by Rizzo Rosko
Blaise’s eyes widened. “Ye sold yerself?”
She shook her head, her eyes shining. “My mother suggested it once, but I said I did not want to, and she never brought it up again. I loved her for that, but it never stopped any of those men from turning their attacks onto me whenever I tried to stop them from hurting her. Our home was small, nearly as small as my hut, as ye may recall. There was nowhere for me to go but to wait outside the door as the men came for her, and I always heard if they were being too harsh.”
Blaise wanted to reach out and hold her, if only to diminish her pain, but after such a story, he knew that contact such as that would be unwelcome. He decided to tell her what he knew. “I met Ferdinand only once while he was alive.”
Eliza’s still shining eyes found his, waiting for what he would say.
He took a breath. “Believe me when I say that yer mother did ye a service by fleeing.”
***
The doors to the great hall burst open. Edward scrambled inside and ran for where Blaise stood. Elizabeth nearly did not notice, shocked as she was by Blaise’s declaration. Hastily, she dried her eyes before the boy could see.
"Brother!" Edward whined. "Why are the doors closed? Where are the servants?"
"‘Where is yer nurse?’ is the better question." Blaise snapped, but Elizabeth detected no true heat in his voice as he allowed the boy to wrap his small arms around Blaise's waist. Edward's head barely passed that height marker.
"She's sleeping!" He happily announced.
Blaise ruffled the boy’s hair. "Useless wench. She cannot keep up with ye, can she?" Blaise grinned devilishly at his brother as he spoke. Edward shook his head, his lips pressed together as though holding back his bursts of laughter at his own cleverness.
Elizabeth's heart warmed at the sight of him. 'Twas merely the second time she'd seen the boy speaking with his brother, and while Blaise put on a show of mock annoyance, their relationship sparked envy in Elizabeth's chest.
How she used to long for a sibling, when she was younger and still unaware of where that sibling would come from. She had almost received one, but it was not to be. Now she was without a mother and a brother.
Edward grabbed Blaise by his tunic and began tugging. "Come fight me. I've improved my swordsmanship."
Blaise did not budge. "Yer swordsmanship involves a wooden toy. I do not use toys."
"I can still beat ye."
Elizabeth giggled. The heads of both men turned to her. Blaise's face changed color, as though he had forgotten she was there listening to their banter. Edward's face lit up with excitement, and Elizabeth had no doubt he could teach the torches how to illuminate a room.
"Eliza thinks I can do it! She will cheer for me when I beat ye."
True annoyance slipped into Blaise’s voice. "She will do no such thing."
Such a thing to say! Could it be Blaise was affronted by his small brother's claims to easy victory? Or that she would be the one to cheer when he was beaten? Her cheeks unexpectedly heated.
She shook herself. Perhaps spending time with him, trying to convince him that she was not an evil wench out to harm him or his family, had been a horrible idea. It had to be if she continued to feel this warm pooling in her belly. Perhaps the intelligent way to gain his trust would be to stay clear of him, and prove through her other actions that she was trustworthy.
Aye. That was indeed the solution. No longer would she seek Blaise out if it only brought this odd fluttering in her chest. She would do as Lady Gray asked and allow herself to be taught by him until she could find a suitable replacement, then let him have his peace.
Edward pulled her from her thoughts by yanking on the sleeve of her gown. "Ye will come. Watch me throttle him."
"Edward, do not pester her. A woman has no patience for watching children throw their sticks about," Blaise said, yanking Edward away from her.
"I would be delighted to watch."
Both men twisted their heads to her again. Blaise's brows came together in thought while Edward jumped up and cheered.
Elizabeth inwardly shrieked. 'Twas not what she meant to say!
She opened her mouth to make some sudden excuse and pardon herself out of the room, but Edward's joyous smile halted her. He grabbed his older brother by the hand and started to pull him in the direction of the great hall, trusting that Elizabeth would follow.
"Eliza will see how well I am doing!" He yelled.
Blaise muttered to himself but Elizabeth didn't catch his words. She did frown though. 'Twas the second time she heard Edward refer to her as something as simple as Eliza, and he had obviously gotten it from his brother.
She did not to correct the boy and allowed herself to be led out of the Great Hall and towards the courtyard.
Blaise turned his head to look at her when they walked next to each other, though Edward still retained a firm grip on his hand. His smaller body leaned heavily forward as he put his weight into making Blaise increase his speed towards the courtyard. They looked comical as Blaise walked calmly towards their destination as though a boy were not yanking him along.
Elizabeth smiled at Blaise. "He is to be a paige soon, correct? Perhaps indulging him would not be a crime."
"Aye. I shall be a paige and sent off to Sir Ironside's."
"Nay, ye shall not." Blaise said to his brother before turning his attention back to Elizabeth. "Marianne insists on coddling him for a few more years yet before he is sent off."
The mention of Lady Gray while both Blaise and Edward stood together prompted a question in Elizabeth's head. Edward appeared the spitting image of his father, having luckily inherited the light coloured hair instead of Marianne's deep shade of red. Blaise looked nothing like his father or his brother. Perhaps his mother had that same color hair? "D'ye look like yer mother?" She asked.
Blaise’s face heated, and Elizabeth noted how he carefully avoided looking at her. "I am told I have her eyes."
"Only her eyes?"
Blaise glared at her, and Elizabeth realized too late what it all meant. Blaise was not the child of Lord Gray.
“No more questions out of ye. I grow weary of answering them.” He said harshly.
Edward released Blaise’s hand as they exited the castle. He ran to the far wall of the keep, and picked up two wooden swords, about half the size of a normal weapon and obviously meant for small children such as himself.
"Now, sir knight,” he called out, swinging the mock-blade. “We shall fight for the lady's hand."
Blaise reluctantly took the small wooden blade that was only about the size of his forearm. He glanced behind himself to Elizabeth at Edward's comment.
She turned away to hide her smile and scratched at her neck, willing the heat to go down.
"That mark!"
Elizabeth snapped her head back at him. Blaise marched towards her, the wooden blade forgotten in his hand as his eyes bore into the spot on her neck.
"Blaise." Edward whined and gave chase. His cry was ignored.
Blaise lifted his hand and touched her cheek. The familiar heat from whenever his skin connected with hers returned, only now there was no dance between them to take her mind away from it. The heat gathered and pooled into her knees. If she did not pull away she would surely collapse.
"Lord Blaise—"
"Shh," His fingers slid down and lifted her chin, exposing her neck. His face leaned closer. Elizabeth trembled. Then his intention dawned on her, and the heat in her body tripled. He meant to kiss her!
She swallowed and forced her limbs to cease trembling. If he wished to kiss her neck she would let him. Nay, she would not simply let him, she would command him to if he did not press his lips to her aching flesh.
The pressure of his mouth never came.
"What is this?" He asked instead.
Elizabeth blinked, confused as though she pulled herself from a good dream and found none of it were real. "W-what?"
"This mark? Is it a scar? Where did it come from?" His fin
gers trailed along where her neck met her jaw and tapped the spot. She shivered at the luxurious contact.
Edward jumped around at their feet. "What is what? I want to see!"
Blaise swatted him away and asked his question again. "What is this mark? It looks like a sword."
"Oh," She knew of which he spoke now. The red mark she had been born with, just under her jaw. Though not in a place easily hidden, no one ever saw it unless she turned her head in an angle that made it more prominent. "'I have always had it. ‘Tis something I was born with."
Blaise continued to stare at her, as though judging the honesty of her words.
"May I ask why, milord?" She asked. While its shape did bring about a compliment or two, or even a lewd comment, no one had ever taken such an interest in it as Blaise had.
Instead of answering her, Blaise returned his attention to his brother, lifted the wooden toy, and proceeded to have a playful match with him in the center of the courtyard
Elizabeth was left to watch, scratching her jaw and wishing with all her might that she knew what brought such an interest in the mark. She also desired, with every drop of blood inside her, for Blaise to return and kiss her.
Chapter Five
Blaise had his play match with Edward. He played the evil dragon, clacking his wooden sword against Edward's feeble attacks with a mixture of boredom and glee at the boy's obvious frustration that he, the great knight, could not defeat his older brother.
'Twas not all Blaise felt mixed about. Eliza watched him, pleasant smile tugging the corners of her luscious mouth the entire time. He did not know whether to be delighted that she still bothered to witness their little game, or give into the temptation to drop the foolish sword he held, walk over there, and put that mouth of hers to better use.
Instead he spent the whole time in a lazy daze until Edward finally kicked him in the knee. The pain of which, promptly pulled him from his reverie.
"Ye're a bad dragon!"
The comment had naught to do with the character he portrayed and everything with how he played the part. Blaise knew 'twas not very well considering how he normally did it.
He smiled stiffly through the throb in his leg. "I apologize. Next time I shall play a better ogre."
"Dragon!"
"Aye, that." He glanced at Eliza after she giggled. Her hand was to her lips, trying to stifle it. He glared at her but her grin widened.
He could take no more. He shooed Edward in the opposite direction so that he might be alone with Eliza. "Run along and play. Go bother Archer’s son before yer mother discovers that ye have escaped yer nurse again."
Edward's face twisted in horror before he ran in the opposite direction as quickly as a deer in the forest. Eliza let her laughter soar at the sight.
The woman was mad! Was she constantly laughing or giggling at something or other? "Ye certainly seem to find joy in everything ye do."
She shook her head, as though denying his claim. "I adore yer brother. I only wish I had one of my own."
Blaise snorted. "If ye had one ye would never say something as foolish as that.”
She sighed. “I very nearly did have a sibling. ‘Twas how my mother died. In childbirth.”
Blaise winced. He imagined that because of their lot in life Eliza was likely the one to play midwife while her mother suffered and died. He did not need to ask to know that the father was likely one of Bertha’s clients.
He wished for comforting words to come to him. “Small siblings are always devising tricks to steal yer time for themselves and their games."
Her catty smile returned. It confused and intrigued him. "Ye seemed to be enjoying the game well enough, Lord Blaise."
“I do not enjoy making a fool of myself.”
She waved a finger at him. “Ah, but ye enjoyed it enough to stay in the game when ye could have left it.”
“I enjoy being with my brother, not playing his ridiculous games.”
“Yet ye still play them.”
He could not win against her! She insisted on proving some point, what he was not certain, but she obviously would not cease arguing until he relented.
‘Twas true, he did enjoy being with Edward. Next to their father, the boy thought Blaise was a King. Still, that did not mean he enjoyed making an arse out of himself when a woman was present, regardless of whether she was a peasant or not.
He frowned at the thought. If she was the daughter of Bartholomew Ferdinand like she claimed, then, like she constantly reminded him, she was no peasant. The daughter of their dead enemy perhaps, but if that mark on her neck meant what he thought it meant—
"Are we to return to my lessons now?"
Blaise jumped back a step. The wench snuck up on him while he was lost in thought, her face a breath away from his with that same foolish grin lifting her cheeks and brightening her eyes.
He could not return to dancing with her. Not until he discovered the truth about her regarding this new secret. "Nay, we shall continue on the morrow. I have pressing matters to see to with my father."
Her grin slid from her face like rainwater sliding down the stone walls of the castle. As quickly as it left, it came back again. "Next time we will dance where there will be no interruptions."
Blaise nodded, reached out to take her hand, and brought it to his lips. Her face heated like a fire when his mouth touched the soft, pale skin once again. "Until our next lesson then."
Even as he dropped her hand and walked away, leaving her to go and find Olma by herself, he scolded himself for kissing her hand. If he continued to allow himself that sort of luxury, then he would find himself tied to her more tightly than what should be allowed.
***
"A sword? Are ye certain of this?"
Blaise nodded. "'Tis a birthmark, not a scar, hidden under her jaw. She would have to be looking in a high angle for it to be seen."
"Or for someone else to be leaning down on her to see it," Marianne chimed in happily, sitting on a stool with her back against the wall, her delicate hands on her belly.
Blaise glared at her. "I did no such thing."
"Cease yer bickering, please," William sighed and squeezed his eyes shut, as though warding off a headache. "I would prefer to see it myself, if only to be sure.I will also have to have Nicholas examine it for true confirmation."
"We should send word to him," Blaise said.
William paced around his solar. It seemed that since the vixen came, he was forced to do that a lot, as well as for the three of them to come into the room for privacy. "Such news cannot be trusted to a messenger."
"Even if we do not send word to him,” Marianne said. “He shall likely be preparing to ride out for our celebration early with Sir Hugh and Sir Bryce. ‘Twould not be as though we waited a full fortnight for him to come, and should we be mistaken, we will have given him cause to ride here at breakneck speed for no reason."
Blaise despised it when his step mother spoke wisely.
"She will have to be told of the possibilities." William said, stealing the attention of the two other people in the room away from each other. "She shall have to be prepared for this possible new truth. We cannot simply have Nicholas arrive, put them into a private room together, and reveal what we have learned. Both will think us all mad, and neither will be pleased."
Blaise sighed. "From how Eliza has spoken of Ferdinand it seems that she holds him in no particular regard. From what she has told me, it would seem Bertha did not make her fully aware of his reputation.” Blaise dearly hoped that was the case. “Even so, being told there is a chance that the man she thought was her father may very well not be could come as a shock to her."
"Ah, so she is still Eliza to ye, is she?" Marianne asked.
Blaise glared at her. “I only call her that because she despises the name. ‘Tis not some lover’s name like ye think.”
William shook his head and sent his wife a pleading look. "Please, my love, now is not the time for yer matchmaking games."
Marianne bowed her head, trying to hide her shameful blush.
William returned his attention to Blaise's previous statement. "'Twould be a heavy shock, aye, but know they must. I don't know why I did not see this sooner. Nicholas was with Bertha before I ever was. 'Twas he who recommended that I see her! The timing for him to be Elizabeth's father is too perfect."
Marianne raised her head. "Who shall reveal that Nicholas may very well be her father?"
"No one," Blaise said. Both his father and Marianne whipped their heads at him.
"She needs to know—"
"She need know nothing. We shan't give her a false hope of a living sire when this could easily be a speculation. I only spoke of it to satisfy a curiosity, not harm the poor girl's feelings."
They were both silent for a moment until William broke it. "I agree. At the celebration I shall ask to see the birthmark on Nicholas's forearm. Then I shall have the girl show me the birthmark on her neck. Should they be an exact match, I will gently broach the subject with Nicholas and ask if he would like anything to do with the girl."
Those words caught Blaise's attention like an iron fist around his throat. "Do with her?"
William shrugged. "Aye, he may wish to take her home, leave her here to continue being Marianne's companion, or refuse to acknowledge her altogether. Though I very much doubt 'twill be the latter he will choose since he has always longed for a child."
“She is no child.” Marianne reminded, though not unkindly.
Blaise knew that better than either of the two people standing in the room.
William nodded. “I have seen that, and while ‘tis too late for him to raise her, I imagine Nicholas will wish to know her as a father knows his daughter.”
Blaise clenched his fists and folded his arms over his broad chest. “Ye believe ‘tis likely he will take her?”
The thought that this new development could mean Eliza would be leaving had never crossed Blaise's mind. Had he known of the possibility, he would have left all alone.
He shook his head, clearing the thought away. How could he say such a thing? Earlier he warned Eliza that should he catch her in some foul act, he would toss her out himself. Now it seemed he did not wish her to leave at all.
