by Rizzo Rosko
Her hand flew out and captured his wrist in a falcon grip. "Nay! Stay. I promise I am well."
He stared a moment longer before sitting back down next to her. "Then what caused yer collapse? I do not wish to worry so."
Dread filled her stomach as the only possible answer came to her. Blaise had not recognised the men she had begged into the castle. He still knew nothing of her plotting with them. She still had to keep the secret.
"I—" She forced a smile, though her lips trembled. "It must have been the excitement. I was so eager to see them and what tricks they could perform."
His eyes stared questioningly at her. "Yer hands were trembling as they approached..."
She waited with her breath held. Waited for him to call out her lie and demand the truth.
He leaned forward and kissed her cheek instead, then touched his mouth to her lips. "Perhaps if such a small excitement brings this out in ye, 'twould be best to stay here and rest."
Rest was the last thing she felt she could do. Not while those men walked in her new home, endangering her new life with the man she loved. "Will ye stay with me?"
He smiled, his fingers stroking a sensitive spot behind her ears before massaging her hair. "I will always stay."
Not if ye knew what secret I hold, she thought, snuggling into Blaise's chest as he slipped into bed next to her.
He promised her before they married that whatever secrets she held, he loved her regardless. After that time, she imagined herself telling him of her crime against him, not straight away, but one day. She imagined him nodding and accepting, praising her honesty.
Nay. ‘Twas not possible. No longer was her faith in his words set in stone now that Albin was in the castle.
The man wanted something from her. Soon she would have to face it.
She kissed his hands when they went around her chest and pulled her close. She wished she could lock his hands there so that he could never leave.
***
Blaise wished with all his soul that he could believe his wife. He attributed it to his experience with Robert and the stories of his mother.
Eliza lied to him. He felt it in his bones.
Despite how her body still shivered as he held her, she slid into a fitful sleep, leaving Blaise alone with his thoughts. He wanted to believe that his own fears caused this ache inside of him, this monster that made him suspect her.
He wanted to believe her, he wanted to be happy and have faith in her. He promised her she could have her secrets and he would do naught about it, but he saw something in her eyes. ‘Twas something that undid all the trust he allowed himself to give to her.
‘Twas fear.
Those men frightened Eliza and she refused to tell him why.
A low, protective growl built in his throat. Whatever it was, before the end of the night, he would discover what their crime had been towards her and have them locked away for it.
Chapter Twelve
Blaise walked to his father, stood next to him, surveyed the scene, and asked, "How are their skills?"
William, who stood with Bryce, Hugh, and Nicholas, turned to face him. He raised his hand towards where the bigger man who wrestled with the visiting knights.
"The one called Ivan seems to be drawing the largest crowd, but only for the men. They all wish to see if they can knock him over."
Hugh scratched his chin, a smile of interest on his face. “I disagree. ‘Tis not his skill that draws the crowd, but the chance to win gold in a wager, though they all seem to be in favour of that tree of a man.”
Blaise turned his head up and watched as another man charged at Ivan the giant. Ivan held one hand out, halting his charging attacker and throwing him aside as though he were a child.
Blaise’s eyes searched for the other two men. The thinner peasant, the one who seemed to be the leader of their band, sang to the maids in a voice as fine as any woman's.
Blaise nearly laughed at the ridiculous sound, but the women swooned over him as though he were a great prize.
The fat one of a small height juggled a group of no less than ten pears, though very few seemed to be paying attention to him in favour of the strong man and his singing comrade.
Watching them, especially the squat one, Blaise felt his blood spike with unease in his chest. "What do we know of them?"
Hugh shrugged. "They seem as ordinary as any peasant folk. Like all men, noble or otherwise, they wish to stay as long as possible to gather a few coins from yer father."
"Which will not happen." William insisted. "As soon as Eliza has taken her joy, they will be gone. We’ve had enough merriment here already."
"What is her condition?" Nicholas asked, his eyes soft with worry.
Blaise hated that he felt pity for the man, so he turned away from the hurtful stare. "She is well. 'Twas the excitement that brought about her lapse."
"Or her condition, eh boy?" Bryce elbowed him in the ribs.
Blaise fought away the splotches of heat that coloured his face. He hated that he could do something as silly as allow his face to heat and Bryce damn well knew it.
"'Tis too early for that to be possible, fool. Ye know that," he muttered.
Bryce chuckled. "Aye, but it did not hurt nothin' to see yer humiliation."
Blaise opened his mouth with a few curses in mind before William interjected. "Enough! Bryce, quit yer teasing of my son. Blaise, mind yerself."
Blaise grumbled but did as his father bid him, turning back to the men who performed for the servants and guests in the courtyard. "I do not trust them."
"Ye trust no one." Nicholas said.
He stopped before he could defend himself. He wished to say that he trusted Eliza, but until he knew the reason for her secrecy regarding these men, he found that he could not, regardless of his promise.
***
Colin slipped from the sights of the men and women who watched in the courtyard with ease. No one paid any mind to his weak skills as a juggler, not with Ivan testing his strength against the knights, and Albin wooing the maids.
He may be the rounder one of the group, but his short size and lack of skill made him easy to forget. 'Twas exactly the way Albin planned. He would find the girl, and let their demands be known before she could have them tossed from the castle.
She did not stand in the courtyard, but he had been told to expect that after her performance in the grand hall. He snuck inside and travelled down the corridors with haste.
"Ye there! What is yer business here!"
Colin froze. How could he be caught so quickly?
A knight wearing the colors of the lord of the castle, with a long sword at his hip approached him. Ivan could likely toss the man aside like nothing, but Colin himself could do very little to protect himself without the giant man's aid.
The knight stopped before him and stared down at him with a scrunched nose and suspicious eyes. Colin despised that look. It came from being both remarkably short for a man, and also being less in the eyes of whoever gave him that foul stare.
"I asked what are ye doing wandering about here?"
Colin swallowed, struggling to recall the words he'd been told to speak should this happen. "I—I have been given permission to get some bread from the kitchens."
The knight lifted a thick eyebrow at his reply.
"'Tis a reward fer the services my brother and I performed today."
The knight rolled his eyes up, as if thinking about it, or struggling for patience. Colin held his breath.
"Very well, but yer heading in the wrong direction. The kitchen is that way, fool."
Colin bowed, hatred boiling inside of him. "Thank ye, milord. I shall go right away!" He hissed and turned. He all but ran in the direction the conceited knight pointed him towards.
How he hated them! Rich, spoiled creatures they were. Before he had been nearly hesitant to do any harm to the lady, but the constant reminder of his status as being of less worth than the dirt knights and lords walked on grated on him
. Now he could not wait to have the little wench pay for his comfort.
He grumbled as he soon came to realize that the knight who pointed the way had been the true fool between them. This was not the direction towards the kitchen! He stood in front of the chapel!
His mission was not to find the kitchen, but bread and cheese, perhaps a bit o’ ale or wine, sounded delicious before searching for the horse haired wench. He nearly turned and walked away, but halted as the doors to the chapel opened. Out stepped his prize.
She tenderly wiped a finger beneath her eye, as though shooing away a stray tear.
He eyed the fine clothes she wore. Colourful things trimmed with furs, her hair braided and curled in some fancy knot on her head.
He snarled, much like the snarl the knight had stared at him with. Married for a day and she was already a lady in both mind and body. His hatred for the higher class spread onto him like fleas to dogs.
She halted at the sight of him. He could not suppress a tiny smile and mocking bow. "Milady." He drawled.
She stepped back, her head darted around as though searching for help. "What are ye doing in my home?"
"Yer home?” He raised a brow. “Married for one day and already 'tis yer home?"
"They said 'twas my home, and it is." She challenged with a stiff back.
He waved a finger at her. "Ah, but when they discover yer little secret, will it be yer home then?"
Her flesh became stiff with fear once more. Courage swelled inside Colin’s thick chest. "'Tis exactly as I thought."
She shook her head and took another step back. "Ye have no proof. They shall never believe..."
"They'll believe enough when my brother reveals the sword 'e took from yer husband." Colin snapped. “The one he failed to unsheathe when Ivan pulled ‘im from ‘is horse.”
Her body remained stiff. The color drained from her face.
"We kept it. It’s with us even now, ‘idden. We shall use it unless ye do as we wish."
The wind made no whisper as he awaited her answer. She clasped her hands together as though to prevent them from shaking. "And, what is yer wish?"
Glee filled him like fine wine. "Our demands are simple, ye are fortunate for that much, milady. We merely want food and shelter. When ye paid us to knock the boy off 'is horse, ye said naught a word about ye marrying him and living all ‘igh and migh’y in his castle."
Her hands shot to her mouth and her shoulders quaked at his words. "Keep yer voice down! Do ye wish to have yer plans ruined before they take fruit?"
He did not care. Victory clouded his mind like a drunken haze. Nothing could stop them! All he had to do was recite the words Albin told him. "Tell me, milady, do ye believe this castle has a pit?"
She inhaled so quickly for a moment he feared she would faint again.
"L—Lord Gray would not have...Blaise would never allow..."
Her quaking hand went to her throat. He could almost see her mind conjuring images of being thrown into that pit within a pit, with the rats and bones and left to starve as she was forgotten.
Her shoulders helplessly slumping was the sign he waited for. She nodded her head. "I shall see what can be done." She made one last attempt at bravery by storming passed him.
"We want new clothes as well, ours are falling into tatters." He called after her.
She halted, though did not bother turning back to look at him. "I shall see what can be done."
He grinned, thinking to add a few things to Albin’s list of demands. "A few spare coins would 'urt no one either, milady."
She stormed off without answering him.
Colin skipped back to the courtyard. He could not wait to tell Albin that their plan had worked. It worked without flaw.
***
Blaise’s heart halted like a stallion suddenly brought to a stop after a charge. He thought Eliza would spot him in his hiding place behind the corner as he listened with bleeding insides of her betrayal.
Fortunately for him, she was too preoccupied with staring ahead as she marched away from her blackmailer to notice him. The little juggler was too pleased with himself to notice that someone had spied on them as he went back to the courtyard.
Blaise slid down the stone wall and clutched his chest. His attack in the woods, the stripping of his dignity and theft of family heirlooms...had been Eliza's doing?
He touched the spot behind his head where he'd been hit. A painful lump no longer sat there, but the spot burned, like the inside of his chest burned.
Of course, he should have seen it instantly. A man of that size outside could be the only one tall and strong enough to knock him from his horse.
He did not recognise the small, round man who begged for coins because of his hazy memory brought on by the attack on his head, but hearing his voice just now confirmed his identity. The singing man outside had to be the third who aided in beating Blaise into unconsciousness and leaving him for dead.
He clenched his fists until his nails bit his skin. His heart beat against his chest as though attempting to escape. He could not breathe. He would be ill.
Blaise spun where he sat, moving to his knees and resting his hot forehead against the cool stone. ‘Twas little comfort. Still clutching his aching heart, he fist flew to punch the wall.
CRACK.
He yelped as one of his knuckles burst. ‘Twas enough to make him forget the diseased hole eating away at his chest. He punched the wall again.
CRACK.
CRACK.
He should have known! He should never have trusted her and look what he'd done! Married her!
Good Lord. He married her. He fell in love with her, comforted her, and offered her every reward she could ever ask for. And she planned it all.
Nay. A voice in his head disagreed. It had to be false. Perhaps there was some explanation, something beneath the surface he had yet to see.
Blaise stood and left his hiding place. Cradling his broken hand, he searched out his wife.
***
Eliza ran as soon as she was out of sight from the little man, though with the way he spoke to her, she left feeling like the smaller one of the two.
She went back to the chamber she shared with Blaise and threw herself onto the bed where earlier she had slept. She never should have left it. What would she do? She could never tell anyone of this. Not Lady Gray, not Olma, certainly not Blaise. Not if she ever wished to keep his love for her intact.
"Eliza?"
She jerked and rolled. Blaise stood over the bed! Fright crept into her veins like winter snow that crept up on autumn. How had she not heard him enter the room? "How long have ye been standing there?"
He stood straight as he looked down upon her, as though surveying her. "I was wondering why ye haven't come out to the courtyard with me yet."
Her heart ceased its frantic beating. "Ah, yes, I am still not feeling well. I shall be down shortly."
His eyes softened. She wondered what had made them so hard. "Is anything the matter? Anything at all?"
He sat down and took her hand into his. Something akin to pleading entered his eyes.
Warm liquid touched her hand. Eliza looked down and gasped at his bleeding, swelling knuckles. “Yer hand!”
She rushed to the basin of water and took a rag. Wetting it, she returned to the bed. She winced sympathetically as she dabbed the blood away, revealing open cuts.
“How did this happen? Are ye hurt?”
He hesitated. “I punched a wall.”
She gaped at him. “Why ever would ye do such a thing? Are ye mad?”
“I was insulted.” He growled.
Eliza wrapped his hand in what she hoped was a tender motion. Understanding dawned upon her. “Ye heard guests speaking of yer mother?”
He said naught a word.
She brought his bandaged hand to her lips. “Do not listen to any words they say. Ye are wonderful, and better than any of them.”
He sighed, turning his eyes down to his ruined hand, the
n to her eyes. “Are ye certain nothing ails ye?”
She told as much of the truth as she could. “Not while ye are with me.”
He looped his arm around her back and began pulling her to the door with strange vigour. "Come with me then, the visiting jesters downstairs have been asking after yer health. I wish to assure them that ye are perfectly well and are able to witness anything they wish to perform."
Eliza dug her shoes into the rushes and held still despite the pressure he put against her back that urged her forward. "I said I was well, but not well enough to see any performance."
"Ah, shall I send them away then? After all, the entire purpose was so that they might amuse ye."
He could not send them away! They would squeal her secret! "Nay!"
He blinked at her, his expression perfectly calm, yet she detected a hint of pain behind his blue eyes. They reminded her of the sky before it cried rain.
"Ye wish them to stay?"
She had to look away from him. "Merely for however long it takes for my strength to build. Then I wish to see what they are capable of."
He nodded and dropped her hand. "Very well, Elizabeth, if that is yer wish."
Elizabeth? Whatever happened to Eliza? Or my love? Her insides exploded with fear as the only possibility came to her.
Nay. Despite his odd behaviour, she looked him in the eyes and saw no hint that he wished to lock her up or send her away. Surely he would do those things if he knew. Therefore he must not know of her betrayal.
Perhaps he was the one who was feeling ill. "Are ye well?"
He blinked. "What?"
She reached her hand up and touched his forehead. He jerked away, and she pulled back as though he had burned her.
"Are ye angry with me?" Another horrendous thought occurred to her. "Was last night..." Her face heated. She didn't even know if she could say it. "Was it not to yer satisfaction?"
He had been extremely attentive to her before, during, and after the deed had been done. Perhaps not all husbands behaved in such ways and he regretted putting in the effort.
