Lady Thief - By Rizzo Rosko Page 0,5

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