Lady Thief
Page 25
“The gentility befitting her sex should be inalienable,” Winchester said.
“Don’t be silly,” the prince railed on. “I suppose you bow and scrape for peasant women too, Winchester?”
“My wife is no peasant,” Gisbourne said.
I frowned. Honestly, why bother piping up at all?
“No, of course not. She elevated you, in fact, didn’t she?” the prince crowed. My husband’s face went dark. Didn’t much think he liked to be reminded of that.
The far ends of the tables were still talking amongst themselves, but the closer bits were listening to the prince make sport of me. “But my prince,” someone spoke up. “Surely you must take deportment into account. If anything, dear Gisbourne has lowered himself by his association. It’s like mating with a wild animal.”
“And what should we take into account about a person that so lowers the conversation during such a lovely meal, my lord de Lacy?” the queen said.
“If you can call de Lacy a lord, my lady queen,” said another man.
“Lord enough to see you on the field, Wendeval!” de Lacy roared back at him.
“My dear mother,” the princess said. “You must forgive him. We are all so confused about what to do with such a curiosity in our midst. We have all heard such stories about her, and now it seems she cannot even muster the words to speak. You must understand how this lends a certain air of savagery.”
“And yet the court’s ability to discuss a young lady as if she were an object seems savage also,” the queen said. “Most unbecoming, Isabel.”
I saw the princess flush at this rebuke, and Gisbourne looked to her.
“My dear mother,” she tried again, “I only meant to allay his thoughtless words. I, of course, have been eager to get to know the lady Leaford and am eager to hear what must be such … colorful stories. In her own words.”
“Ah, yes, you do love a good story, Mother. Come, Lady Marian, regale us,” the prince sneered at me.
Gisbourne’s vengeful gaze settled on me, and I licked my lips, pressing them tight together. I pushed up my chin and clutched my hands tight. “I won’t perform for you,” I said, pushing the words careful through my teeth. God knows they weren’t natural on my mouth. “Perhaps you think me a fool, and who could blame you, as I sit here and listen to you call me a wild animal, a peasant. But I am wise enough to know when my words will only be met with derision and scorn.” I looked to the side a small bit. “So no, my prince, I would prefer not to regale you.”
My husband’s hand settled on mine, his fingers clawing in and cutting. I didn’t much dare to look at him, to breathe.
Out the edge of my eye I saw a pale face lean forward. Her blue eyes were bright, and there were a stark, harsh beauty to her face. Eleanor of Aquitaine inclined her head to me, and I flushed.
“Well said, my lady Marian,” she said.
Gisbourne released the bear clamp on my hand and I tucked my head down to the dowager queen.
Chapter Ten
When supper were over Gisbourne caught my elbow and held me in a fair wolf’s trap, dragging me out the hall, moving faster than the rest. It were a few twists and turns before we weren’t in a crowd, and he pushed me ahead.
“God damn you!” he growled. “You and your filthy, proud mouth! I will be made to pay for that, and by hell so will you.”
“I did what you asked!” I snapped. “I spoke well, didn’t I? I didn’t stab no one.”
He pushed me again and I tripped over the skirts, hitting the wall, and he slammed his whole body behind mine so it stole away my breath. I reached out to fight him, to grab my knife, but he trapped my arms. I struggled hard, fair panicked now, but it didn’t matter, didn’t make him move.
“I could take you, Marian,” he threatened low in my ear. He bit my neck and I shook and struggled more, trying to be free of him. I ain’t never felt so trapped, so weak. He had my name, and every moment more he were taking my courage from me. He were taking everything I had from me. “I could bind you to me forever with the duty a husband is entitled to from a wife. I could give you a scar to match your wedding present. I could beat you until you remember your place, your promise.” His teeth sank into my ear and I cried. “Pick one.”
“Is this what your honor means to you?” I asked, but my voice weren’t much there and shaking besides. “Will this make you feel bigger in the eyes of the prince?” I drew a breath. “Or is it the princess you want to impress?”
His hand slammed the wall beside my head and he roared, “Pick one!”
Moving his hand meant he let go a bare shadow of a bit, but it were all I needed. I jerked out from him and pulled my knife. He stopped himself quick when he saw it, and his eyes went narrow.
Good. If all I had were his fear of a blade in my hand, that were enough.
Voices rose up in the hall behind him, and Gisbourne turned.
I ran for the nearest window, ready to fling myself out if need be.
It weren’t needed to fling. Gisbourne were at least a few moments behind, and I climbed out on the ledge and onto the posts that stuck out the side of the wall. I hated that my hand meant I weren’t much good for climbing. I hated the skirts that twisted up my legs. A few shaky leaps more brought me over to a stone trough and I jumped onto that and down.
I went for the wall and stood at the base of it, staring up. It were high and I were already weak, the shivers that Gisbourne started not nearly out of me yet.
“Don’t be silly,” the prince railed on. “I suppose you bow and scrape for peasant women too, Winchester?”
“My wife is no peasant,” Gisbourne said.
I frowned. Honestly, why bother piping up at all?
“No, of course not. She elevated you, in fact, didn’t she?” the prince crowed. My husband’s face went dark. Didn’t much think he liked to be reminded of that.
The far ends of the tables were still talking amongst themselves, but the closer bits were listening to the prince make sport of me. “But my prince,” someone spoke up. “Surely you must take deportment into account. If anything, dear Gisbourne has lowered himself by his association. It’s like mating with a wild animal.”
“And what should we take into account about a person that so lowers the conversation during such a lovely meal, my lord de Lacy?” the queen said.
“If you can call de Lacy a lord, my lady queen,” said another man.
“Lord enough to see you on the field, Wendeval!” de Lacy roared back at him.
“My dear mother,” the princess said. “You must forgive him. We are all so confused about what to do with such a curiosity in our midst. We have all heard such stories about her, and now it seems she cannot even muster the words to speak. You must understand how this lends a certain air of savagery.”
“And yet the court’s ability to discuss a young lady as if she were an object seems savage also,” the queen said. “Most unbecoming, Isabel.”
I saw the princess flush at this rebuke, and Gisbourne looked to her.
“My dear mother,” she tried again, “I only meant to allay his thoughtless words. I, of course, have been eager to get to know the lady Leaford and am eager to hear what must be such … colorful stories. In her own words.”
“Ah, yes, you do love a good story, Mother. Come, Lady Marian, regale us,” the prince sneered at me.
Gisbourne’s vengeful gaze settled on me, and I licked my lips, pressing them tight together. I pushed up my chin and clutched my hands tight. “I won’t perform for you,” I said, pushing the words careful through my teeth. God knows they weren’t natural on my mouth. “Perhaps you think me a fool, and who could blame you, as I sit here and listen to you call me a wild animal, a peasant. But I am wise enough to know when my words will only be met with derision and scorn.” I looked to the side a small bit. “So no, my prince, I would prefer not to regale you.”
My husband’s hand settled on mine, his fingers clawing in and cutting. I didn’t much dare to look at him, to breathe.
Out the edge of my eye I saw a pale face lean forward. Her blue eyes were bright, and there were a stark, harsh beauty to her face. Eleanor of Aquitaine inclined her head to me, and I flushed.
“Well said, my lady Marian,” she said.
Gisbourne released the bear clamp on my hand and I tucked my head down to the dowager queen.
Chapter Ten
When supper were over Gisbourne caught my elbow and held me in a fair wolf’s trap, dragging me out the hall, moving faster than the rest. It were a few twists and turns before we weren’t in a crowd, and he pushed me ahead.
“God damn you!” he growled. “You and your filthy, proud mouth! I will be made to pay for that, and by hell so will you.”
“I did what you asked!” I snapped. “I spoke well, didn’t I? I didn’t stab no one.”
He pushed me again and I tripped over the skirts, hitting the wall, and he slammed his whole body behind mine so it stole away my breath. I reached out to fight him, to grab my knife, but he trapped my arms. I struggled hard, fair panicked now, but it didn’t matter, didn’t make him move.
“I could take you, Marian,” he threatened low in my ear. He bit my neck and I shook and struggled more, trying to be free of him. I ain’t never felt so trapped, so weak. He had my name, and every moment more he were taking my courage from me. He were taking everything I had from me. “I could bind you to me forever with the duty a husband is entitled to from a wife. I could give you a scar to match your wedding present. I could beat you until you remember your place, your promise.” His teeth sank into my ear and I cried. “Pick one.”
“Is this what your honor means to you?” I asked, but my voice weren’t much there and shaking besides. “Will this make you feel bigger in the eyes of the prince?” I drew a breath. “Or is it the princess you want to impress?”
His hand slammed the wall beside my head and he roared, “Pick one!”
Moving his hand meant he let go a bare shadow of a bit, but it were all I needed. I jerked out from him and pulled my knife. He stopped himself quick when he saw it, and his eyes went narrow.
Good. If all I had were his fear of a blade in my hand, that were enough.
Voices rose up in the hall behind him, and Gisbourne turned.
I ran for the nearest window, ready to fling myself out if need be.
It weren’t needed to fling. Gisbourne were at least a few moments behind, and I climbed out on the ledge and onto the posts that stuck out the side of the wall. I hated that my hand meant I weren’t much good for climbing. I hated the skirts that twisted up my legs. A few shaky leaps more brought me over to a stone trough and I jumped onto that and down.
I went for the wall and stood at the base of it, staring up. It were high and I were already weak, the shivers that Gisbourne started not nearly out of me yet.
