Lady Deception

by Rizzo Rosko

  "I must be a good tutor. Ye dance lovely."

  "Thank ye, Lord Blaise, but the trouble was not entirely yers. Since ye have often found yerself to be too busy for me, yer father has volunteered more than once for the task."

  Blaise lifted her hand above her Brown braided head so that she might twirl gracefully beneath, then he pulled her back to his chest. "My father?"

  He had not expected anyone else to take up Elizabeth's tutoring when Blaise effectively ceased it. He enjoyed the foolish dance they had done together, but 'twas that very reason, along with how his body reacted when he held her at the mews, that he could not continue to teach her.

  Being so close to her, her body pressed to his, burning through the fabric of his clothes, was a dangerous thing. Like what was happening to him now. As if of its own accord, his hand snaked around her shapely waist, drawing her tighter to him to prevent her from leaving. She eventually would, leave, that is, whether or not he told her about Ferdinand and Nicholas.

  She drew him to her, whether she realized it or not, he felt it. He’d thought being away from her would enable him to resist, but it only left him agitated and miserable. He grew weary of fighting it.

  Eliza easily performed the steps to the dance, and her eyes fell shut. Blaise did not care. Let her shut her eyes, it allowed him to look at her with that same lust driven drunkenness Ian had looked at her with only moments ago.

  "Aye, yer father,” she said. “He taught me proper dancing, with help from Lady Gray. Now I believe that ye sought out to humiliate me by teaching me improper dancing."

  Her voice, huffy with insult, made Blaise smile. He brought his face to hers, stopping just before his mouth could touch the supple mound of her lips. They glistened in the candlelight when she licked them. Blaise turned his dry mouth turned away from the quenching oasis it desired, and tickled along the softness of her cheek.

  She shivered, her eyes flew open so that he might see the flecks of gold hiding behind the dark, earthy color. It described her perfectly, he realized with a start. A golden woman who spent her life living in the dirt. He could hardly blame her for wishing to shine, now could he?

  Shine she did. Lord, she was brighter than the sun. She could teach the fires to properly glow if they only shared a language.

  His mouth trekked to her ear, tenderly kissing the lobe before he spoke. "I do not recall ye having a horrible time while learning my improper dancing."

  She shivered, then pulled away. The disappearance of her body left him cold.

  "Lord Blaise, people will see. Ye want them to know that I spread a false rumour, do ye not?"

  "To the devil with it." He growled. His hand found the back of her head and pulled her forward until his mouth crushed over hers.

  A tiny squeal escaped Eliza's throat when her lips meshed against his but no other words could escape. Blaise would not allow her the chance to form them as he parted her mouth with his tongue.

  Only a woman’s shock could have allowed her to grant him entrance. Either that or she was more experienced than he knew.

  He didn't care. She could have had ten men before him, and 'twould not have made a difference. While he did not know it the moment he saw her, his want for her had been building, and now that her lips were firmly against his, awareness flooded him. He wanted this woman in his bed, at his side, and as his wife.

  Eliza's body remained as stiff as stone until she crumbled against him. Their feet stopped, neither moving along with the other dancers. Blaise only came up from the haze Eliza's lips, mouth, and tongue brought to him when a hand on his shoulder yanked him backwards.

  "'Laise! Ol' friend."

  Blaise could have punched Ian in his drunken mouth for daring to come between them. His fist formed to do just that, but when the man put his arm around Blaise's shoulder in a show of old, forgotten friendship, he allowed some mercy to slide through his veins and refrained from hitting him.

  "What do ye want, Sir Steele?"

  "Such formalities! 'Tis not to be had amongst—" He hiccoughed through his words. "—friends."

  The man's stance told Blaise that his former friend was more than drunk. Ian turned into an imbecile. "Ian, I do not know—"

  "Ah! And here is my love! Ian shoved himself off of Blaise with the grace of a cripple and pulled Elizabeth close, as close as Blaise had her only a moment ago. "I saw the performance, but do not fret, shh." Ian put a finger to his lips. "I shall not tell a soul."

  Amazement flickered across Eliza's face. "Ye shan't?" Her head spun about, searching the faces of the other guests. "Did no one else see?"

  The fear in her voice brought a pain in Blaise's gut.

  Ian's lips flapped in a negative response. "Nay, the crowd is too busy drinking, dancing, and payin' attention only to themselves to notice two more people sharin’ a bit o’ intimacy.

  Blaise turned his head about the same way Eliza had. To his horror, Ian was right. Far too many people were already drunk on their ale, assisting those drunk on their ale, dancing, or even sharing some intimacy of their own to bother with anyone else. James himself stood hidden in a corner, latched to some wench and kissing her for all he was worth.

  Disappointment raked his belly. He'd hoped to be seen, but by Eliza's expression, she was relieved that they had not been.

  "Now my lovely, as I said before," Ian wobbled slightly on his feet, struggled for purchase, then righted himself. "Shall we ‘o away for a private word?"

  Her eyes went to his. Blaise glared at her, willing her answer to be the one that sent Ian away with his tail between his legs.

  "Aye, I would very much like to see what it is that ye wish to show me."

  The floor beneath him fell away and Blaise descended into a pit. It felt that way at any rate. Eliza and Ian attempted to walk by him, but Blaise reached out and took her by the arm, halting the both of them.

  "Do ye even know what it is he wishes to show ye?" He hissed, his eyes ablaze with hatred for the knight who wished to cart off Eliza and have her.

  'Twould prove that she was merely some wench out searching for someone to trap into caring for her. He did not want her to be that person he once thought she was. He wanted the truth to be that she truly was the innocent she described herself as, otherwise, how could he love a manipulative shrew?

  She yanked her arm free of his hand, whispering spitefully so that Sir Ian could not hear. "'Tis not yer concern what I do in the time Lady Gray allows me to have, Lord Blaise."

  Actually, it was.

  "And after avoiding me and going to the trouble of telling everyone in the castle that 'twas only a jest I spoke of, just to kiss me, I am shocked ye have any concern for me a’tall when 'tis clear ye wish to make me into some whorish, cruel villain!"

  Blaise stepped back. Surely he had not been so cruel to her that she would think his kiss had been ill conceived? He taught her to dance, once, and promised that she could visit the mews again. Admittedly it had been less of a promise and more of a suggestion, one which he had yet to follow up on. Still, she should have taken those things into account to see that he was not a cruel man.

  Sir Ian waved drunkenly at him, unaware of what had just been spoken of before leading Eliza off and out of the Great Hall.

  Blaise clenched his fists until his nails bit the flesh of his hand and followed them.

  Chapter Seven

  Elizabeth allowed Ian to take her out of the Great Hall. His hand gripped hers like a shackle to prevent escape while he led the way to she didn't even know where, and was certain he did not either.

  He stumbled over the rushes at their feet and giggle as they both nearly collapsed onto the floor, prevented only because Eliza put all her weight in the opposite direction of his fall, keeping Sir Ian on his wobbling feet.

  He giggled again and put a finger to his lips. "Shhh,"

  The breath left his mouth and surrounded her face like a soap bubble, trapping the stench of alcohol and forcing her to breathe it in.

 
She prayed that he would quickly show her what he wished her to see so that she might leave. His hand slipped with sweat as it held hers, and the farther away from the noise of the Great Hall, and Blaise, she travelled, the more the unease in her belly demanded her attention.

  Blaise. Simply thinking the name of that red haired devil made her gut churn with anger and other fluttering emotions she wished would disappear.

  The man treated her like some vile, unwelcome creature out to harm his family, and had all but ignored her after their first dance lesson, then demands that the servants and fellow knights know that when she spoke of their supposed wedding, that 'twas merely a jest by some foolish woman. Not to be taken seriously.

  The last part was the truth. She had spoken in jest to anger him, but she knew her mistake. It did not mean he needed to run about the castle ensuring that everyone know he was not betrothed to some lowly peasant girl, as though the prospect of marrying her disgusted him.

  Then he kissed her! Anger heated her face as the memory of how he dared to pull her close and caress her like a lover. The swine. He may abhor the idea of wedding her, but that did not mean she would sink to allowing him to bed her so that she might be known as the castle whore.

  "'ere we are." Ian slurred, pushing a door open with the weight of his body and stumbling inside. Elizabeth forced to hurry along with him as her hand was still gripped in his, pulling her gown up to avoid slipping on the hem.

  ‘Twas a dimly lit, plain, and very small, bedchamber. A fire had once burned but the dying embers cast the dark room in a sleepy haze that barely allowed her to see.

  The chamber was simply furnished. Likely ‘twas shared by some of the higher servants, perhaps even Olma since Lady Gray adored the girl. Eliza saw nothing special about the bedchamber warranting them to leave on some foolish adventure to see it.

  “‘Tis fortunate that I rescued ye ‘efore anyone saw Blaise, ‘issing ye like ye were ‘is own.” Ian slurred and burped his words.

  Humiliation brought heat to her cheeks again. Elizabeth glared at the memory and looked away from him. “Aye, thank ye, Sir Ian.”

  “Ye d’not wish t’ be seen with the castle bastard pawing ye, for certain.”

  Elizabeth snapped her head back around. “What? What did ye say?”

  Ian waved his hand, as though insulting the man who was once a childhood friend were nothing. “Everyone knows tha’ story.” He laughed, and could not seem to stop as he retold it. “O’ course, no one can prove it. Lord Gray keeps ‘im ‘ere out of guilt. Hoping to ‘ide that ‘is lady shared a bed with a serf, but everyone knows.”

  The memory of how Blaise demanded that she not call herself a bastard came back to her, how his eyes became sad when she spoke the word. He’d called it vile.

  A reaction like that could be brought on by having the word thrown at him, whether behind his back or not, he seemed to know the pain of such a word. She herself knew the truth after she commented on his eyes, but she never thought low of him for it.

  The urge to defend him screamed a war cry like a knight charging into battle. “Lord Gray says that Blaise is his son. ‘Tis good enough for him and should be for ye as well.”

  Ian waved his hand again. Fury spread inside her like a disease at having her words so easily dismissed. “‘E will be lord, ‘tis true, but i’ does not change that ‘e is the son of a peasant and a whore.”

  "Sir Steele—!"

  “I came not to argue.” Ian's mouth latched onto hers much the same as Blaise's had done. Only this mouth was hungrier, messier, and unwelcome as well as foul tasting. His arms wound about her shoulders, chaining her to him.

  Elizabeth brought her hands to Ian's neck and pushed, separating his mouth from hers and gasping for breath that was not tainted by ale. Then, like a waterfall crashing down on her, she knew why Sir Ian took her away from the Great Hall and brought her to an empty bedchamber. The knowledge chilled the breath in her lungs.

  He leaned closer, the weight of his neck against her hands choking him. The strength required to keep him at bay burned her arms and Elizabeth contemplated releasing him so that the red in his face would turn back into a normal color.

  She forced as much control into her voice. "Sir Steele! I did not come here so that ye might bed me! Sir Steele!"

  She shrieked when he bobbed his head around her hands, dropped to the floor, scooped his hands under her knees and lifted her into the air.

  His sudden rush back up and her unnatural weight on his shoulder nearly toppled him backward into the fireplace. Elizabeth screamed, her guts twisting around her heart as she descended into the low burning fire. A finger’s length further and the flames would be licking her face!

  Ian righted himself, pulling her to safety as he did. Elizabeth only remembered the other cause for concern as he threw her into the bed. She rolled to the side and leapt off the offending object before he could jump on her. She ran to the door but was thrown to the floor by an enormous weight.

  Ian's body lay on top of hers, pressing her chest into the floor and preventing her from taking in proper breaths. Elizabeth couldn't breathe! Ian's weight suffocated her!

  The man behind her rubbed himself against her rump, searching for friction as his hands searched for the bottom of her gown. Elizabeth felt the fabric of her gown and chemise lifting and, using the last breath inside her, screamed until her lungs burst. The sudden lack of oxygen brought darkness behind her eyes.

  ***

  Gentle slaps irritated her dream. She raised her hands to wave away the offending person but they persisted in abusing her cheeks.

  "Eliza, my love, wake up."

  Blaise's voice brought consciousness to her as though he'd doused her with water from an icy lake. He looked down upon her as she lay in his lap, still on the floor. She could tell by the dim lighting and bed frame he sat against that they were in the same room.

  Elizabeth's tears cascaded down her cheeks. She hid her face behind her hands so that he would not see but the broken sobs escaped her throat ensured her humiliation. Blaise's larger hands, which had been cradling her, lifted her up so that she leaned against his chest.

  She did not wish to, 'twas likely that he would laugh about this to her and any other male friend he could find, but her arms wound around his neck without her permission. They held on as tightly as if he were the very thing that kept her heart beating.

  He rocked her as though she were a child.

  "Hush, Eliza, 'tis over now."

  "I'm ruined!" She wailed.

  He didn't seem to hear her as her despaired wail was muffled by his shoulder and tunic. He pulled her back slightly so that he might look at her, but she hid her swelling eyes behind her hands again.

  "What was that?" He asked.

  "I am ruined. No one will want me if they know!" ‘Twas bad enough she was an old maid, but now that she was no longer a virgin her hopes of finding love were damned to Hell.

  Elizabeth found herself being crushed against his chest once more, only more fiercely this time. "Do not fear, Eliza. I came in before he could do any more. Cease yer tears. Look."

  He raised her face and pointed around to the other side of the bed. Elizabeth leaned back behind the post and looked in the direction Blaise pointed.

  She released a fearful gasp. Sir Ian slouched motionless against the stone wall, his face pointed down at his chest. She did not realise that he would not rise to attack again until she sighted the blood and spittle that dripped from his face.

  Elizabeth squinted in the dark, her eyes following the source of the leaking. Though his face was down, both eyes swelled so profusely that she could make out their mounds on what used to be a flawless countenance.

  She shuddered and leaned back into Blaise's protective embrace. "Is he—"

  His arms tightened around her smaller frame. "I do not know. Nor do I care."

  "Will ye not be punished if he is dead?"

  He shrugged, the blue eyes he stared at her with were as
hard as rock and as cold as one on a frozen winter morn. "If he dies, he dies. I shall deal with the consequences later."

  Elizabeth shuddered again and snuggled into him to chase away her chill. Blaise had rescued her? "Thank ye."

  She felt his lips brush against her hair. "Ye need not thank me."

  But she did, and even then it wasn’t enough. “I shall find a way to repay ye.” Elizabeth's tears burst through her with an ongoing sob once more, and Blaise's arms tightened protectively around her.

  "Eliza? What is it?"

  The image of Sir Ian, staring at her in what she now recognized as lust filled her head. How stupid she had been to not see it! "I—I never thought that the noble could be as cruel as the poor," she said, sniffing loudly.

  "I do not understand." Blaise said.

  Elizabeth could not look at him. To do so would be far more humiliating than what she’d just suffered. All she could do was clutch him tighter.

  "The people my mother...serviced. They were always rude, cruel people. Sometimes they would look at me and ask how much 'twould cost to have me, but my mother never sold me to them." Elizabeth's sobs came louder as she told her mother's story. "Sometimes they would take her without her permission, or without paying. I hated them all!"

  Elizabeth pounded her fist down on Blaise's shoulder. He seemed not to mind. "I always thought that the nobility were noble because they were nothing like the poor I grew up with. Mother tried to tell me, but I never listened."

  Her voice broke when she spoke the last part. Regretful memories of how disrespectful she herself had been, and how she wished she could return to that time and take it all back, make amends, and tell her mother that she loved her one last time.

  She dared to look into Blaise's eyes. He stared passed her, his eyes far away. "Is that why ye went with Ian when he led ye from the Great Hall?"

  She nodded, wishing she weren't so foolish. "Aye. I thought he only meant to show me something. ‘Twas all he said he wanted. To show me some secret or other that he knew of."

  The distant look in his blue eyes remained until he finally blinked down upon her. "And, when I kissed ye? What were yer thoughts on that?"