by Rizzo Rosko
Blaise straightened himself and allowed his irritation to consume him all over again. He marched passed his father and knocked the door open with his fist before charging out.
***
William shook his head as Blaise went.
He knew he could have handled it better, but he'd thought he was making progress with his son, had thought that Eliza had made progress with him. Not so, it seemed. Whatever steps forward had turned into backward leaps when Blaise discovered her secret.
He outright refused to see reason.
Sighing, William sat down at his writing table and cleared away the spilled wine so he could prepare his next letter.
***
The doors to the stables that were usually held open now that the days were warm again were shut. Blaise did not care why as he slammed his open palms into them, forcing them open. His one hand had healed completely, affording him the action of pounding on doors without pain.
He stopped. All anger splashing out of him to be replaced with shock.
James and Olma leapt away from each other at the sight of him. Their hands wiped at their mouths as though erasing the kiss from their lips would erase it from Blaise's memory.
"Milord." James coughed and straightened himself. "Can I be of service?"
Olma fled the stables, running passed Blaise and out of sight. It did not escape Blaise's notice how James' eyes followed her regretfully.
Blaise’s mouth dropped. "Did I just imagine yer hands all over a servant?" He asked, searching about. "And where are the grooms?"
James shuffled his feet like a scolded child. He shook his head. "I sent them away so that she and I could be alone, and ye did not imagine anything."
Blaise struggled to find any reason as to why James would do such a thing. He breathed a sigh that everything in the world had not suddenly turned upside down when he found one. "I see, ye have decided to take her as yer mistress."
James' face heated, his cheek tightened and twitched while he kicked some stale hay and dirt with his boot. "Nay, I will not degrade her like that."
The only other meaning possible dawned on him. Blaise sputtered. "So ye will degrade yerself by wedding a servant? Ye shall have nothing."
"I have had nothing for a long time, and yet I have survived it.” James’ defensive voice became soft. “With her at least I shall feel as though I have everything."
The pride in his voice…the man sounded as though he spent quite some time thinking on this.
"'Tis because of Eliza's meddling that ye are making such a rash decision.” Blaise said, though he confused himself. Was he reasoning with himself, or James? “Had it not been for her ye would have found a proper bride at the celebration Marianne arranged instead of settling for a servant."
Scowling eyes appeared with James' twitching cheek. "Milord, I beg of ye to not speak of Olma in that fashion."
Blaise threw his hands in the air. "Ye are making a mistake in choosing Olma to be yer wife. Had Eliza not—"
"I make this decision not because of yer wife, milord, but out of love."
James' words halted anything else Blaise would have said. Everyone seemed to be throwing that word at him lately.
He laughed, madly. "Ye do not love her. Ye desire her. Eliza threw that at ye and ye succumbed to it. Once ye wed her ye will grow bored and regret making this choice."
James shook his head. "Milord, ye are wrong. Lady Elizabeth did indeed make my infatuation more obvious, aye, but 'twas always there. She spared me from making a mistake. I adore Olma above all others and if I do not have her then I will truly have nothing."
Blaise shook his head, denying the possibility of what he was hearing. "Ye do not have to do this."
James smiled patiently. "Ye are wrong again, milord. I do have to do this."
James walked out of the stables, a happiness Blaise had never seen glowed about him. He left Blaise alone with the horses and his thoughts.
***
Nicholas took his seat at the table, sitting on the bench next to Eliza instead of in his usual chair.
“This arrived from Graystone.”
Eliza lifted her head as he unrolled the bit of parchment.
Nicholas glanced at it. “‘Tis from Lord Gray.”
Eliza sank down that the message wasn’t from Blaise, but continued to eye Nicholas with urgency and impatience.
Though she had begin to learn to read since living at Graystone, and then later after her father took her in, she had yet to master it and Nicholas always read the news that concerned her.
Her spirits shook like fearful lambs when his soft eyes made their apology to her before he spoke. "It seems Blaise will attempt to convince the bishop to annul yer marriage."
Eliza gasped, her hands flying to her mouth. "But, how can that be? We have consummated our marriage! Often!"
Nicholas held up his hand for her silence, his face pained at hearing his daughter describe private marital details to him. "I can see that, dearest. He means to use the fact that I am his godfather as grounds for the annulment."
Eliza's heart sped up at the thought of no longer being married to Blaise, no longer having her chance to prove her love to him. Time had passed, a lot of time, but it did not mean she gave up hope that he would one day forgive her.
"Is it possible?"
Nicholas sighed and glanced at the words on the parchment again. "I do not know. If it does not and he is desperate enough he could simply have a midwife testify that ye are still pure in the ways of the bed. That ye refused to give yer chastity to him."
"Refused—" Eliza looked down upon herself. "That is not possible!"
"Again, I see that as plain as the daylight outside, but ye are not required to be there to prove Blaise wrong."
Nicholas shook his head. “Lady Claire is his likely choice. Her parents will not fight against the match. They will wish them to be wed as quickly as—” He stopped himself, as if only realizing then that he was speaking out loud.
Eliza's bottom lips trembled. Her hands wrapped protectively around the swelling in her middle where her child slept.
Her father wrapped his arms wrap around her for comfort but they did little to still her quaking shoulders. “I am sorry dearest. Do not cry. I did not intend to be cruel.”
His words did not reach her ears. Blaise wanted nothing to do with her, and now she would be alone for the remainder of her life, surviving off of the generosity of a man she had once thought so little of.
Abruptly, Nicholas released her and slammed his fists onto the table, rattling the plates and goblets and bringing the heads up of any servants who bustled about.
"It won't be done! I'll not have him toss ye aside like some filth for another!"
He rose to his feet but Eliza grabbed his hands before he could leave the table. "Ye mustn't do anything!"
His face did not soften. "I'll not hurt the boy, just beat some sense into him and drag him back here."
"No!" she shouted.
Nicholas stopped trying to remove her hands from his and stared at her incredulously. "No?" He sat down next to her again. "Do ye not want the little one to have a father?" He asked, pointing at her rounded belly.
Her hands found the swelling and cupped it lovingly. "Aye, I would, but not if it means that the father will not love him or me."
"He had better!" Nicholas boomed.
“Father,” Eliza started. She didn’t use the word often but when she did it captured his entire attention, which was exactly what she needed right now. “How many messengers have I sent to Graystone? How many of them have been answered?”
“Gray and his wife have been very loving in their replies.”
‘‘Twas not them I spoke of.” She whispered.
Nicholas sighed and sank back to the bench. “Aye. I know.”
"I will not force Blaise to be my husband if he does not wish it. My child shall be brought up properly, with love by me and ye. If Blaise will not have me then 'twill have to be enough."
Nicholas folded his arms. "I would never treat a woman near to my heart in such a fashion. 'Tis a crime. A crime! He needs to be aware of his child."
"He will." Eliza insisted, though she did not look her father in the eyes when she said it. "I will simply wait for the right time."
Nicholas took one of her hands and cradled it in his. "Even if the right time to reveal his child to him is the wrong time for ye?"
Eliza forced a smile through her tears. "'Twas the wrong time for me from the beginning. What I did, regardless of the reason, was wrong. I see that now. If Blaise will not have me, then I shall not force his hand."
“I do not want ye to repeat yer mother’s mistake.”
Eliza’s cheeks coloured at his softly spoken words. “That will not happen. Blaise shall know, just...not now.”
Nicholas sighed and released her before standing. "If that is yer will.”
Eliza also stood. Her argument had mentally exhausted her, and with the added weight she had to carry, 'twas enough to make her yearn for her bed. "Thank ye. I'll go and rest a moment now. I am tired."
"Rest well." Nicholas said as she went.
***
He waited until his daughter was out of sight before he left the great hall in the direction of his private chamber and the solar that connected to it. He stopped suddenly. Nay, this could not simply be told in a letter. He'd kept Eliza's secret for so long due to her wishes, but no more.
She might not wish for Blaise to know the truth, but what of William and Marianne? Certainly they had to know that a grandchild would make an appearance.
Nicholas turned and ran in the direction of his stables, arranged for his best horse to be made ready, and set off on his journey.
‘Twould take him less than an hour if he rode hard enough. Eliza would sleep for much longer than it took for him to get to Graystone and back again with Blaise, even if he had to take the stubborn man as his captive.
William would allow it under the circumstances, he was sure.
***
From her window Eliza watched her father ride out of the stables and through the castle gates as though he were in a race. She sighed, moved to her bed and sat.
The man loved her, but he thought of her as a fool it seemed. The only thing that surprised her was that he waited this long to rush off and bring her husband to her.
Eliza slammed her fist into the feather mattress. She fooled no-one. She was a fool, and she had no right to ask her father to keep her secret while she waited for Blaise to forgive her.
Seeing Blaise again would be both a joy and a terror, and Eliza did not know which emotion to hold closer to her heart as the time to meet with her husband drew nearer. The thought rid her of her earlier fatigue and knew she would get no sleep.
She ached. All over. Walking usually helped with that. Eliza lifted herself to her feet and left for the courtyard. She breathed in the cool spring air, allowing it to refresh her like water before taking her walk, which was more of a clumsy waddle than a walk.
Nicholas’ courtyard was comparably smaller than the one back at Graystone, but Eliza enjoyed it regardless. Indeed, Nicholas’ castle was more of a wooden fortress with a single stone tower. Much different from the stone monster where she had briefly lived.
Eliza sighed as she watched the men go about their business. Servants and carpenters busy at work, children who followed their mothers with the laundry, and even the men at arms. Everything was different. Every face, every sight, and every scent.
She missed the scent of Graystone. Nicholas’ keep held a scent that reminded her of the forest, likely because ‘twas made of more wood than stone.
Most of all she missed Blaise’s scent. She missed sleeping in his bed, she longed for their playful banter, and their dances.
Her father did leave to retrieve her angry husband, so there was still hope to be had. Still, she wondered...
“For the last time, be off before we shoot ye!”
Eliza spun. The angered yelling of the knight brought her out of her woeful thoughts and made her see the crowd of men gathering at the top of the gate.
“Who is out there?” She called.
Every man atop the battlements looked down, some more briefly than others, at the sound of her voice.
“‘Tis naught that ye should be concerned about, milady. Simply a—”
A desperate voice on the other side of the gate called to her. As there was no gatehouse to create more distance, only a single wooden barrier, the voice came to her strong, clear, and familiar.
“Lady Elizabeth! Please allow me entrance. ‘Tis of great importance!”
As though the voice had the power to shove her, she stumbled backwards. Her eyes found those of the knights atop the battlements when she righted herself.
The leader of the men worried his bottom lip. “We had been given orders to not allow him entrance, milady.”
“Orders?” She sputtered. “‘Tis not the first time he has been out there, then?”
Almost hesitantly, the knight shook his head. “Nay, milady, he has shown his face before.”
Eliza frowned and eyed gate, wishing she could see through it. Would Sir Ian look the same? Or would his face be as disfigured as she had imagined after his beating?
She made up her mind in that instant. If he was so desperate to give her an apology, she wanted to see his face to determine his sincerity. “Let him enter.”
“Milady!”
She cut him off before he could protest. “Open the gate.”
Chapter Seventeen
Blaise watched as Marianne gently deposited Henry into Edward’s arms. The boy’s wish to hold his younger brother finally came true with the act, but only because Marianne had allowed it, likely because Henry could now hold his own head without her support, and she still hovered protectively over her youngest.
Edward’s grin took over his entire face as Henry reached up and grasped his hair.
Blaise smiled as well. He knew Edward delighted at no longer being the youngest son in the family, and now that he held the honorary title of 'elder brother,' he walked with a proud air of a boy who suddenly became a responsible man over night.
Henry squawked in Edward's hold, and turned his head to Marianne as though begging her to rescue him from his brother's clumsy clutches.
"Be gentle with him." Marianne chided softly, taking the infant back and holding him close to her breast where he settled.
"When will he be able to come and play with Blaise and me?" Edward asked, still staring at his brother.
"Not for a few years yet." Marianne said. She held Henry out for Blaise to take. He folded his arms tighter around his chest and shook his head.
Henry did not seem to mind as Marianne put him back to lay against her chest, though she did send him a questioning look. "Ye have not held him once since his birth."
"And I never intend to."
"He is yer brother."
Marianne had different ideas about rearing her children than other women. She insisted that infants be able to stretch and crawl wherever they pleased, doing whatever they wished. She had to have Henry in her arms, or in her sights, at all times. Blaise hardly knew how his father handled it.
"So is Edward, and I never picked him up until his second year."
Edward's eyes grew round before darkening. "Ye never held me?" The boy stomped his foot on top of Blaise's.
Blaise roared and jumped up. The new throbbing in his toas fuelled his anger. "Little brat! I'll teach ye—"
Marianne grabbed him by the ear before he could lunge and threw him back down to the bench. She remained standing as she glared at Blaise and her son. "Ye shall not lay a finger on him. Edward, yer father shall hear of yer behaviour tonight."
Henry laughed and clapped his hands together, a trick he’d recently learned. Edward fell at Marianne's knees to beg, clutching her gown in his little fingers but she would not be bought.
Blaise watched their banter until the
world around him became a haze hidden behind his thoughts.
'Twas not that he held no love for Henry. Nay, 'twas impossible to not adore the little survivor who lived through his birth and grew stronger with every month that passed, who would grow into another replica of his father, like Edward.
Nay. 'Twas merely that he felt more and more like an interloper in William's castle.
Though William insisted that Blaise was his son and heir, he could still not shake the feeling of being an outsider.
Though, perhaps it had naught to do with that. The conversation where William wrapped his hands around Blaise’s neck had not been the last where they had spoken of Blaise’s mother. But it had been the last where a brawl had nearly taken place.
With every talk Blaise had grown more and more comfortable, able to accept the things he could not change. He’d slowly begun to forgive his mother. So what was this intrusive ache that slipped into his chest?
Watching Marianne with his brothers, loving them as well as William, served to only deepen the lonely pit in his heart. The reminder that he'd lost the chance to have the same. Perhaps that was the source.
"Blaise?"
He blinked at the hand waving in his face. His vision focused on the pitying blue-grey eyes that stared into his soul. He could not form the energy to scowl at her.
"Are ye ill?"
He did manage to yank his head away when she tried to feel his forehead.
"I am perfectly well." He snapped. He searched around the chamber for the usual distraction to awkward moments and did not find him. "Where is Edward?"
She leaned away and squinted her eyes suspiciously. "He ran off to search for more trouble before I could give him another scolding. Which is just as well I suppose since I do not want him hearing of our conversation."
He tensed. "What is the matter with our conversation?" He could not think of any heated arguments he had with her in recent memory. Arguing with his step-mother had lost its flavour, as everything had these past few months.
"Nothing at all, yet. I wish to discuss Eliza with ye.”
