Lady Deception

by Rizzo Rosko

  Lady Deception

  Rizzo Rosko

  She would do anything for the money.

  Though Elizabeth Holton is the daughter of a wealthy knight, she was raised in poverty after her mother ran away before she was born. ‘For your protection,’ she would say, but Eliza’s mother had to sell her body to cruel men to provide for her daughter.

  After her death, Eliza made up her mind to become the lady she believes herself to be. She arranged for the local lord’s son to have an accident while out riding. But the men she hired were too severe. Instead of merely robbing Blaise Gray, they beat him and left him for dead.

  Except fall in love.

  For saving his life, Eliza is brought to live in Blaise’s castle where she fights her attraction to him, terrified of the pain she will feel should he discover it was her who nearly ended his life.

  Though Blaise cannot deny his heated lust for the beautiful peasant girl who saved his life, he also cannot halt his suspicion that she may have had something to do with his attack. It wouldn’t have been the first time someone from the lower class attempted to use him, yet he finds himself falling in love with her anyway. But the confirmation that she had nearly killed him to become a lady could be his undoing.

  Lady Deception

  By Rizzo Rosko

  Published By Rizzo Rosko for Amazon Kindle

  Copyright 2011 Rizzo Rosko

  Discover more books by Rizzo Rosko at her website www.rizzorosko.com

  Cover art done by Kimberly Killion at Hot Damn Designs

  Medieval Romance

  Visit me for more books and free reads at Rizzorosko.com

  Smashwords Edition, License Notes

  Thank you for downloading this ebook. You are welcome to share it with your friends. This book may be reproduced, copied and distributed for non-commercial purposes, provided the book remains in its complete original form. If you enjoyed this book, please return to Smashwords.com to discover other works by this author. Thank you for your support

  This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this story are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Lady Deception

  Rizzo Rosko

  Dedication

  Again, for my mom, for loving this one so much

  Chapter One

  Hampshire

  Summer, 1318

  Elizabeth attempted to halt her rushing feet. She slid in the muck and tripped over them instead. Her body fell flat in the mud which splashed up her gown, caking her legs, chest, and face in the sludge that horses tread and shit on.

  She struggled to lift herself out of the clinging, wet dirt, but only made it as far as her hands and knees. She threw off her hood in spite of the heavy rain, and gaped at the image that shocked her into halting in the first place.

  There was a naked man in front of her.

  His body did not so much as twitch to give her proof of life as he lay face down in the middle of the road. There was no sign of a horse, nor any small item that could have belonged to him. He had been robbed.

  Elizabeth struggled against the mud to pull herself to him. She crawled as her feet slid for purchase in the slop, but her skirt, heavy with muck and rain, hampered her.

  His face lay half inside a rain puddle that grew and filled with every heavy raindrop that spattered inside, filling the pool and endangering him. If he did not wake on his own his fate would be sealed. He would drown if she left him like this. Elizabeth gave up on her feet and pulled herself to him with her arms.

  ‘Twas easy with the slime-like quality of the muck. She reached his still form, took his large shoulder and pulled hard until he lay on his back and out of danger from inhaling the brown water.

  ‘Twas no easy task, and she was out of breath from the effort. He was a large man, well muscled, and much larger than Elizabeth. Though he was helpless in his current state, she was still in awe of him.

  The dirt that darkened his face washed away in the warm rain, revealing a square jaw, prominent brows and cheekbones, and a nose with only a slight crook in it. No bruise marred his perfect features.

  "How did this happen?" She asked before deciding the answer may lie beneath his mud caked hair.

  Her hand hesitated before gently moving forward. She probed her fingers through the rough string. Mud and rocks slipped away with the intrusion until she found what she searched for.

  A lump the size of a robin’s egg sat stiffly on the back of his head, it cracked open like an egg as well, despite her attempt to be gentle, trickling blood into her curious fingers.

  She shook her head, terror filling her gut as she searched for anything he might posses, anything she had missed that the wretched band of thieves may have left behind. A horse could take her to the nearest village where she could sell it for medicine. Surely he would not mind in his condition.

  She held back a sob as the bending trees, the sloppy road, and some leaves swirling in the whistling wind crushed her prayers. "Those brutes. Evil son's of swine."

  Elizabeth stared down at the man in her arms, who did not stir at the sound of her black tongue. Her small body provided him with no protection against the weather and her helplessness engulfed her.

  If she left him here he would surely die, yet, she had naught with which to carry him back to shelter with, no cart, no horse, not even a mule.

  Elizabeth ran her finger through his orange hair. She could not leave him to this monstrous fate. She would not have the blood of a man resting on her soul because a group of foolish men had to excite themselves by taking their games too far.

  Elizabeth threw off her cloak. The rain soaked through the thin material long ago, making it useless to dry him, but it could spare the man's dignity well enough. Perhaps when he awoke and discovered that she had dragged him by his hands through mud, twigs, and filth, he would not take his anger out on her.

  Luckily her hut was not far.

  ***

  Blaise's head burned. The heat ravaged his skull so harshly that he turned over in his sleep to angle himself away from the fire. The flames followed him.

  "No more logs," His slurred voice commanded. His bed felt rough and gritty, bits of straw poked him and made his body tingle and itch. He would command the servants to laundry the sheets when he decided to awake. It felt as though he slept on a mound of hay.

  A hand touched his shoulder. His father, surely, for no one other than he would dare enter his chamber to wake him.

  No, the hand that touched him was small and thin, not large like that of a man, he realized. His step-mother? If so then the woman was in another of her playful tempers that only caused him more annoyance.

  Blaise pushed the hand away. "Off with ye, Marianne. I am in no mood for yer games."

  "Marianne?" The feminine voice huffed. "I am Elizabeth!"

  Blaise forced his eyes open, a difficult task since they were being weighed down by rocks. When they finally obeyed his commands, Blaise shut them tightly again with the sharp stabs that assaulted them.

  He hissed and rubbed his fists to his eyes. Those same feminine hands wrapped around his wrists and tried to force him to pull away but he held firm. Whether he could see or not did not matter. His senses returned and the awareness that he was in a foreign place with an unknown woman filled his body with sharp displeasure.

  He wished to see more of where he was, but pain, tears, and blurred images greeted him when he opened his lids.

  "What did ye put in my eyes, witch?" He growled, rubbing harder and hating his blindness.

  The hands yanked themselves away. "Witch! I put nothing in yer eyes! 'Tis only
dirt."

  He did not believe her. He had dirt in his eyes plenty of times before and not once had he ever been in such pain. "'Tis more than dirt. Only boulders could do this."

  He tried to rub out the offending things, or at least move them to an area of his eyes where they did not cause him such discomfort. He needed to open them again and see where he was, and be aware of his surroundings so that he might make an escape.

  The female voice softened. "Aye, 'tis true. I would not be shocked if there were some rocks in there scratching at the whites. 'Tis actually mud from the road where I found ye."

  Blaise halted the rubbing but his hands remained in place. The road where she found him?

  Aye, that was correct. He had been riding, heading back to Graystone castle because of the rain when he was stopped by a portly man in the middle of the road. His memory could conjure no solid image, but he did recall how the man humbly begged Blaise for coins to feed his starving family.

  Eager to be out of the wet weather, Blaise reached for his pouch. He was promptly grabbed from behind and dragged from his horse. He was held down by what could only be a giant with the strength that overpowered him, and then beaten over the head before all had turned black on him.

  Beneath the damp blanket, Blaise became aware that he was naked. He clenched his fists harder over his useless eyes.

  The thieves took everything then. He could hardly believe his luck that they hadn't taken his life as well, though it would only serve him right for allowing himself to be fooled.

  He swore to himself to never trust another individual outside of his family after Robert's betrayal. Now, because he so much as trusted that a beggar might truly be in need of sustenance, he found himself blind and helpless.

  He clenched his fists in the straw. Relying on a peasant woman for aid…‘twas humiliating.

  “Is the pain so horrible for ye to scowl so?”

  The voice was soft, indicating that he was not being made a joke of. He still ignored the question. "Was there nothing left of mine scattered in the road? My sword, or horse?" he asked.

  "Nay, only yerself. Ye are fortunate that I came when I did as ye would have drowned had I not been travelling down that road."

  Blaise sputtered at her strange lie. "Drowned? There are no streams near that road."

  "Nay, but the rain does create small streams and lakes of its own, and ye were laying face down in one of those growing puddles."

  Her plainly spoken statement silenced him. He could hardly think at all. So the thieves left him for dead. He supposed he should feel grateful they had done so rather than seeing to the job themselves, otherwise he would not have been rescued by the woman sitting with him.

  He had no eyes so he relied on his ears to tell him that Elizabeth picked herself up from where she sat next to him and went to the other side of the chamber. Blaise heard a liquid being poured from a pitcher before she returned and sat next to him.

  "Remove yer hands. I'll wash it out. 'Tis clean water."

  Blaise kept his hands over his eyes for one second longer. Without the pressure from his fists the stabbing would return, but the offending rocks had to be taken out or else he would suffer with them for hours.

  Her hand pressed against his chest, pushing back down into the straw. "Put yer head back."

  He did as he was told, removing his hands and forcing them down but still keeping his eyes firmly shut against the onslaught of mud in his eyes.

  Her thumb and finger pressed just under and over his left eye, and he knew what she prepared to do before she explained it. "When ye open yer eye, I shall hold it open and pour the water in."

  Blaise nodded and opened his eye right away. The pressure of Elizabeth's fingers kept it open when instinct forced him to try and lock it shut as cool water splashed inside and blurred his vision.

  Blaise grit his teeth, counted, and could stand no more and forcefully turned his head away.

  Elizabeth cursed above him as she stilled the bowl to stop the water flow. "Fool! I have not yet finished!"

  "I have!" Blaise hissed back, wiping the water out of his face and keeping his other eye shut while he tried to force vision to come to the one that was open. His eye was clean, he could see perfectly through it without the pain of being pricked with tiny mud rocks.

  Instead of peering at his surroundings, his good eye focused on the woman sitting above him who had dared insult him. Blaise's breath caught.

  Only at the sight of her did he realize that 'twas no common peasant who rescued him. Her language, while foul, had no country accent. The fingers that tended to him were not rough with working hard labour. Though her ragged appearance and loose wet hair suggested that what he saw was a common serf, her treatment of him proved otherwise.

  "Who are ye?"

  "I told ye, I am Elizabeth Hollow. Ye are in my home."

  Blaise looked beyond her, his one hand still pressing against his dirty eye.

  What he thought was a chamber in a much larger dwelling was actually a hut that could hardly be considered a home. His bed of hay was at the far corner, in the center sat a small, dying fire that could in no way be responsible for his earlier discomfort.

  His hand flew to the back of his head. He winced as the lightning-quick pain struck him. The burning returned.

  “A gift from my attackers, no doubt,” he muttered.

  The girl said nothing, likely not wishing to anger him with any misplaced comments on his loss, so he returned to inspecting her home.

  There were shelves of meagre possessions, pots for cooking and, to his shock, what he was sure was a lady’s gown, folded and stuffed in one of the crooks.

  He could hear the rain outside. It had been pouring down during his attack, enough to keep him from seeing that there were men surrounding him before it was too late. ‘Twas now at a gentle shower. Though Elizabeth's roof still leaked and dripped in some places.

  Elizabeth gripped his chin and forced him to look to face her again, the bowl of water still in hand. "That is enough of yer gaping." She forced his other eye open and poured the water quicker than she had the last time.

  Blaise nearly turned away again but fisted his hands into the damp hay and grit his teeth.

  "Be still." Elizabeth commanded.

  "I am, ye wench." Blaise hissed, allowing her to wash the remains of dirt from his eyes.

  When the bowl was empty he brought his hand up to wipe away the remaining drops still on his face.

  Elizabeth slapped his hand away. "Stop that. Ye're spreading dirt around on yer face." She applied a rough bit of cloth to do the job for him, then took his hands and washed them with the damp rag as well.

  He kept his eyes on her while she diligently cleaned the mud from his fingers. Her thin brows came together over the largest eyes he had ever seen as her hands gently wiped the filth from him.

  His hands heated under her care, as did his body. He cleared his throat, reminding himself that she could likely be the enemy. "I thank ye."

  The movement of her hands against his halted. Her head did not lift but her eyes turned up to look at him beneath thick strands of her dark, wet hair that fell in her face. "I never would have thought that ye should thank anyone for anything, milord."

  The muscles in Blaise's body tensed, any warmth he felt over her touch vanished as a chill raced through him. He took his hands from hers and stood up, ignoring his nudity.

  Elizabeth scurried to her feet and backed away, her eyes wide.

  "Milord, I—"

  "How do ye know me?" he demanded, stepping towards her. She stepped back again in fright. He hardly cared. She hadn't outright spoken his name but she knew who he was, at least enough to know that he was a lord despite how she supposedly found him naked in the muck. "How do ye know me, woman?"

  She blinked, regaining her composure, though her hands clenched together in front of her. "Yer hair."

  His—? "What?"

  She raised her finger and pointed. "Everyone knows that
Lord Blaise Gray has that color hair. 'Tis the only reason I can think of as to why anyone would bother with robbing ye."

  He listened to her words, then sighed. Relief pulsed through him at the obvious answer, and he despised how true her words rang to his ears. “I suppose that would have to be the truth.”

  Blaise relaxed his body, he did not want to appear threatening to this woman who'd taken him in and, according to her, saved his life. Despite his calm stance, she remained tense and at a distance.

  Ah, yes, he was naked and they were quite alone, and he was so large in her hut. Blaise did not consider himself to be of a massive size, certainly of no comparison to Sir Ironside’s size, he was still larger than she. Blaise sat back down in her bed of hay and pulled the filthy blanket over his lap. Only then did Elizabeth release a breath. She still did not approach him.

  "I apologise. I had forgotten that I am so easily recognised by my despicable hair.”

  Recognisable enough to be made into an easy target by thieves, he thought sourly.

  Elizabeth nodded. “It is a despicable colour.”

  Blaise clenched his hands into her damp, filthy blanket. Water droplets leaked between his fingers when he did so. “Regardless, ye have my word that while I am here, I mean ye no ill will."

  If she made another comment like that, however, he might just take back that promise.

  "Do ye behave so rashly with every lady ye meet?"

  He raised a brow at her and smiled at the obvious jest. "Lady?"

  She bristled as his eyes travelled up and down her ragged gown, covered in the same muck she'd washed from his face, hands, and eyes, fraying in all the places he could see, and thin enough for holes to penetrate and allow him indecent glimpses of her chemise "Aye. Lady. My father was a wealthy knight, but my mother decided to raise me in poverty rather than have him know me."