A Knight's Reward Read online

  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.

  “Hello again,” he murmured.

  “Dominic.”

  With a slight flinch—no doubt because his ribs still hurt—he lifted up the bag. “I hope you have not eaten. I brought enough fare to feed the king’s army”—he winked—”and their hungry hounds.”

  Gisela bit her bottom lip. She should protest his kindness. If she accepted his generous offer, she became indebted to him, and she couldn’t afford to repay him for the food.

  Thrusting up a hand, Dominic shook his head. “I know what you are thinking. Please, do not refuse my gift. ’Tis freely offered, with no demands or persuasions.”

  How well he still knew her. She couldn’t hold back a little laugh.

  Oh, the fare smelled heavenly. And ’twould be so much nicer than eating the hard, day-old bread.

  Gisela motioned him inside.

  He brushed past her into the unlit shop, bringing with him the mouthwatering scents. She pushed the door shut, secured it, and inhaled deeply once again.

  “Do not linger, Gisela,” Dominic called over his shoulder while he strode toward her home. “The food will be cold before you get to it.”

  She shook her head. How deftly he took control of the situation.

  As he still had a hold on her heart.

  Before she took two steps, the door to her home crashed open. Ewan appeared in the embrasure, his toy sword clutched in his hands. Feet planted apart, his weapon poised to attack, he yelled, “Who goes there?”

  Her hand over her pounding heart, Gisela said, “Button, you know ’tis Dominic.”

  Dominic raised his hand, curtailing her protest. “’Tis I, Sir Dominic.” Not a trace of mockery underscored his words.

  “Sir Dominic who?” Ewan shouted.

  “Dominic de Terre, sworn knight of King Richard.”

  “Hmm,” the little boy said, sounding highly suspicious. Adjusting his hold on his sword, he said, “Come into the light, where I can see you better.”

  “As you command,” Dominic replied.

  Gisela rolled her eyes. “Ewan, stop being silly. You know Dominic. These dramatics are unnecessary.”

  “On the contrary. He is protecting his home and a lovely maiden,” Dominic said, halting in the swath of light spilling into the shadowed shop. “Do you accept me, little warrior?”

  Ewan squished up his nose. “We-elll�
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  “Let me in, and you may have two custard tarts.”

  “Custard tarts?” The boy beamed. “Two?”

  “Aye. As well as sausage pastries.”

  Ewan immediately lowered his sword. “Come in, Sir Dominic.”

  “Why, thank you, little warrior.”

  “On one condition,” Ewan said, holding up a finger.

  “Hmm?”

  “You must tell me your story. The one—”

  “About the dragon and the maiden.” Dominic laughed. “Agreed.”

  With an earsplitting whoop, Ewan scampered away, swishing his sword to and fro.

  “I hope you will keep your promise,” Gisela murmured. “Otherwise, he will be a very unhappy little boy.”

  “I will keep my promise,” Dominic said, entering her house. He headed to the table, set down the sack, and began to unload the contents—as though he belonged in her home.

  Shrugging aside a peculiar tingle, Gisela closed the door and strolled to the table, her gaze upon the cloth-wrapped packages.

  After tossing his sword on his pallet, Ewan hurried toward the food. “What did you bring? Where are the custard tarts?”

  “Here, I believe.” With a flourish, Dominic drew apart the edges of the cloth. “There you are, my sweeties.” He picked up a larger package and opened it. “Chicken, freshly roasted.” Another package emerged from the sack. “Fresh bread from the baker’s oven.”

  Gisela’s mouth watered. “How did you visit the baker’s shop? He must have recognized you.”

  Dominic’s lips curved in a smug grin. “A young woman tended the shop, likely his daughter.” He winked. “I plied my charms on her. She was akin to quivering jelly when I left.”

  He was teasing. Still, ridiculous jealousy bubbled inside Gisela. “I see.”

  Dominic winked again. “A well-deserved ploy, I vow, to get what I want.”

  His voice softened to the whisper of silk. A sluggish tension coursed through Gisela, tightening her belly with anticipation. She tried to resist—oh, how she tried—but she could not deny the pull of his stare. Their gazes locked. Held.

  Gisela’s breath caught. Her whole being felt suspended, captivated by Dominic’s gaze, poised to dive into something wonderful.

  Something forbidden.

  A loud thud, thud echoed, akin to her heart falling and shattering on the floor by her feet. Again, Ewan pounded his fists on the table. “What else did you bring?”

  Dominic’s attention slid away, but the slow, sensual awareness still glided in Gisela’s veins. Picking up a smaller, cloth-enclosed package, he said, “Cherries, dates—”

  “Dates?” Gisela exclaimed. “They are very expensive.”

  “—and honey.” Dominic withdrew a large earthenware pot.

  Gisela sank onto the nearest bench. “Oh, my. What a feast.”

  “Fit for a lady,” Dominic said, “and her knight.”

  Delight warred inside her, along with a crushing sense of dismay. What a chivalrous gesture, for Dominic to bring such a meal. Yet, she couldn’t easily forget ’twas all a pantomime in which they pretended to be what they were not. She was no lady, Ewan no knight, and Dominic no rich, cloth-buying merchant.

  How many nights she’d lain awake, listening to her son’s steady breathing, wishing she could give him a better life. And for Dominic to be able to cover the table with treats so far beyond her means—

  “Can we eat now?” Ewan asked.

  Dominic chuckled. “Take what you like.”

  The little boy’s hands plunged into the chicken. He grabbed a leg, slick with grease, and sank his teeth into the flesh. “Mmm.”

  “Slow down,” Gisela said. With a wry laugh, she realized he probably hadn’t heard her over his delighted sighs and groans.

  “What tempts you?” Dominic murmured, pushing the chicken toward her.

  Her mouth filled with the promise of delicious tastes. She selected a chicken leg, drew it to her lips, and inhaled the scent of succulent meat. The last time she’d eaten chicken was at a feast held by one of Ryle’s merchant friends. In January.

  She bit off a morsel and chewed. Her eyes drifted closed.

  The bench creaked beside her.

  “Good?” Dominic asked.

  “The best fare I have tasted in months.”

  He smiled at her in a kind, but knowing way. She averted her gaze to look again at the moist chicken. At what she’d denied herself and her son so she could save for their move north. For good reason, her conscience reminded her. All the more reason to indulge now.

  Suddenly, she could no longer hold back the urge to seize the temptations before her. She bit off more chicken, chewed, and then snatched another bite, ignoring the juice running down her chin. “Mmm. This tastes wonderful.”

  “Mama, taste the dates.” Ewan chewed noisily. “And the sausage pastries.”

  He’d taken one bite of the chicken, one from the pastries, and was reaching for another date, his mouth smeared with evidence of all he’d tasted.

  Wiping her chin, Gisela laughed.

  Around a mouthful of semi-chewed fruit, he said, “Dominic, tell the story.”

  “Button, mayhap Dominic wishes to eat first.”

  “’Tis all right.” He tore off a chunk of bread. “’Tis a fine moment to tell my tale. Did I tell you ’twas told to me by my mother? ’Tis one of my favorites.” His voice softened. “I will always be grateful she shared her stories with me. One day, I will pass them on to my children.”

  Gisela swallowed hard, for grief etched Dominic’s features. Clearly, his mother’s death still pained him. Gisela remembered him speaking fondly of his mother, of how she’d bravely faced the illness that had sapped her strength. “I am sorry she died,” Gisela whispered.

  “As am I.” He shrugged and the anguish in his gaze faded. “Long ago, she used to say, there lived a very beautiful woman. Tall and slender, she was the loveliest in all the land.”

  “Like my mama.” Ewan grinned around a big mouthful of chicken.

  Dominic nodded before scratching his chin. “Somehow, I cannot remember the woman’s name. Let me think—”

  “Gisela!” the little boy yelled.

  Heat warmed her face. “Nay, I do not think—”

  Dominic snapped his fingers. “Well done, Ewan. Her name was Gisela.”

  She snorted. “I suppose in your tale, roosters could lay silver coins?”

  Dominic grinned and swallowed his bite of bread. “Her beauty was so extraordinary, the villagers knew she was the one—the maiden to be left as an offering for the fearsome dragon ravaging their lands.”

  Ewan’s eyes grew enormous.

  A shiver trailed down Gisela’s spine, as though she felt Ryle’s hands upon her. The way Dominic had said “dragon” suggested his story held a hidden meaning.

  “The woman refused her fate. However, the villagers feared the dragon’s wrath. They believed giving her to the beast was the only way to pacify it. Before she could run away, they tied her hands, dragged her to the old oak tree near the dragon’s cave, and bound her to the trunk. They ignored her pleas for mercy and left her to become the creature’s slave.”

  Ewan grimaced. “Ugh.”

  “Indeed.” Dominic pulled off another morsel of bread and held it between his fingers. “The beast was hideous. As big as a stable and a hundred times as smelly.”

  Ewan clapped a hand over his nose. “Ew!”

  “The dragon had glowing yellow eyes, huge fanged teeth, and claws like sharpened daggers. When Gisela saw it lumbering toward her, she almost fainted with fright. She tried to get free, but her bonds held fast. Breathing fire and smoke, the beast mocked her attempts to escape. It slashed her bindings with its claws, picked her up in its jaws, and carried her back to its cave. There, she became its slave. She toiled amongst the bones of its prey, always aware the dragon might gobble her up, too.”

  “She could run away,” Ewan said. “When it slept.”

 
As I ran, Gisela thought, while Ryle dozed, slumped over in a drunken stupor, the bloody knife resting on the table beside him.

  His expression grim, Dominic shook his head. “She longed for her freedom, but the dragon kept her chained. When it no longer chained her, it kept close watch upon her. Only after many weeks did the beast cease watching her so closely. One night, she slipped away, taking a lantern to light her way.”

  As I fled, Button, with you in my arms and Ryle’s knife in my bag. I sold his wretched dagger to buy you food. I went hungry, but I did not care. I cared only that you were safe.

  “What happened?” Ewan asked.

  “She fled far away, where she thought the dragon would never find her. She began a new life. She met a young farmer and fell in love. For the first time in months, she was happy.”

  Refusing to look at Dominic, Gisela discarded the leg bone and took another piece of chicken. Strange, how his tale seemed to mirror her life. A coincidence. Naught more.

  Ewan groaned. “You are not going to tell about them kissing, are you? Ugh! What about the dragon?”

  Dominic laughed. “The beast was furious when it realized Gisela was gone. It stormed off into the surrounding lands, looking for her, destroying all in its path. One day, it found Gisela and her beloved farmer.”

  “Uh-oh,” Ewan said.

  “Aye. The dragon demanded she come back to its lair. Gisela refused. Desperate to help her, the young farmer offered the dragon as many sheep as it wanted to eat, in exchange for her freedom. However, the selfish beast coveted her. It narrowed its eyes and roared fire.”

  As Ryle will roar at me when he finds me—right before he kills me.

  Gisela sensed Dominic’s gaze upon her. The chicken in her mouth seemed tasteless, its flavor obliterated by bitter fear.

  “Gisela could not go back to her life of slavery,” Dominic went on. “She would never leave her young farmer, and she did not want the dragon to kill him or anyone else. In secret, she took one of the farmer’s knives. When the dragon tried to take her in its jaws, she pulled out the dagger and plunged it into the beast’s heart. The mighty dragon bellowed and thrashed its tail, but she had delivered a mortal blow. It died. Gisela and her farmer rejoiced.”