by Rizzo Rosko
"Ah," Lady Gray raised her hand, silencing anything else that would have escaped Elizabeth's mouth before she took her hand and patted it. Elizabeth could hardly believe the woman who behaved so motherly towards her was so close in age to herself.
"I should tell ye that while growing up, I never had a nurse to teach me these things either. I learned as much as my brothers could teach before they passed on. Even then I never learned music, languages, or even sewing until Lady Anne took it upon herself to teach me."
"Lady Anne?"
"William's cousin, and mine now I suppose, but as ye can see, despite all the flaws I possessed, William fell in love with me."
"Had no choice in the matter, as I recall," Blaise muttered.
Elizabeth opened her mouth to ask about his meaning, but Marianne squeezed her hand and stole her attention again, smiling brightly as though she hadn't heard the insult Blaise uttered. Though it did appear to be a forced smile. "If ye need a tutor, then I'm certain Blaise will be a true gentleman and offer his services."
Blaise nearly teetered off of his stool with how hard he rocked on it to stand on his feet. "The devil I will!"
Again, Lady Gray pretended not to hear. "I am certain that by the beginning of the celebration ye shall be a lady to be admired." She forcefully shoved Elizabeth in Blaise's direction with more strength than a woman in her condition should possess.
She stumbled on her gown and landed in Blaise's chest. His hands clenched like iron shackles around her arms as he steadied her. Elizabeth turned her head up and met the complete displeasure on his face, as well as a dark glow under his tanned flesh.
Lady Marianne laughed as though she had not nearly injured her new lady in waiting. "I certainly shall not hold fault against ye for wishing to proceed straight away. Come find me when today's lesson ends!"
"Marianne!" Blaise roared, still squeezing Elizabeth's arms in his tight fingers.
While unsure if her eyes played tricks on her, Elizabeth thought she saw Blaise's orange hair blaze over his head in fiery indignation. 'Twould be fitting to be named after the flame that burned over his skull.
The lady ignored the furious call of her step-son and waddled out of the solar as quickly as her feet would take her. Olma, frightened of the display, followed her instead of opting to stay.
For the first time since she arrived at Graystone, Elizabeth found herself completely alone with the man she had rescued on that rainy road. He still held her close to his strong chest, as though unsure of what to do with her.
Elizabeth did not mind. She marvelled at the solid form of his body beneath his tunic and her fingers. When she had first laid eyes on it, she immediately knew of love and admiration for his handsome appearance. She was not a blind woman, but never would she have thought to feel such pleasure being held so tightly to him.
"Well, my sweet Eliza," he said, and Elizabeth turned her head up, lifting herself from her lustful thoughts and once again banishing the image of Blaise's broad shoulders, bare chest, strong legs, and long manhood in her hut.
He stared at her with one side of his lip curled and his nose scrunched, as though his current situation was somehow her fault. "I shall speak to my father, but because he allows Marianne every freedom she desires I doubt we shall escape this arrangement.”
She swallowed. “What do ye suggest, then, Lord Blaise?”
His lip did not curl, nor did any hint of amusement enter his eyes. “Shall we begin?"
She nodded. “By all means.”
Chapter Four
Blaise had been correct about his father. Damn, could he never count on the man to take his side in an argument? Before beginning the lesson, he dragged Eliza to where William was, inside the stables with the horses, hoping one last effort would get him out of the responsibility of tutoring her.
'Twas not to be, however. When Lord Gray learned that his beloved Marianne had put them together, he refused to pry them apart again.
"'Twill be difficult enough as it is convincing everyone who heard her declaration that we are betrothed, that we will not wed, if we are seen dancing together." Blaise snarled. He’d tried having Eliza speak, to force reason into him using that innocent smile of hers. William would not be moved.
“Eliza, wait for me outside.” Blaise did not take his eyes away from his father as he gave the command.
She lifted a brow at him before doing as he bid her. The door did not shut entirely behind her, and who knew if the servants were prying, so they kept their whispers small and scathing.
“‘Tis not my problem. Ye brought her here, ye can be the one to handle her.”
“I thought ye wished for me to take care around her? To be on my guard.” Blaise’s fists clenched as he hissed his argument.
William shrugged and pushed him towards the door. “‘Twould be best to do so with her closer to ye, do ye not agree? What better way to have her watched then have ye do it now that there is excuse enough to prevent her suspicion?”
Blaise opened his mouth to argue further until his father opened the door, forcefully shoved him out, and then slammed it on his nose.
Eliza stood with her back to the wall. She stared at him when he came out. Mild panic hollowed his insides at the thought that she may have heard their words. “Did ye hear any of what was said in there?”
She shook head. “Nay, but by yer angry expression I know ye did not convince yer father to have someone else teach me.”
He folded his arms and glared at her. “Aye, and now we will have to convince the rest of the castle that we are not betrothed.”
***
Despite the hurt in her chest that Blaise obviously wished to stay so far away from her, Elizabeth swallowed it and felt genuinely sorry that she ever jested about marriage. “Why do ye need to convince anyone at all? Ye are lord. Simply say ‘twas a jest and they will have to believe ye.”
“‘Tis not that simple. Some of them will believe my word because I am lord, but for the other knights, some of whom I have trained with since I was a lad, ‘twould be a fantastic story for them to pass around at my expense for years to come. That I could ever wed a peasant girl…”
The fact that he uttered the last part, trailing off as though it were some foul fate, made Eliza’s anger surge up. “I am not a peasant girl. I am a lady.”
Blaise rolled his eyes and shook his head. Grumbling to himself so that she could not hear, he took her hand and yanked her all the way to the Great Hall. Upon entering with a slam of the doors he called out a command to all the servants and sewing maids to leave. They looked amongst themselves with confusion before rising from their tasks and doing as they were told. As the last girl left, Marianne still felt entirely too alone with Blaise, as angry as he was.
"Come, Eliza," Blaise called as he moved to the center of the hall. "If we are to do this then it shall be away from prying eyes."
Elizabeth swallowed and did as he bid of her. His hand flew out to grab hers, and he positioned her so that she stood before him, ready and waiting for his instructions.
His grip on her pained her. She yanked her hands away, uncaring for the shock on his face. "Ye can be gentle with me. I am not made of rock."
He glanced down at her hands, then back up to her face as quickly as a hummingbird. He cleared his throat. "Forgive me, I intended no harm."
She did not believe him. "Ye treat me as though I were a partner in yer swordplay."
His blue eyes flashed and he spoke through his teeth. "As I said, I offer my apologies." He offered her his hand instead of reaching out to take hers.
Elizabeth's entire body seemed to hesitate. She wished dearly to reach out and take his hand, to make the animosity between them vanish, but she knew 'twould take more than that.
Blaise's face softened. All traces of his displeasure vanished like a wisp of cloud in the wind, replaced with an eagerness to be accepted by her. "Please, Eliza."
The word please made her move. She put her hand into his and allowed him to
position her again. Unlike before, whenever he gripped her hand to the point of causing a heated pain to burn in her fingers, the heat appeared again in his gentle clasp. Odd.
She tried to push it away. She wanted him to befriend her, to believe her to be a respectable woman, not an insatiable dog. "Ye should know, I do not like being called Eliza."
His lips turned up. "Is that so?"
She nodded. "Aye, 'tis not a respectable name. I had a difficult time as it was convincing my mother not to call me Beth."
That amused little smirk never left his lips. "Ye poor creature."
He was not taking her seriously! She clutched her nails into his hand, not realizing she had done so until he winced.
She pulled her nails from his hand. "Forgive me."
He grumbled. "There are no drums or lutes so we will have to go without them." His hand slid around her waist. "This is likely to be one of the dances ye shall dance, so I will teach it first.”
Elizabeth fought the rising heat in her body as her midsection was pulled to his until they nearly touched. She stood so close she could feel the warmth of his body pulsing from him.
He did not seem to notice. “Most other proper dances consist of many other people, so I will not be able to show ye them, but tell ye the steps and hope ye do not make a fool of yerself and stumble over yer gown."
Elizabeth's face burned. He was discussing how she fell into his chest when his step mother pushed her. "I will do my best to make the most of yer teaching."
"I hope ye will. I am not a nurse, I should not be the one to teach ye manners." He grumbled again. "If Marianne believes I will teach ye sewing she is a madwoman."
"I know how to sew." Curiosity overcame her need to argue. "Ye seem to be quite hostile towards her. May I ask why?"
"I am not hostile towards her. 'Tis simply how we behave around one another."
"'Tis a strange relationship ye have," she said.
Blaise positioned her, took her hand and gripped her shoulder before forcefully spinning her. Elizabeth caught herself on the first spin, and before she could scold him for doing such a thing his hands were on her waist and she was thrust into the air.
Elizabeth shrieked, then laughed when her feet were planted safely back on the floor. "Again! Again!" She cried, taking Blaise's hand and spinning freely this time when prompted. She jumped a bit when his hands touched her waist to help him lift her into the air, delighting at the lack of floor beneath her feet and the rush that came with it.
She couldn't stop her laughter. "I love dancing!"
"I never much enjoyed it."
"What!" He was lying. 'Twas not possible any man or woman could not enjoy what he had just done to her. "I think ye are mad, milord."
His playful grin returned. "Perhaps the reason for this is that my partners were never as enthusiastic as yerself, and while dancing in groups I always felt like a fool."
"Ah, but I would wager ye were the most graceful man on the floor."
"Grace has naught to do with my lack of appreciation for dance, 'tis simply not what I would do for enjoyment. However, since this is not about my questionable dancing, but yers, shall we return to the lesson?"
He held his hand out for her to take. Elizabeth slipped her smaller hand into his rougher one freely.
***
Eliza's laughter and joyous smiles were enough to make Blaise reconsider his position on dancing. Never had any of his partners been so happily thrust into the air, or spun, or held. Most ladies he’d danced with moved as though dancing were a chore rather than a pleasure, their faces grim as they went about the steps. To them, ‘twas merely a way for them to speak to and be held by the heir of Graystone, hoping that, if they were successful, they might snare him into a marriage.
Their ideals must have latched onto him like a disease, because with Eliza shrieking and giggling like she was, Blaise could think of naught else that was worth his time.
He thrust her into the air again, higher this time. She screamed like a child enjoying her play too much. She pulled back as though meaning to step away from him, but with both their hands held she yanked herself back so they were chest to chest.
Stupidity claimed him when her breasts pressed against him. Blaise abruptly forgot what they were doing as the smooth angles of her face were close enough that he could see every detail. Her skin was not flawless by any means, nay, the life she lived would have made that impossible. Still, ‘twas pale and lovely regardless. He swallowed heavily. With their close proximity, so much as tilting his head would bring her lips to his, or even any part of her skin that might be kissed.
Eliza seemed unaware of her power over him, and she positioned his hands against her waist so that she might be thrust into the air again. Blaise shook himself, regaining control, and did as she bid, returning to the simple enjoyment of their awkward dance.
No longer were these the spins and thrusts of the dances she would be dancing when Marianne's celebration occurred. He should be teaching her the proper steps, and she would certainly make a fool of herself if she attempted dancing with her partner in this manner, but he could not refuse her.
Blaise lifted her again, and she slapped his arm in the midst of the leap. Tears streaked her cheeks but her face remained lit with happiness. "Nay, cease! I can take no more."
Blaise returned her to the floor. His insides warmed as she continued to giggle and glance at him with those bright eyes. Her happiness latched onto him and demanded his spirits be uplifted as she wobbled on her feet.
That he could be the one to bring her such joy made him smile. "I am to understand that ye enjoy dancing? Even with the lack of other partners and music?"
She shook her head, wiping the last of the tears from her eyes. "'Tis of no consequence if there is no music or people, I adore dancing. From this day forward we must dance everyday."
Blaise’s blood halted in his veins. Surely she must have made the demand of him without thinking. He would do no such thing. "Dancing is usually done at celebrations, with other guests present to enjoy it."
Her face became curious. "Does Lady Gray hold many celebrations?"
He shrugged. "A good amount, I suppose. I never paid them much heed."
Eliza nodded, her face bare of the joy that had been there moments ago. "'Tis understandable, perhaps as dancing is not to be done on a daily basis, 'tis something I can never grow weary of, like ye seemed to have done."
He raised a brow at her. "Ye believe ye shall stay long enough to see more than one celebration?"
Her back stiffened. She clasped her hands in front of her. "I was under the impression I would."
Blaise shrugged. A cold frost built in his chest where it had once been warm and pleasant. He ignored Eliza's hurt expression, reminding himself she was the daughter of an enemy and might be seeking revenge. Even if that were not the case, she was still the daughter of a poverty stricken prostitute and could truly be after his father’s wealth. Two possible options, and neither of which were pleasant.
"'Tis true, ye are free to stay. However, it does not mean that should ye ever be caught misbehaving, stealing, or in a lie, that ye are loved enough to have those offences overlooked."
"Ye will never catch me doing such things." Eliza muttered.
Blaise's curiosity peaked. What could she be hiding?
Surely there was something. All women had their secrets, if he was to go by the example of his mother, who had a secret affair with a servant, and Marianne, who had secretly set out to kidnap herself a husband. What did his little Eliza hide from him? He would discover the answer, but not now.
He reached out and snatched her hand, bringing it to his lips for a kiss that was meant to be apologetic. He delighted at the color in her neck and cheeks brought on by his lips. "I meant no harm and made no accusations. I was merely pointing out the hazards of those actions."
She nodded, though she did not appear satisfied with his claim. Her smile did not return, and the air between them grew st
ale as Eliza stole her hands back, scratched them, and glanced away.
She obviously wished to speak. Impatient to hear it already instead of watching her cower before him, Blaise nearly yelled that she should spit it out when she beat him to it.
"Lord Blaise?"
"Aye?" He prompted.
She seemed to fight to keep their eyes connected. "Is yer suspicion of me...that is to say...do ye not like me because of my father?"
He hadn't expected the question. "What?"
"Earlier today, ye and yer family spoke of my father, and how Lady Gray seemed to hold him in no fine regard. Is that why ye are suspicious of me?"
Anger flared inside him. "Have ye been spying?"
Her shoulders stiffened. "I had been walking with Olma to meet ye and yer mother and happened to hear voices at the door."
“So ye listened?”
She nodded, shocking him with her honesty.
He folded his arms. “That is the same as spying, ye naive fool.”
Her face paled. “I...forgive me. ‘Twill never happen again.”
He nodded. “Nay, it shall not.”
Her eyes tentatively found his. She wet her lips and clasped her hands. “About my father ...”
He clenched his jaw. He should have known the little fool would not leave all alone. “Did yer mother not explain what sort of man Ferdinand was?”
Her cheeks heated. “Aye, but she only said that he was a cruel sort whom she disliked.”
Blaise lifted a brow. “I take it ye did not believe her?”
She seemed to have difficulty keeping her eyes on his. “How could I? When she never told me why, or what he did. All I knew was that we were starving, and men, who were cruel and vicious, used her, sometimes until they bruised her, or even without paying, and she allowed it.” Her fists clenched, voice hissed, and body tightened as she spoke. Blaise could see the memory upset her.
Collecting herself, Eliza’s shoulders slumped, fingers released from their fist, and voice softened. She did not look at Blaise. “I always wondered what could have been so horrible that she would do that to herself, and to me.”