's true father was not the man standing in the room with him at all, but a mere groom who worked in the stables. Robert. Despite his lack of education or wealth, the man had still managed to deceive Blaise's mother, the first Lady Gray, Alice, into believing her husband felt no love for her because of their constantly botched intimacy.

She allowed herself to be fooled by a man far beneath her, letting a mere servant seduce and bed her. William, unaware of his wife's betrayal, sought the help of a prostitute named Bertha to teach him the ways of the marriage bed. It would allow him and his wife to perform their matrimonial duties without William causing any harm to Alice.

Thankfully Alice confessed to her sin shortly after the affair. Unfortunately, she already had the child of another man in her womb. She gave birth to Blaise months later. She died during the ordeal, but William, who loved them both so dearly, raised a bastard son of a servant as his own anyway.

The groom, Robert, was sent away, only to return years later, cold and starving during the winter months. William took pity on the man and allowed him to stay as a groom once more.

As Blaise grew older, he allowed himself to be fooled by the man just as his mother had been. Believing Robert to be the victim of William's lack of love for Alice, Blaise had sympathized more with a servant than the man who was raising him. He had allowed himself to be used, not realizing until Robert kidnapped Marianne and sold her to Ferdinand that he had been tricked.

Robert had only taken such an interest in Blaise in the hopes that one day, after William's death, Blaise would lift him from his status as a groom and allow him luxuries other men of such low stations could never even dream of.

William did not hold Blaise responsible. And when they went to Ferdinand to retrieve Marianne from his clutches, Blaise was forced to take action when the man pulled out a dagger and rushed to kill his father and Marianne.

Did Eliza know that Blaise was responsible for the death of her father? Did she even know what sort of man her father had been? Blaise knew that if he would ever have any peace in his own home, he would need to find the answers quickly.

William approached Marianne and gently took her hand from its resting spot on her belly, though she still frowned and turned her head away in a pout. "Do not trouble yourself, my dear. I am not accusing the girl of anything, merely giving warning to stay on guard."

Marianne's face softened. "I like her. She reminds me of myself."

"'Tis a dangerous notion ye speak of," Blaise said behind his goblet. Marianne spun her vicious eyes on him. Blaise knew that if not for her condition she might have leapt across the room to brawl with him.

'Twas just as well that a knock sounded at the door.

“Enter,” William called. Olma opened the door and curtsied to the people in the room. Blaise's eyes were drawn to the vision behind the servant girl. The same gown as before, yet she still appeared as serene and heavenly as when his eyes first witnessed her in it.

She was too beautiful, too innocent to be involved in some devious plot to worm her way into his family and this castle.

He shook his head to clear it. Thoughts such as that were exactly why he needed to keep his defences strong against her sinful smile. Her eyes half lidded and full mouth parted as though inviting him to kiss it. Surely she could not know the silent message she was sending him at that moment?

He shook himself again. Fool. She is the daughter of a prostitute. She is perfectly aware of her behaviour.

Blaise returned her lusty smile with a snarl. Oddly displeased with her open shock and the way she stepped back.

"Blaise!"

He cringed at Marianne's voice shrieking in his ear. She glared down at him with her hands fisted on her hips.

He met her stare of annoyance with a playful smile, refusing to be moved. "Aye, Marianne?"

She made a sound of displeasure and walked forward to greet Eliza with a warm smile. Blaise watched them eagerly.

***

Elizabeth found herself being embraced by Lady Gray with all the warmth and comfort of a sister. Elizabeth grew warm under the treatment.

When Olma had first brought her to the door of the solar, shock greeted her at the sounds of the voices within. "I thought Blaise was at the mews?"

"'e was, last I heard, milady," the small girl said timidly, and Elizabeth decided that Olma truly hadn't known Blaise returned to the castle.

Olma raised her hand to announce their presence with a soft knock, but Elizabeth grabbed her hand. "Wait."

She pressed her ear to the door, eager for any information that could aid her in making Graystone her permanent home.

“Milady! What are ye—?”

Elizabeth hissed, waving her arm at the girl as though she were a fly. “Shh!”

Olma twittered about nervously. “Lady Elizabeth, please, ye cannot. ‘Tis dangerous to spy on the lord.” She whispered, but Elizabeth continued waving her off.

What she heard struck her harshly. Aside from Lady Gray, neither Lord Gray nor Blaise trusted her.

How could this be? She was certain her demeanor gave no reason to have anyone suspect her. Did they believe her to be responsible for Blaise’s attack?

No. A moment longer of listening and while she had no definite answer, she was certain they did not have any thoughts that she could have arranged for Blaise’s attack.

‘Twas relieving, but what had Lord Gray meant when he spoke of her father? So they did know sir Ferdinand. Elizabeth would find out what sort of girl they thought she was based on a man she did not know.

She allowed Olma to knock, and they entered the solar together. She straightened her back, and prepared to smile at the lord of the castle, hoping to win his affections enough to convince him that he had not invited a dangerous woman into his home.

Instead her eyes were drawn to Blaise, sitting on a stool and leaning his back against the stone wall, a goblet in his hand and hair windswept. He must have come into this room straight from riding his horse.

Perhaps his experience with the men Elizabeth had hired had not convinced him to take safer precautions when it came to his daily routines after all.

Regardless, his blue eyes captured her and held her in place. The innocent smile she had meant for Lord William turned into a wanting thing devoted solely to Blaise.

Her memory conjured the image of his naked form, standing before her, dangerous, and demanding. Elizabeth's breath left her, and her lips parted so that she might breathe easier.

Blaise returned her gaze with a fierce longing she had never seen before, as though he too was captured in whatever spell had ensnared her.

Then he glared at her.

Elizabeth stepped back, shocked at the hostility she found in his blue eyes. Useless tart! She admonished herself. The man believes you are out to steal from him and you look at him in such a manner? 'Tis no wonder he chooses not to trust ye!

Then Lady Marianne rushed forth and put her arms about Elizabeth's shoulder, holding her so close that the belly between them bumped her and pushed her away again.

Elizabeth smiled and pulled away from the lady of the castle and curtsied to her, the one person who seemed to believe she was worth trusting. Tears welled in her eyes, stinging their dry surfaces.

Stunned sympathy moulded Lady Gray’s cheeks. "Whatever is the matter?"

Elizabeth shook her head and wiped her eyes. "I have not been embraced like that since the death of my mother." And never had she expected a gentle bred lady to do so for her either. It brought up old regrets and made her wish that she and her mother had not fought so often before she died so horribly.

Lady Gray pulled Elizabeth into another embrace and held her tightly. Lady Gray threw a dirty look to Blaise, who turned his head away from the scene. Could he perhaps feel guilty over his words about her now that she was in an emotional state?

If he sought her honesty and would trust her for it, she would give it to him. She would spill all of her secrets, or at least, most of them, if it meant she could keep her new position in the castle.

She sent him another smile, though this one lacked the lust that thumped through her earlier. She squashed it down and replaced it with the excitement of her new plan. All she needed was to carry it out.

Marianne took her cheeks in both hands and turned her head so that she might face the older woman. "I am sorry for your mother, but I have some news that will cheer you. To celebrate Blaise's safe return, we have invited friends and family to Graystone to feast. There will be music and dancing to put a smile on yer lips, and 'tis also likely there will be a handsome man who will fall in love with a pretty girl such as yourself."

Elizabeth's face heated beyond anything she ever felt. Hope presented itself, stretched, and sprang around like an excited child. Being married would ensure her comfort indefinitely. "Do ye think so?"

"Marianne! The woman's been in this castle less than a fortnight and yer already trying to wed her off?" Blaise barked, glaring.

Lady Gray stuck her nose in the air in a haughty manner. "Simply because you choose not to wed does not mean that everyone else wishes to be a hermit."

Blaise crossed his arms, his sour mood radiating from him. "I am no hermit," he insisted.

He was pouting!

William shook his head and left the solar, mumbling about finding Edward.

Lady Gray returned her attention to Elizabeth, ignoring Blaise who still growled like a cat in the corner. "This celebration shall not be for at least another fortnight. We haven't even sent the messengers to inform William's friends of our intent. Ye surely shall have a new gown ready by then."

Elizabeth glowed. Then like a disappointed bird, her puffed feathers shrank back into herself as her glee disappeared. "Milady, if ye introduce me, I shall surely make an embarrassment of myself and you. I am not knowledgeable in the ways of courtly love, or manners, or—"

"Ah," Lady Gray raised her hand, silencing anything else that would have escaped Elizabeth's mouth before she took her hand and pattted it. Elizabeth could hardly believe the woman who behaved so motherly towards her was so close in age to herself.

"I should tell you that while growing up, I never had a nurse to teach me these things either. I learned as much as my brothers could teach before they passed on. But even then I never learned music, languages, or even sewing until Lady Anne took it upon herself to teach me."

"Lady Anne?"

"William's cousin, and mine now I suppose. But as you can see, despite all those flaws I possessed, William fell in love with me."

"Had no choice in the matter, as I recall." Blaise muttered.

Elizabeth opened her mouth to ask about his meaning, but Marianne squeezed her hand and stole her attention again, smiling brightly as though she hadn't heard the insult Blaise uttered. "If you need a tutor, then I'm certain Blaise will be a true gentleman and offer his services."

Blaise nearly teetered off of his stool with how hard he rocked on it to stand on his feet. "The devil I will!"

Again, Lady Gray pretended not to hear. "I am certain that by the beginning of the celebration you shall be a lady to be admired." She forcefully shoved Elizabeth in Blaise's direction with more strength than a woman in her condition should possess.

She stumbled on her gown and landed in Blaise's chest. His hands clenched like iron shackles around her arms as he steadied her. Elizabeth turned her head up and met the complete displeasure on his face, as well as a dark glow under his tanned flesh.

Lady Marianne laughed as though she had not nearly injured her new lady in waiting. "I certainly shall not hold fault against you for wishing to proceed straight away. Come find me when today's lesson ends!"

"Marianne!" Blaise roared, still squeezing Elizabeth's arms in his tight fingers.

While unsure if her eyes played tricks on her, Elizabeth thought she saw Blaise's orange hair blaze over his head in fiery indignation. 'Twould be fitting to be named after the flame that burned over his skull.

The lady ignored the furious call of her step-son and waddled out of the solar as quickly as her feet would take her. Olma, frightened of the display, followed her instead of opting to stay.

For the first time since she arrived at Graystone, Elizabeth found herself completely alone with the man she had rescued on that rainy road. He still held her close to his chest, as though unsure of what to do with her.

Elizabeth did not mind. She marveled at the solid form of his chest beneath his tunic and her fingers. When she had first laid eyes on it, she immediately knew of love and admiration for his handsome body. She was not a blind woman, but never would she have thought to feel such pleasure being held so tightly to him.

"Well, my sweet Eliza," he said, and Elizabeth turned her head up, lifting herself from her lustful thoughts and once again banishing the image of Blaise's broad shoulders, bare chest, and strong legs in her hut.

He stared at her with one side of his lip curled and his nose scrunched, as though his current situation was somehow her fault. "I shall speak to my father, but because he allows Marianne every freedom she desires I doubt we shall escape this arrangement.”

She swallowed. “What do ye suggest, then, Lord Blaise?”

His lip did not curl, nor did any hint of amusement enter his eyes. “Shall we begin?"

She nodded. “By all means.”

About The Author

Rizzo Rosko lives and works in Ottawa, Ontario, is a romance junkie, a lousy web designer, and is working hard to improve the craft of creating an actual plot. She one day hopes to stop mooching off her big brother for cheap rent, because, as we all know, writing is an easy way to earn a lot of cash.

Rosko has won no awards, requires eleven hours of sleep per night, and sometimes has to force herself to sit in her chair to write because, for the most part, she is too lazy to write an outline before sitting down at her computer.

Other Books by Rizzo Rosko

From Siren Publishing (As Mandy Rosko)

Mate of the Wolf

Night and Day M/M

Eclipse

The Wolf’s Pack sequel to Mate of the Wolf (Coming Sept 2011)

From Smashwords

Lady Thief

Lady Deception (Coming August 2011)

Connect With Me Online:

Website: www.rizzorosko.com

Blog: www.rizzorosko.blogspot.com

Twitter: http://twitter.com/Rizzorosko

Smashwords: http://www.smashwords.com/profile/view/rizzorosko