Lady Thief - By Rizzo Rosko Page 0,97

Blaise would likely see to it that she suffered it.

"Where is my father?" Blaise demanded.

"Right here."

Elizabeth spun at the sound of the commanding voice. An older man with blond hair with flecks of grey in it approached, his back straight and face that of concern. A child of five or six ran at his side to keep up with the longer legs of his father before picking up speed and rushing to Blaise.

Blaise knelt down and threw his arms open for the squealing child to rush into. “Blaise!” The boy said. “Where were you?”

Blaise stroked the blond head. “Just having a pleasant walk.”

“Aye, too pleasant by the look of things.” The knights stepped aside for the older lord, and when he was in front of them he eyed his eldest son with curiosity.

Elizabeth's mouth nearly dropped. This man was his father? She was sure she had made a mistake because they looked nothing alike.

Lord Gray stood tall and proud before his son, but not taller, and the older man sported hair that spoke of soft sand which suggested Blaise inherited his hideous hair from his mother. And while Eliza could never accuse Blaise of appearing skinny, he almost appeared small when his shoulders were compared to the broad mass of his father’s.

As if hearing her thoughts and becoming insulted by them, Blaise gripped her hand and yanked her towards the older man. "Father, this is lady Eliza Hollow—”

“Elizabeth.” She corrected.

Blaise’s lips curled. “Elizabeth. My betrothed." He hissed the last part much the same as he had hissed her name, squeezing her hand as he did so. "Eliza, this is my father, lord William Gray."

Had Blaise not introduced them Elizabeth would have gone on believing she'd made a mistake in his identity. She curtsied low, wishing to avoid any questions the man might give her following his shocked gaze. He surely did not expect his son to confess to being betrothed to a woman who looked as though she sat below a serf on the grand scale of things.

She groaned at the mental image she gave herself, wishing with all her might that she had time to throw away the ragged thing she wore so that she might be dressed properly like she planned.

Lord Gray peered behind her instead and addressed Blaise. Elizabeth’s knees shook when a pleased smile lifted his lips. "Betrothed?"

She couldn’t believe it. Was the man not angry?

"Father, may I have a private audience with you in your solar?" Blaise rushed his words, grabbing Elizabeth's hand in his iron grasp again. She fought to keep from showing any pain as his hand squeezed too hard.

William blinked, seeming to sense the desperate mood surrounding his son. "Very well, but I want you dressed first."

Blaise looked down at himself, as though remembering how little he wore. He released Elizabeth's hand and rushed across the courtyard.

Elizabeth rubbed her wrist, her entire hand cold now that his firm grip no longer kept it hot.

Lord Gray put a gentle hand over her shoulder and pulled her along with him. "Come, lady Elizabeth, I shall introduce you to the mistress of the house."

Her body tensed at his unexpected touch and soft voice, especially since her crusty garments were now ruining his clean clothes. But he did not seem to mind, nor did he give another glance to the hideous gown she wore with its dirty hems and tears. Indeed, he did not even hesitate as he led her in the same direction Blaise had run off in.

His words of being introduced to the lady of the castle finally reached her. Elizabeth jerked to a stop in panic. "Nay, milord, I—" She cleared her throat and forced calm into her heart. "Please, milord, may I dress first? I am appalled in the manner I presented myself to you and would like to do better for your wife."

He laughed. Laughed! "I do not believe Marianne will much care how ye look, but I shall send you off with a maid if it calms your soul."

He spoke in such a gentle manner that Elizabeth already felt at ease in his presence, as though she’d known him her entire life.

Elizabeth had always been taught that wealthy men, lords, and ladies were cruel beings who did not much care for pleasantries unless they were directed towards themselves. Her mother told her that they took what they wanted, and did not care a whiff of anyone else.

She had always known it had been a mistake. The nobles were called nobles