by Rizzo Rosko
“And, where is yer 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 ye would prefer some sort of payment for yer services then?"
She did not attempt to deny her intent, though there was no malice in her words. "'Tis the least ye could do for a woman who saved yer 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 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 ye awoke, and then who would believe that I had nothing to do with yer robbery—"
"When ye asked for 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. "Ye are not obligated to give me anything, nor am I entitled to anything. I was merely hoping that someone in yer position may be able to help me leave this." She waved her hand around, indicating the square hut.
Blaise thought about it. The scent of the stew called to his nose and his stomach twitched, but he put off eating from it. "Ye are correct. I do owe ye 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. 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 her food.
Still, she supposed she should feel grateful, but she would suppress 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 rocks on the road.
The ragged blanket Elizabeth had 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, and his fingers itched 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 ye 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 ye.”
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 from 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 muttered.
She looked at him. “What did ye 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. A fine neck it was, despite the filth. "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 ye should be wearing it now as ye 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 ye are wearing nothing at all beneath my blanket I foolishly assumed '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 ye come about a fine gown such as that? Considering yer situation and all, my lady, I find it unlikely ye had it made."
She glared at him. "'Twas a gift from my father to my mother, from before she stole herself away like she did."
"Yer 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 ye."
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 twittered around and 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 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 ye 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 ye to my family and explain how I came to know ye." He stopped abruptly to glare at her. "I will tell my father the manner in which ye saved my life, but no one else is to hear of it, am I understood?"
As if sensing the threat, she bobbed a minor curtsy. "Aye, milord."
***
Elizabeth could barely contain her excitement as Graystone came into view. ‘Twas 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, rising into the sky.
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 had 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 to Blaise 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. 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 ye attacked?" asked James, who sent Elizabeth cautious stares.
She did not bother herself with the Knight. Elizabeth’s attention was on Lord Blaise. 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, and with only the blanket to cover himself with, she was instantly aware of the firmness of his body.
"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 slight pause, and then most of the knights laughed at the meaning behind his words. Elizabeth flushed and ducked her head. Anger bubbled inside her. 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 middle. "Lord Blaise, yer 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 was forced to bite down on her lips to keep from shouting as the men laughed again, all of them shrugging off the fact that their lord was robbed so long as it was done while he was bedding a woman.
Although she was the filthier of the two of them, he was the swine.
"And as ye 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 travelling with some meagre 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 yer betrothed 'twas easy for me to enjoy yer attentions, Lord Blaise."
The knights stopped laughing. They all stared at Elizabeth with round eyes, including Blaise. He righted his features, squeezing her tighter to his side. "That is was, my sweet Eliza," Though he smiled, his eyes were dark, and he hissed her name as though it were cursed.
Elizabeth instantly regretted her mistake in presuming she could insinuate something such as that. 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.
"I am here."
Elizabeth spun at the sound of the commanding voice. An older man with blond hair with flecks of grey in it approached. Hic clothing was fine, his back straight, and face concerned. The men parted for him as he entered their circle.
Elizabeth inhaled sharply as she realized that this was Lord Gray.
A child of five or six ran at his lordship’s 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 ye?”
Blaise stroked the blond head. “Enjoying a pleasant walk.”
“Aye, too pleasant by the look of things.” Lord Gray said as he eyed his eldest son with curiosity.
Elizabeth looked at them side by side, and comparing height and hair and faces, well, ‘twas hard for her to imagine that this man was Blaise’s father. 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 nary accuse Blaise of appearing small, he almost appeared so 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 to
wards the older man. "Father, may I present Lady Eliza Hollow—”
“Elizabeth.” She corrected.
Blaise’s lips curled. “Elizabeth. My betrothed." He said the last part through clenched teeth, squeezing her hand as he did so. "Eliza, this is my father, Lord William Gray."
Elizabeth 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 had 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 ye?" 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 ye 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 ye 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.