A Knight's Reward (12 page)

The Frenchman glanced at Dominic before half-turning toward the open doorway. “Was there aught in particular you wished to discuss with me?”

Naught!
Gisela’s mind shrieked.

Dominic’s head dipped in a determined nod. “I am looking to buy silk. Not any silk, mind, but the finest Eastern cloth. ’Tis of such wondrous quality, it feels like down against one’s skin.” He smiled. “Do you know where I can purchase some?”

Chapter Seven

Dominic carefully studied the Frenchman’s expression. He waited for some sign of deception, of a struggle to control a flare of surprise. The man’s eyelids did not even flicker with a hint of disquiet. Nor did his oily smile waver.

Gisela, however, seemed to grow more pale. Why? Mayhap the disagreement with Ewan had upset her more than Dominic realized.

Or, there was more to her dealings with Crenardieu than a simple commission. One not evident in her shop—not hanging from a peg on the wall, or spread out on the worktable. What was she sewing for him that he didn’t wish others to see? Undergarments?

Laughter tickled Dominic’s throat. Rubbing his hand over his jaw, he managed to suppress the chuckle.

“What color of silk do you require?” Crenardieu asked.

“Blue. The hue of cornflowers. ’Tis the color of my client’s lover’s eyes.” Geoffrey’s lady wife’s eyes, actually, but Crenardieu didn’t need that tidbit of information.

The Frenchman smoothed a crease from his cloak’s sleeve. “I do not have such cloth in my stock at the moment. However, I can make inquiries.”

His bland tone implied he wouldn’t expend much time or effort searching. Disappointment ran like cold rainwater down Dominic’s spine. Still, he steeled himself against revealing his dismay to this merchant, who seemed as trustworthy as a ravenous snake. Glancing at his nails, Dominic said, “Never mind. Mayhap one of the other merchants in Clovebury will assist me.”

The Frenchman’s lips flattened. “Monsieur de Terre, none have the suppliers or the resources that I do.”

Dominic barely resisted a grin. As he suspected, the Frenchman didn’t wish to lose the potential sale. He wanted to know if Dominic could pay his price.

“My client is very wealthy,” Dominic said. “He is most determined to have the blue silk.” With a lazy shrug, he added, “If I cannot find what I want here, I will go to London.”

“As I said, I will make inquiries.” Crenardieu hesitated, one hand in the air, his fingers splayed in contemplative silence. “If I do find cornflower blue silk—”

Dominic smiled. “I will be most grateful and in your debt. You may name your price, for I will pay it.”

“How shall I contact you? Are you lodging in the town?”

“Aye, at The Stubborn Mule Tavern.” Even as he spoke, Dominic tamped down unease. Crenardieu might send thugs to investigate him. However, ’twas a necessary risk, for he mustn’t give the Frenchman any reason to doubt he was a rich silk buyer. Crenardieu would expect a traveling merchant to lodge at the local tavern. “If I am not in my room,” Dominic added, “leave a message for me on the wooden board by the bar.”

“Very well.” Crenardieu gave an elegant bow that indicated, in its effortlessness, the high circles the Frenchman frequented. “Good day to you both.”

With a swirl of his cape, he walked out.

Silence, marked by the dust motes floating in the streaming sunlight, settled in the shop. Even Ewan, inside the house, seemed to have gone quiet.

Gisela stared at the doorway, her expression an odd blend of relief, regret, and . . . resignation.

“A charming man,” Dominic said, not bothering to suppress his sarcasm.

Gisela smoothed her hands over her gown. “A rich man,” she said quietly, “who has tremendous influence in Clovebury and throughout Moydenshire.”

He also has influence over you, Sweet Daisy.
The thought brought a surge of blazing jealousy—and protectiveness.

“He is a client of yours?” Dominic asked.

Her shoulders rose and fell on a sharp breath before she nodded stiffly. “He pays well. As I am certain you have noticed, there is a great deal Ewan and I need.”

“You should want for
naught
,” Dominic growled, unable to keep the anger from his tone.

Gisela stood very still. He sensed her drawing herself up, hardening her will against memories she loathed to share. “At one time,” she murmured, “I had all I ever wanted. I have tasted heaven, Dominic.” Her mouth trembled into a smile. “If that taste, however wondrous, is all I am given, then ’tis enough.”

Tears glistened in her eyes. Sunlight fingered in through the window to play over her hair and the delicate curves of her face. How lovely, yet sad, she looked.

Swallowing down an anguished groan, Dominic wondered when she had tasted such joy. With him? With the man she’d married but then had grown to fear? Had the bastard cherished her and manipulated her into loving him, and then crushed her?

He could not abide such a thought.

Their gazes locked. Her wide-eyed gaze shimmered. How beautiful she looked, proud, alone, caressed by the sunshine.

Only a few spaces stood between them. Dominic stepped closer. He had to. He couldn’t resist the desire to touch her. He yearned to hold her in his arms and soothe the torment in her eyes.

He reached for her, ignoring the twinge of his healing ribs, his hands splayed to slide around her waist. Her head tipped back, while her body swayed slightly, as though to accept his embrace. She looked up at him, her lips slightly parted. For a kiss.

For a kiss!

Blood pounded at his temple. His mouth flooded with the delicious, remembered taste of her. Gisela’s lips had opened like a flower bud beneath his. He had tasted her and drowned in her ambrosial perfection.

Desire sprang hot in his groin. Gisela said she had no husband. However, if she’d run away, she remained bound to the man by law. She still belonged to the husband she feared.

Step away!
his conscience shouted.
She is no longer yours to kiss. You did not marry her years ago, and now she is beyond your grasp.

How he ached to press his lips to hers. To again taste her sweet essence. Need rushed like floodwater through his veins, so excruciatingly powerful . . .

“Sweet Daisy,” he whispered.

She inhaled a shivered breath. Beneath the golden veil of her lashes, her eyes darkened with yearning. Ah, God, she wanted his kiss. Wanted it as much as he!

Dominic reached for her. Every muscle in his body anticipated her fragrant softness in his arms . . .

Her hands shot up, her fingers splayed like spent petals about to drop to the ground.

She denied him!
Denied him!

Fighting the surging heat inside him, he lowered his arms to his sides. “What—”

A scuffling noise came from behind him. He hadn’t noticed the sound before. Yet, she had.

Following her gaze, Dominic turned. Ewan stood in the doorway.

“Mama, is that man gone?”

Gisela’s head dipped in a jerky nod. With a swipe of her fingers, she dried her eyes and smiled at Ewan. Through months of practice, it seemed, she’d learned to hide her unhappiness from her son.

“I am hungry.”

As am I
, a voice inside Dominic growled.
Starved for my Sweet Daisy’s kiss
.

Gisela crossed to the little boy. “I will fetch you some bread and honey after my appointment with the blacksmith’s wife.”

“The blacksmith’s wife?” Dominic ground out.

Gisela’s eyes flared with surprise, no doubt because of his surly tone. She gestured to the garment draped over her worktable. “I promised to finish her gown this week. She is coming by for a fitting.”

Footsteps crunched outside the doorway and then a woman walked in, her sturdy shoes rapping on the planks. Her face as brown and wrinkled as a dried apple, she smiled at Gisela. “’Allo.”

Gisela smiled back. “Good day.”

Go away, Apple Wench. Leave us to finish what we must say to one another
.

Biting down the words, Dominic said to Gisela. “I will take my leave and return at a more convenient time. I will see you anon.” He nodded to Ewan. “Little warrior.”

The boy scowled at him. “You cannot go. You promised to tell me about the maiden and the dragon.”

Dominic couldn’t resist a grin. “I did. And I shall, when I next see you.”

He strode past the woman, now chatting to Gisela, and out into the dusty street. A horse-drawn cart rumbled by, its wooden wheels grinding up a cloud of dust. Waving it out of his face, he headed down the street toward the shops Gisela had led him past the other day.

Forcing aside tantalizing thoughts of kissing Gisela, he recalled Crenardieu strolling into and out of her premises. Mentally blocking out the cacophonous street sounds around him, Dominic pictured the Frenchman’s stance, gait, and mannerisms. With each stride, Dominic’s posture changed. His strides lengthened to convey the arrogance of a wealthy man who used his coin to manipulate those around him.

Dominic smiled. Astonishing how coin had the power to win over a man.

Or, indeed, a woman.

***

“Mama, when will we see Dominic again?”

“Hmm?” Gisela murmured, a length of thread between her lips.

Perched on the wooden stool in her shop, his legs swinging to and fro, Ewan set his chin in his hand. Candlelight played over his features. “Mama, you are not listening to me.”

A weary smile tugged at her mouth. Withdrawing the thread, she set it down along with her bone needle on the almost finished gown on the table. Ewan had been very good all day. She’d closed up her premises a short while ago, which meant she was due to give him some attention—and fetch him some food.

“I do not know when Dominic will visit again,” she said, crossing to Ewan’s side. “He is a busy man.”

“Doing what?”

Looking for thieves, a search that might lead him here to the hidden silks
. Ignoring her nagging conscience, she said, “He had tasks to attend in the town.”

“What tasks?” Her son’s curious gaze urged her to blurt out all she knew.

“If Dominic wishes you to know, he will tell you.”

Ewan pouted. “Do you know?”

She could not resist a smile. “Aye.”

The little boy slid down from the stool and set his hands on his hips. “Why did he not tell me? I am a fellow warrior. I would not tell.”

“Of course, you would not.” She winked at him. “You are very good at keeping secrets. I am proud that, as you promised, you have not told anyone my true name. You are indeed a champion of keeping secrets.”

Ewan squirmed. His face reddened. “Well . . .”

“Well, what?”

“
Some
secrets.”

“You have not revealed to anyone where we put your special baby blanket. You remember, the one with the embroidered hen and chick on the front.”

His gaze shifted to the other side of the room. “Um . . .”

“Did you?”

“I showed Ada. She said sometimes she is cold at night. I thought she might like to borrow it.”

“Oh, Button. That was sweet of you.”

His little shoulders thrust back. “I will be a knight one day. ’Tis my duty to be kind to maidens.”

Ada, who had birthed six children and survived two husbands, was far from a “maiden.” Gisela fought to suppress a giggle.

Ewan’s mouth tightened. “I also showed her . . .”

“Aye?”

“Your necklace.”

Gisela gasped. Shock and anger swirled inside her like a flurry of fallen petals. “Ewan!”

“I was careful, Mama.”

“I asked you not to touch it, Button,” she said, unable to keep the frustration from her voice. How foolish to cherish something as common as a daisy chain necklace . . . But, she did.

“Mama, I am grown up now. I know how to be careful.”

“The dry petals are very fragile.” Her stomach twisted at the thought of the delicate flowers ruined. “Ewan, you were wrong to disobey me.”

He blinked hard. “The necklace is fine. I promise.”

She must check. She had not looked at it since Dominic found her in the tavern’s stable.

Catching hold of Ewan’s hand, Gisela pulled him through the doorway into the house. She crossed to her pallet, raised the top edge, and withdrew a plain wooden box. Kneeling on the pallet, she raised the box lid.

Inside, atop an assortment of other mementoes, was a folded swatch of linen. She carefully opened it, revealing a dried daisy chain. Shriveled and spidery, the blooms still held a hint of their snowy white color.

Ewan knelt beside her. “See?”

“I see,” she said softly, remembering how Dominic had lovingly made her the daisy chain. “Still, you are not to touch it.”

“Why not? ’Tis just a silly string of flowers.”

Gisela rewrapped the necklace and returned it to the box. “Nay, Button, ’tis far more. The day I . . . received this necklace is the day I conceived you.”

His eyes widened. Then he frowned. “What does consee . . . cons—”

Out in her tailor’s shop, a knock sounded on the door.

Gisela sighed. “Who could that be? Ada is not coming by this evening. She is helping to deliver a babe.”

“Dominic?” Ewan jumped to his feet.

“I shall see. You stay here.” After tucking the box back in its hiding place, she walked through to her shop, pausing to shut the door to her home behind her. She crossed her unlit premises, set a hand on the outer door’s handle, and called, “Who is there?”

“A handsome messenger with a surprise.”

Dominic
.

Her pulse jolted. Joy and desire rushed through her. She shouldn’t be so thrilled. He was not her lover and never would be again. Their near embrace earlier—caused by frayed emotions and revived memories of their past, lost love—were best forgotten. Still, her hand shook when she drew the bolts and unlocked the door.

The scent of food—warm bread, fresh pastries, and roasted meat—wafted inside before the door fully opened. Still clad in his fine garments, Dominic stood on the threshold. Tucked under his arm, he carried a bulging cloth sack.