Lady Thief Read online

"Because, whoever enters the forest without permission from the outlaws is never heard from again,” Derrick answered before taking a sip of his own brew. “My man was quite impressed with the accomplishments of one particular band of thieves in robbing the rich. I think it a farfetched tale, but he says there is one crafty outlaw in particular who sends the sheriff into frequent spurts of spitting mad fits. Her name is Lady Thief."

  Lucian choked on his ale, looking at Derrick in surprise. Using the edge of his sleeve to wipe the spilt ale from his chin, his attention now focused on Derrick. “Their leader is a woman? How the hell can this be?"

  "Don't know. She's quite clever though. Prince John is fuming about the disturbing amount of gold and jewels stolen in the last six months. The price for protecting his loyal subjects is dipping deep into England's coffers, and he can't afford it for much longer. Soon Richard will be coming home to reclaim his throne from his dear little brother, and John'll have to explain the costly drain."

  Hatred blazed briefly in Lucian's dark eyes at the mention of Richard the Lionheart. Lucian hunched over and drank his cup dry. Pouring another, he stared into the roaring flames of the nearby fire.

  "Well, Lady Thief had better stay to her side of the forest and well away from my new holdings. I'd hate to have to teach her the hard lesson of crossing paths with the Butcher. No one will interfere with my plans, especially an uppity woman thief."

  * * * *

  Hard, dove-gray eyes studied the unsuspecting knights riding the King's Highway. Hidden in the thick foliage, using the trees and heavy brush for cover, Eiry Savoy observed her prey. The knights were fully armored, shields slung by their left knees for easy access, alert for any signs of danger. Shadow-cloaked, she frowned, her attention centered upon the lead knight. The man's long, jet-black hair flowed down his armored back, differed from the short-cropped style customary for the Normans. Tilting her head to the side, Eiry inhaled sharply, entranced by his harsh beauty, seeing only the right side of his strong features. The knight patted the nervous warhorse's neck, unaware the black stallion had caught Eiry and her men's scent.

  Eiry glanced up at the sun shining high above, her nose and cheeks numb. Whenever the brisk, cold wind ceased, which was less than often, the day grew warm. Many of the leaves on the surrounding trees and bushes remained steadfast despite the coming winter season. Her gaze fell upon the lead knight and cocked her head to the side when he abruptly glanced around him as if he, too, had sensed their presence. Suddenly, the mighty stallion he rode snorted and rose on his back legs and issued a loud, throaty challenge. Donning his helm, the knight cursed a string of swear words when a large band of unknown knights burst from around the bend in the road. Their long lances leveled at him and his men. The challenging knights had their shields covered with pilgrimage bunting and helms closed, further hiding their identity.

  "Why do you dare attack me?” he roared.

  From where they hid, she watched the leader of the newcomers advance, aiming the sharpened tip of his lance at the knight whom she had admired. He displayed a deliberate discourtesy by not raising his helm for the man to see who challenged him. The blatant disrespect appeared to anger the bold, handsome knight even further. Observing the unfolding scene from the safety of the trees, Eiry grew uneasy at what she witnessed. They'd heard stories about a rogue band of knights harassing men returned from the Crusades. Fellow outlaws suggested those same knights killed the Crusaders in order to keep England helpless while her king was away warring in the Holy Land. Eiry's fears were confirmed when the twenty attacking knights’ had roared, racing toward the eleven, who were armed simply with swords and shields.

  She met the concerned, brown-eyed gaze of her second in command, Louie Janssen. They were the same age of ten and nine and had grown up together close as siblings since Louie's father had been Sir Thomas’ second in command and best friend. Grinning with daring recklessness, she drew back the taut string of her long bow, aiming her arrow at the knight attacking the dark-haired man she'd admired. Sparing a quick glance at her men, Eiry's grin broadened when Louie ran a flustered hand through his short, flaming red hair and rolled his eyes heavenward. The men in her band groaned softly. Drawing back their Welsh bows, long ash arrows notched, they waited for her signal.

  * * * *

  Lucian bellowed his war cry, accepting the newcomers’ challenge. Urging his horse forward, he fearlessly raced to meet their attack. Leaning abruptly to the left of the incoming lance, he avoided the danger of being skewered. Coming back up, he used a chopping motion, slamming his faithful blade against the leader's arm, forcing the man to drop his lance. The knight fumbled to draw his own sword, only to have his life cut short when Lucian ran his blade through the man's exposed throat.

  His men fought ferociously side by side until more knights rode into the view, racing to join the fight. Lucian signaled for Derrick to close ranks, crying out when he felt the burning agony of a sword tip pierce his left shoulder. The lucky blade found his flesh through the weaker chinks of his chain mail. Snarling, he brought his shield up in time to see an arrow bury deep in the attacking knight's armored chest.

  Lucian whipped his head around in surprise. More arrows followed, cutting down the unknown knights, saving him and his men who hurriedly backed out of the way. In a short span of time, the forest was abruptly cast into silence, broken by the sound of fleeing hooves. For a long, drawn out moment, Lucian thought he was seeing things when he noticed nine shadows part from the tall, imposing trees bearing thick foliage of brown leaves.

  The unknown bowmen remained alert, their long Welsh bows held by firm grips, arrows notched and ready to fire. Some were clad in soft, dyed black deer-skin tunics and hose, while others wore various shades of green and brown. All had their heads covered by leather hoods with eye holes cut out for vision. Unconcerned about his own safety, Lucian pressed a cloth to his bleeding shoulder, watching the thieves strip the dead of their monies and jewels. Derrick, obviously ready to stop them, halted when Lucian shook his head.

  "They have graciously saved our lives. Let them take their reward from yonder scoundrels who dared attack us without honor."

  * * * *

  Eiry remained in the shadows, eyes widening at the word ‘honor'. Her father was an honorable man, dead alongside her mother by the hands of those who felt no such boundaries. The bold knight spoke of ideas long dead and gone since Richard abandoned England to war upon the so-called Infidels.

  Resting the tip of the beautifully handcrafted bow on the hard ground, she leaned her weight to it, trusting the strength of the weapon which had saved her life on many occasions. There was something oddly familiar about the leader's shield, leaving her to feel she should know him. Over his chain mail he wore a plain black tunic and matching woolen hose, appearing to be a lowly knight, if not for his banner held by a broad-shouldered squire. The flying gold falcon on a blood red background seemed familiar. But where had she seen it before? Her memory jarred when the man fully faced her. Hard, soulless, black eyes turned in her direction, the unmistakable white scar she now recognized.

  The Butcher of Acre!

  Christ Jesu, I must be insane to have hired a killer, Eiry thought wildly.

  Reason kicked in as the big man calmly tried to staunch the blood flowing from the wound in his left shoulder. She needed the powerful Norman's merciless reputation and the use of his deadly sword to stop her enemies from taking Sanctuary away from them. Perhaps they might even flush out the men responsible for killing her parents. Her fondest dream was to return the murderous gesture upon the bastard responsible for taking her world away when he killed her parents.

  Taking a long look at the knight, she thought Lucian Martine did not appear the Devil incarnate. His scar did not distract from his savage beauty but rather gave him a roguish demeanor. She knew firsthand what evil did to men, having come face to face with it on many occasions since taking up the hood of an outlaw.

  The most perverse and treacherous man in
Derbyshire was the sheriff, Robert De Ferrers, also the local tax collector. Lord Robert, Prince John's most trusted official, was dedicated in wringing every bit of wealth out of the poor whether it came from their pockets or their flesh.

  No one withstood his reign of terror without first learning the dire consequences, or in most cases never attempted to put a halt to it. In fact, most of the wealthy families residing about Derbyshire seemed to prosper from Lord Robert's thieving presence. Since Robert took office, the poor and misfortunate had fallen into despair none of the people could remember suffering. The injustice dealt in Derbyshire was one of the many reasons why Eiry and her band of outlaws rebelled, helping the poor and needy. Ironic, she should be called outlaw when those who were the law committed outrageous acts of transgression upon those they were sworn to protect.

  Martine's shoulder continued to bleed unchecked, causing the softer side of Eiry to react. Pulling her hood down over her face, she parted from the safety of the trees. Making her way to the intense-looking knight, she grew amazed at how magnificent his handsome visage became as she neared him. Her mouth went dry, her insides quivered strangely. Feeling relatively safe behind her hood, she made her wooden legs move, feeling not for the first time a heady sense of disorientation looking upon Lucian Martine. The warhorse blew through his wide nostrils, turning his great head toward her as she approached, distracting her from her thoughts.

  Martine's eyes widened when he became aware of her rounded breasts outlined by the tight fitting, brown leather tunic she wore. His hot gaze lingered over her breasts far longer than she cared. When he spoke, she tried not to react to the deep, sensual tone.

  "I presume you are Lady Thief?"

  Disguising her voice by using a thick, coarse English accent, Eiry asked, ignoring his question. “Sir Knight, where do you and your men journey?” Gifted with a soft, Welsh accent from her departed mother, she hid her identity whenever she donned the hood of an outlaw.

  "I and my men ride for a small holding east of Derbyshire called Sanctuary. Are you familiar with the castle?"

  Eiry found she could not draw a steady breath, a bad feeling coming over her. The man's deep, rumbling voice sent icy shivers down her spine. Could he really be the man she hired for their protection? She managed to choke out her question, “Why do you seek Sanctuary?"

  "I have personal business there. Did you know Sir Thomas Savoy?"

  By sheer will, she held back the rush of mournful tears at hearing her beloved father's name spoken. “We knew the lord of Castle Sanctuary. Many mourned Sir Thomas and Lady Rowena when they died. Many were devastated by their senseless murder.” Eiry squared her shoulders, concentrating on the business at hand.

  The hard lines around his pinched mouth tightened perceptibly. Martine glared down at the dead knights. “Any idea why those knights might want to stop me from reaching Sanctuary?"

  She felt as if she'd been punched in the stomach and worried. Why did those knights attack the Butcher, a man renowned for a particular lack of ethics? Steadying her trembling hand, she held out the clean cloth she'd retrieved from the leather quiver slung over her shoulder. The scowling knight accepted it for his blood had drenched the one he used.

  Deciding Martine should know what he was up against she told him what she'd learned. “Sir Thomas was granted the lands eight months ago from King Richard, the very same lands the Lord Sheriff, Robert De Ferrers, wanted. Local gossip has it Lord Robert began negotiations with Prince John to obtain Castle Sanctuary after Sir Thomas’ death. I believe, with your unexpected presence, you have just upset his plans to take possession of those same lands."

  "Interesting. I shall have to watch my step around the sheriff. Why were you out here?” he casually asked, arching a dark eyebrow.

  "Well, we're not here to take in the scenery,” she replied tartly. “Do not worry. You have my word, your monies are safe. We only rob rich merchants and nobles, the exception of yon knights dead before you.” Aware her men watched them talking, she could only guess they must think her mad for speaking to the Butcher of Acre.

  Martine turned his horse from her and inclined his head. “My thanks for coming to our aid. I shall remember your deed today. We must be on our way, fair thee well.” Urging his horse onward, the tall knight motioned for his men to join rank.

  Realization hit Eiry. She must race home before Lucian Martine arrived at Sanctuary, wanting to avoid explaining to the dark knight about who he really worked for. Otherwise, Martine might not stay if he discovered his gold was supplied by a thief trying to save her home from an evil, greedy sheriff and a bastard of a prince.

  Wasting no time, she ran back to their tethered horses, Louie was barely a stride behind her. They swung up on the restless horses. Angry, Louie rounded on her. “What was that all about? Do you realize we just saved the Butcher of Acre?"

  Eiry whipped off her hood and shook out the long, thick braid of chestnut-brown hair, the sun catching the gold glints in the silky strands.

  "While we waste time talking, Martine rides for Sanctuary! I don't want him talking to my sister without us there."

  She urged the spirited, blood bay mare into a fast gallop, using the dark, mysterious Peake Forest to reach home first and prepare for the Butcher's arrival.

  [Back to Table of Contents]

  Chapter Two

  When she'd returned from Wales, Eiry assumed the disguise of Lilia's maid. Lord be merciful if the sheriff ever found out about an eligible daughter who inherited Sanctuary upon her parents’ brutal murder. With ties to Prince John, Robert might ask the prince to force her to marry him by Royal Decree. Even now Robert rutted after her, trying his best to force her to his bed in exchange for leniency of taxes owed on the castle. When she stole enough gold to pay the taxes, Eiry foiled his plans, making him furious. The Sheriff informed her of his intent to ask Prince John for custodial rights to Lilia and Sanctuary. That was when Eiry made the decision to write to her godfather, William Pembroke.

  Their desperate situation boiled down to needing a man of noble birth, one not wanted by the law, to protect Sanctuary while she continued to steal. William wrote back suggesting she hire Sir Lucian Martine, son of a prominent duke from Normandy. Impressed with the Norman, William assured her Martine would protect her sister and Castle Sanctuary with his life. Of all the horror-filled stories William had heard about Lucian Martine, the one constant fact was the Norman never broke his oath.

  On the unfortunate side, she did not consult with her friends over what she planned, not even Louie. She knew they would object strenuously to another nobleman ruling over them after so many months of freedom, but there was no other choice. Their enemy was far more powerful than she first estimated. Eiry needed the feared Butcher to help them! When the stone wall protecting Sanctuary materialized from behind a stand of trees, her heart leapt with joy as it did every time she gazed upon her home. She loved the small, rundown castle more than she could put into words. Despite its rapid decline and the lack of funds to make any major repairs, the single-towered castle was the first and only home her family had ever owned. And by God, she was not going to let anyone take it from her without a fight. Fighting to keep Sanctuary was more than retaining a roof over their heads; it was a matter of making a stand for her beloved parents’ dream.

  Cutting through the orchard, they went around the castle's high wall, heading for the front entrance. The wide, wooden gate swung open, allowing the riders to enter. A boy still in his early teens quickly followed behind them. Dismounting, Eiry turned to see her golden-haired sister, barely turned eight, run out the castle's front door. Bending low, Eiry hugged her frail sister tight, worried at the severe change in the once vibrant child. Lilia had lost so much weight. Her youthful skin was translucent in the sunlight and dark circles shadowed her large, bright eyes of silvery-blue. The child was now a shadow of the hellion Eiry loved and adored. Where once she played games, Lilia prayed for hours on end.

  "Eiry, I thought you said
you'd be gone longer. What has happened?"

  "Lilia, there is a company of knights heading here.” Handing her horse's reins over to Louie, Eiry grabbed Lilia's hand in the other. “Louie, tell the men to get out of here. I will continue to be known as Lilia's maid until we know for sure if we can trust Martine. Heaven help us, I know naught if I made the right decision by hiring mercenaries, but we shall soon see. I know we should flee Sanctuary, but times are bad and we would not survive long."

  "Mercenaries?” Louie's freckled features paled at her words.

  "Eiry, do we have to lie? You know God hates liars,” Lilia whispered, her eyes cast worriedly at the darkening sky above.

  "The Lord will forgive my little lies. HE knows I must do so to keep us alive,” Eiry responded defiantly, heading inside the castle, Lilia on her heels.

  "Eiry, did you really hire mercenaries?” Lilia demanded as they hurried up the only stairs in the castle.

  "Yea, I did it for our protection."

  Chewing on her bottom lip, Lila looked askance at her. “Who is coming?"

  Eiry hesitated, her hand on the door knob leading to her chamber. “I hired the Butcher of Acre."

  Her sister's hand flew to her mouth and stared at Eiry as if she had just invited the Devil to dinner. “I know, Lilia, but I had no choice. William thought the knight the best choice to keep us safe from the Sheriff and his henchmen."

  Eiry opened the door and went inside and yanked off her boots, her shirt and hose following. Digging into the large, wooden trunk, she withdrew a simple brown dress and a white shift and dressed quickly. She undid the long braid, combing out the silky stuff until it fell past her waist.

  "Eiry, do you think the Butcher can keep us safe?” Her eyes were rounded in fear and worry.

  Squatting down, Eiry took her sister's small hands in hers. “Aye, I believe Martine can. Now, remember our story. I am your maid and housekeeper. It will explain why we don't have one, what with everyone gone and all.” She could have kicked herself in the shin as her sister's pale, heart-shaped face reddened and fresh tears flowed unchecked down her cheeks. Eiry held her tight in her arms. A shout from Louie alerted them of incoming riders.