Lady Thief

  For my dad

  Thank you for giving me the opportunities, love, and support to make an unlikely career out of something I love. I never could have done this without you.

  I love you.

  Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Acknowledgments

  Also by A. C. Gaughen

  Chapter One

  The fire breathed, the dying embers flaring and cooling in a hot pulse. I watched the cold black creep over the orange. The fire were going out.

  The cold never worried me overmuch. We slept in the warming room of the monastery, and with plenty of blankets and a well-tended fire, a body never got too cold. I could see Much’s head curled over his knees, his body in a ball nearest to the fire. His arm that were missing a hand were tucked in tight, like he were trying to protect the thing that had been taken from him so long ago. John sprawled out farthest away from the fire, laid flat on his back like he’d fallen down drunk. None of the fights, the battles, the trials ever seemed to pierce through him and leave holes behind like they did the rest of us.

  A bare foot away, Rob lay nearest me. Always near, always far. He slept on his stomach now, and he never used to. It weren’t many months since the now-dead sheriff had tortured him, laying him on a board fitted with spikes until they pressed through his flesh and tore. The holes on his back had been slow to heal, and the pains and infections they caused went so much deeper than his skin.

  The embers went black, and then edges of gray started to emerge, and the light shrank full out of the room.

  I never knew when it would happen. But it would happen. Few nights since the snows had forced us into the monastery were restful.

  The noises came first—soft swishes. Thumps. Low gasps. I shut my eyes against it.

  At the first yell, I sat up, moving close. My heart were too big in my chest, tight and hot and painful, and I felt water push behind my eyes. “Rob,” I whispered, scared to touch him.

  He yelled loud.

  Pressing my lips hard together, sucking back my fear, I touched his head, stroking his hair, wishing each touch of my fingers could weave peace into him, like a spell.

  His big shoulders eased, and he took a breath, still slumbering.

  My chest didn’t feel as tight but the tears weren’t far gone, and I lay down beside him, still threading my fingers in his sand-gold hair. I pushed my head against his.

  Breath and sleep came easier both, and my eyes started to slip down. I let them, unafraid. Tonight wouldn’t be one of the bad nights.

  I weren’t sure if it were half a breath or most of an hour later, but I woke as Rob shoved me off him, hard. I rolled on the stone, and a moment later he were on top of me, his hands wrapped around my throat.

  I couldn’t see him in the dark. I couldn’t see his ocean eyes, and it were too close to my every nightmare of Gisbourne. I clawed at his hands and tried to yell but it came out a cough.

  “Robin!” John roared, and I could bare see his steel-roped arm come round Rob’s neck, hauling him off. Rob’s hands pulled me up till he let go, and I fell to the ground. The room filled with light as Much flared a candle, his face fair white even in the yellow glow.

  Tears ran slick on my face, and I pushed them off fair quick before Rob could catch it.

  Rob slumped against the wall, his chest heaving with breath, his hands pressed against his face. John stood above him, keeping him from me.

  I scrabbled over on my knees, going round John and kneeling between Rob’s spread legs. “Scarlet,” John grunted at me.

  I paid him no mind as I pushed Rob’s hands off his face. He were flushed, his eyes wild. “You …,” he whispered, clutching my sides, squeezing me so tight it pinched. His head fell on my chest, and he were breathing into the space between us like it were the only bit with air.

  “Much,” I said, turning a little. Him and John were just standing, frozen, watching. Not one of us knew what to do for Rob. “Give me the candle. You lot can go back to sleep.”

  Much did, even as John stood still.

  Rob lifted his head, still touching me. “I’m all right,” he said to John, his voice rough. “I won’t … I’m not a danger to her.” His fingers dug into my skin, and it felt like he were trying to crush me, make me shatter under his hands like an eggshell. A breath later, his fingers went gentle.

  John nodded slow and wary, looking at me and turning back to his bedroll. It weren’t a full moment after that Rob’s hands uncurled from my skin and fell from me.

  I stayed still, something stuck in my pipes that I couldn’t swallow down. He weren’t breathing as hard, and I reckoned that must have been a fair good sign.

  His hands caught my hips again, but he didn’t pull me near like I thought he might. He pushed, gentle, moving me away from him.

  He stood, and without a word, he went to the door. He swung it open and the rush of cold air were like a slap.

  John looked at me, but I just shoved into my boots and grabbed up an armful of Rob’s things before going outside.

  Rob were striding down the cloisters, and I ran to catch up with him.

  I threw his boots down at his bare feet. “Don’t run away from me,” I snapped.

  “Don’t?” he growled. He bent over and shoved one boot vengeful on his foot. “I could have killed you, Scar!” he yelled. He put the other boot on and stayed bent over, crouching down low. “I could have killed you,” he said again.

  I sat on the snow-dusted stone, stretching my legs out and leaning against one of the stone pillars of the archway. “You didn’t,” I said, handing him a cloak. He stared at it. “Put it on. Anger may feel warm but it ain’t going to keep you from falling sick again.”

  Rob’s jaw rolled with muscle. “I didn’t fall sick,” he snarled, swinging the cloak round his shoulders and sitting on the ground across from me. “I was laid on a board with spikes on it, and I felt it as each one pushed through my skin. And those gaping holes didn’t quite heal right, did they?”

  My knuckles were rubbing over my cheek before I knew what I were about. He weren’t the only one that Gisbourne and the sheriff had left marks on. The new scar I’d gotten for marrying Gisbourne to save Rob’s life were harder than the last, like something were stuck deep inside it. It were longer too. “They never do.”

  He let a moment pass. “I don’t want you out here.”

  “Yes, you do.”

  “You need sleep.”

  I just huffed at that.

  “You’ll freeze,” he said.

  “I like the cold,” I said, tucking my cloak tighter around me anyway. He opened his mouth to try and shake me off again, so I asked the one thing I knew would hush him. “What do you dream of, Rob?”

  He glared at me, but his eyes fluttered shut and he shook his head.

  I rested my leg against his. He breathed a deep sigh, but his leg eased into mine.

  We didn’t talk more. We stayed quiet and wakeful in the cloisters till we were half-froze, until the sun came up and the monks walked their silent ways an
d I wondered if God were making Rob pay for his sins or just my own.

  Chapter Two

  John kicked my boot, and I jerked. It weren’t like I’d been sleeping, just tucked inside a half-frozen stillness that had settled down on my skin. Rob kicked him back for it, and John stepped free. “You really want to take me on, Rob?” he asked. John were smiling, but he were standing between me and Rob again.

  “Not at the moment,” Rob allowed, standing and pulling me up, going round John to do it. He held me a moment, his hands on my arms, his face glowing heat onto mine.

  John looked over his shoulder at us.

  “Don’t want to be late,” Much said.

  Rob let me go and I glared at Much. It weren’t like me and Rob had more than our share of soft moments.

  “What?” Much asked me, but I shook my head. The boy had less sense than a wooden post sometimes.

  Rob led the way, and I followed behind him, with Much behind me and John at the flank. The winter forest were different for us; the snow covered the ground and made everything in the forest a lie, a trick. Holes were covered over, once-strong branches were brittle and weak. Everything looked beautiful and clear, like the world were at peace, but what it really meant was not a thing could live upon its frightful cold.

  Not even me, and I were a creature meant for no warmth, no sun, no light. The winter forest wouldn’t hide me in its branches, weren’t strong enough for me to run along the trees, and it made me stand out against its snow.

  My forest had turned on me.

  The closer we got to Edwinstowe, the more the thing turned into a dance. In the winter forest, you could see farther than were fair good for a thief or her friends, so each step forward were a step to the side, stepping close to a tree to blend dark clothes to dark wood.

  On the edge of Edwinstowe, the others stayed against the trees while I moved forward. I were still the best at this part, moving silent and unseen through a place. I taught the others what I could, but there weren’t no teaching the shadows to welcome you in.

  I stole through the rough rows of houses to the well in the center of town. I waited on the side of the nearest house, listening.

  Their heavy footfalls were loud enough to announce them from far off. The knights strode through the town, the lane empty but for them. The villagers had learned to stay well below their notice; the knights were wont to take whatever they pleased.

  I heard a door open in the quiet, and the footfalls stopped. “Sirs,” said a breathlike voice, so oversoft I couldn’t tell who spoke.

  “Miss,” the two returned.

  “Why, I was just headed to the well for some water,” the voice purred out.

  “Allow us to help.”

  Quick moments passed before the two knights appeared, one holding a pail and the other holding the arm of Agatha Morgan, Mistress Morgan’s redheaded eldest child. The first knight hooked the pail onto the rope and set to lowering it while Aggie leaned back against the well, batting her pretty lashes up at the second knight.

  “How do the menfolk fare?” she asked sweet. “My father is one of the men rebuilding the wall.”

  “Is he?” the knight asked. “I’ll ask for him and bring you news. The reconstruction goes well, and since we’ve come to town the vagabonds responsible for the destruction of the castle haven’t shown their faces.”

  “Good thing,” the first knight responded, heaving back to pull up the full pail. “We’d show them what a few good English knights can do to lawless rebels.”

  “Is it true the king himself ordered you to come look after us?” she asked.

  “King’s away,” the first knight reminded her. He weren’t quite noticing her game.

  The second knight knew what she were about, and she arched her back from the well. He grinned. “The prince sent us. The castle, the wood, and the whole county falls back to his care without a sheriff. And we promised to take very good care of it in his absence.” He stepped closer to Aggie, looking shameless at her chest as she smiled at him. “Have you good ladies missed having your men about?” he asked.

  It were meant to sound saucy, I’m sure, but it were all I could do not to spit. Honestly, all the knights were pigs and Aggie were a damn fool. Not many women in Nottinghamshire—specially the married ones without their husbands—had slept peaceful and safe with their men forced to work for the Crown. And Aggie may have giggled when he touched her, running his hand up her arm, but I stepped forward.

  “Morning, Aggie,” I called. “Sirs.”

  Aggie’s face dropped, and her body fell back against the well. She crossed her arms. “Imagine meeting you here.”

  The second knight took in Aggie’s change and turned back to me, sauntering closer. “Why aren’t you at the wall, lad? All able-bodied men were called—even small, rather flimsy-looking ones.”

  “Oh, for Heaven’s sake, she’s a girl in pants.” Aggie pouted.

  The knight took new interest in me, looking me over. “Well I suppose that’s lucky. Look, one for each of us. I’ll even let you have the pretty one.”

  Aggie looked wounded as the first knight put the pail down.

  “Don’t put your hands on her,” I warned him.

  The second knight grinned. “Jealous? I’ll keep you busy, pet. Though it looks like you’ve already had a man’s hands on you.” His eyes hooked on my neck.

  I put my hand over it, swallowing under the pain. I knew it were swollen, but it must have bruised up overnight.

  “I’m right glad Rob finally taught you a lesson,” Aggie told me with a sniff. “That’s what you get for being so meddlesome.”

  The mood changed quick, and the first knight grabbed Aggie’s arm. “Rob?” he asked. “Robin Hood?”

  “The vagabond?” the second knight said, and took quick steps toward me. I stepped to the side.

  Aggie had the sense to be sorry, even if it were late and little at that. “N-no,” Aggie lied quick. “Her husband. Robert of Gisbourne.”

  “Lord Gisbourne,” I snapped, and the knight halted his advance.

  The knight laughed. “There’s no way in hell you’re Lady Leaford.”

  His fellow coughed, though, and the second knight looked back to see the first one leaving Aggie be. “We should go.”

  “She isn’t Lady Leaford!” the second said.

  “Didn’t you hear any of the stories?” the first knight muttered to him. He shook his head and prodded his fellow farther down the lane.

  As the knights disappeared, Aggie stomped her foot and turned on me. I frowned at her, going to the well and tying a scarlet ribbon to the hook. “How could you?” she snapped. “How am I ever supposed to get a husband with you interfering?”

  “Go home, Aggie,” John said, coming from behind a house with the others. “Or I’ll tell your father what you’re angling for.”

  She crossed her arms. “Oh, I’ll tell him what you angled from me right back, John Little.”

  John frowned at her like he were losing patience. “Yes, Aggie, I’m sure you’re eager to tell your father that.”

  “Go,” Rob told her, bare glancing her way. “And don’t speak to Scar like that again, Agatha.”

  “I didn’t mean to let it slip—” she started.

  “No,” he said sharp. “You meant to be cruel to the girl who saved your father’s life. Who fed you when you were hungry. That’s what you meant. Go home, Agatha.”

  She turned heel and left, and Rob came close to me and let his fingers brush over mine. My heart caught the sunlight and tried to tuck it in so close I felt near to bursting. I beamed at him, remembering again—he loves me.

  He gave me a soft, small smile, but it blew off like smoke when his eyes dropped to my neck.

  Rob turned from me, my fingers going cold where they had been warm, and I pulled my collar up tight against the bruises.

  “Come on,” Rob told us, and we continued on to Lord Thoresby’s manor.

  Thoresby’s loyal guards let us pass unbot
hered, and we went to the barn. It were warmer in there, full of animals and horses and wide-open space in the middle. There were three little people waiting for us.

  Jack and Will Clarke came over to us, trailed by the littlest Morgan girl, Missy. She came and stood beside me, quiet, in a way that always made me want to tuck her under my coat. Jack went over to Rob and started yapping at him, and Will drifted slow to me.

  “Hullo, Scarlet,” he said.

  “Morning, Will.”

  His cheeks threw up a red flame, and he looked at me and then away. His small chest puffed with breath and he looked at me again, his face turning angry and sour. “Did someone hurt you?” he demanded, his voice loud. “Was it a knight? I’ll kill him! I’m a much better shot now!”

  At twelve, he weren’t much shorter than me, but I felt a need to kneel down. “No, no,” I told him quick. “My coat snagged on a tree and yanked me back, that were all.” I saw Rob turn away from me at the lie. “Besides, who would hurt me when you’re around to protect me?”

  He looked at me, very solemn, and said, “I’ll cut down the tree if you show me which one. And if it’s not too tall.”

  Trying to swallow my smile, I shook my head. “We can let the tree live.”

  The barn door opened, and a few more of the children and women from the town came in. Will went to his brother, and Rob slipped up beside me.

  “I hate to make you lie,” he whispered, his breath rushing over my ear and making shivers trickle down my spine like water.

  I shrugged. “I’m a liar. Besides, he wouldn’t understand.”

  “Are we supposed to understand?” John asked, glaring at Rob and not looking at me. “Because I don’t.”

  “Shut it, John,” I told him with a frown.

  “Will definitely wouldn’t. All he’d understand is someone that claims to love Scarlet is hurting her. He’d probably kill you, Rob,” John said, coming close. “Or happily die trying. I think the young man has a crush on Scar.”

  “You would know what that looks like, wouldn’t you, John?” Rob asked, his voice iron hard.