A Knight's Reward (23 page)

Nay. Ewan was his son. In his gut, Dominic knew.

Fury still simmered that she hadn’t divulged the news earlier. But, weaving into his anger, was a sense of wonder and—

“Dominic?”

He half-glanced at Gisela and tried very hard not to look at her mouth. Her lips were as much temptation as if she stood before him naked.

“What are you going to do?”

She spoke bravely, but he caught the anxiety threading through and around each word.

She fell back. A few paces ahead, he turned to look at her. A sudden memory of her on the day they’d said good-bye superimposed itself over her standing in the shadowed meadow.

Aware their voices might carry to the road, he crossed the trampled grasses back to her. In hushed tones, he said, “We will return to your shop, where you will show me the silk.”

Her stare did not waver. “What will you do then? Tell Lord de Lanceau?”

Dominic nodded. “I must.”

“Will I be”—she hesitated—”arrested? Will I be imprisoned in his dungeon?”

“I do not know.” An honest, if vague, answer. As much as Dominic could tell her right now.

He knew Geoffrey well enough to plead for Gisela, to insist her actions were those of a mother desperate to protect her son.

Dominic swallowed.
His
son.

Geoffrey also was the father of a young boy, his lady wife pregnant with their second child. Geoffrey would understand a parent’s protective instincts. Apart from that, Dominic couldn’t say what his lord would believe, or what might transpire.

“Will he take Ewan from me?” Gisela asked, her voice as thin and brittle as dried flowers. “I beg you, do not take him from me.”

Dominic fought the need to embrace her again. How he wanted to kiss her, to yield to the volatile emotions twisting up inside him. Yet, nightfall gathered across the sky. ’Twas not safe for them to delay.

“We will discuss this later,” he said. “We must get back before dark. Come.”

He started for the wall again, and her reluctant footfalls sounded behind him.

As they neared her shop, and she drew her key out of her cloak pocket, Dominic glanced about. Still no sign of Crenardieu’s watchers. The Frenchman must need them elsewhere this eve.

She unlocked the door, and they stepped inside. The panel to the main part of the house was closed, and light fingered through the cracked wood. Ewan and Ada’s voices, raised in lively conversation, came from beyond.

“Arr!” Ada roared. “I will eat ye bit by bit, Sir Smug. I will save yer toes fer last.”

“You will not eat my toes,” Ewan yelled back, “or any other part of me! Prepare to fight, dragon!”

A mighty battle cry echoed, at the same moment Gisela closed the door. She secured it before removing her cloak and crossing to her home’s entrance.

“Gisela,” Dominic said. She was not going to escape showing him the silk.

“I will let Ada and Ewan know we have returned,” she answered, “and fetch some light.”

She opened the door. For a moment, she stood surrounded by a golden aura.

“Mama!”

Ewan’s delighted tone touched deep within Dominic. One day, would the little boy greet him with such joy? Or, would Ewan hate him, for revealing his mother’s deceptions to de Lanceau?

“I missed you, Mama.”

“I missed you, too, Button,” she said, before the door shut, leaving Dominic in near-darkness. Voices carried, softer this time, before the panel again opened. Gisela stepped through holding a burning taper.

She nudged the door closed with her foot, headed to her worktable, and lit the candles. Dominic waited, aware of the stiffness of her movements. If she foolishly refused to show him the hiding place, he would go over the floor plank by plank, on his hands and knees, until he found it.

Wiping her hands on her gown, she walked near to where he stood. She knelt and pressed her palms to the worn boards.

He stared down at the crown of her head, shining in the candlelight. At the elegant sway of her body, outlined by her shabby gown. He remembered kissing the soft dimples and hollows of her back, as perfect as a Roman sculpture’s. How he longed to kneel beside her, catch her chin, and tilt her face up for a kiss. To tell her that whatever she’d done, he could forgive her—because he loved her.

But, she had lied to him. More than once.

With a grating rasp, the panel beneath her hands shifted. Blackness gaped beneath.

He dropped to a crouch, bringing his face to the same level as hers. Her lashes flicked up. Her gaze held his for an instant before she again looked at the plank, gave a slight tug, and drew it free.

He reached for the neighboring board. The edges were perfectly smooth. The planks joined without the slightest space in between. Whoever had constructed the hidden storage area—likely a smuggler and one of the shop’s previous owners—was a clever craftsman who had ensured the cavity remained invisible to all but those who knew its location.

A grudging smile tugged at Dominic’s mouth. No wonder he had not found it. While he knew precisely how to investigate Crenardieu’s deceptions, the nuances of plank floors were a complete mystery.

Gisela withdrew two more boards. Then, sitting back on her heels, she pointed into the opening.

Blue silk shimmered. A small fortune in cloth.

Shaking his head, Dominic said, “Do you have any more hidden in your shop?”

“Nay.”

“Are you absolutely certain?”

Her jaw tightened. She nodded once.

“This silk is only a small part of Geoffrey’s shipment. There are many more bolts, somewhere.” Giving her a pointed look, he said, “Do you know where Crenardieu hid them?”

“I do not.” She looked down at her hands, clasped in her lap. A shrill giggle erupted from her home—Ewan’s laughter—and she exhaled a heavy sigh.

Dominic reached into the hiding place and examined the contents. Neatly folded atop two bolts of silk were a gown and a partly finished silk cloak. Exquisite garments.

“What was your agreement with Crenardieu?” he asked, inspecting the bolts.

“He will visit tomorrow morning to collect the garments and remaining cloth.”

“At that time, he will also pay you,” Dominic said.

“Aye.”

Dominic smiled.

Gisela’s eyebrows arched. Misgiving glinted in her eyes. “I know that look.”

“I vow you do.”

With a little huff, she pushed up to standing. “What do you have planned? I must know.”

Must
. Ah, what a subjective term. He had made it quite clear to her, days ago, that he
must
discover the location of the stolen silks.

He stood and brushed off his hands on his tunic. “When I return later this evening, we will discuss this further. Right now, there are matters to which I must attend.” Of primary importance, he must write a missive to Geoffrey detailing his findings. The more men-at-arms Geoffrey could send to Clovebury by dawn tomorrow, the better.

“Dominic, we will discuss your plans now.”

A stunned laugh shot from him. She was telling
him
what to do? “You are overbold, Gisela, considering your circumstances.”

She didn’t avert her mutinous gaze or look the slightest bit embarrassed. Indeed, she seemed even more resolute. “I respect your duty to de Lanceau, but you cannot be rash in this instance. ’Tis not only your life you jeopardize, Dominic. Think of Ewan.”

Dominic’s mouth tautened. Lowering his voice to a gravelly whisper, he said, “I do, Gisela. He has been in my thoughts every moment since you told me he is my son.”

Distress flickered across her features. He’d not meant to speak so harshly, but the words had slipped out, laden with frustration and resentment.

“I know you are angry with me,” she said quietly.

He raised his hands, palms up. Now was not the time for an emotionally wrenching discussion. He had a great deal to do.

“I cannot fault your rage,” she went on, her gaze pleading, “but Ewan must not suffer for decisions I made. He must not come to harm. I will protect him, with my own life if need be, if you tell me what you intend to do.”

Admiration softened the edge off Dominic’s annoyance. Her love for Ewan shone brightly in her eyes. Whatever transpired, Dominic had no wish to endanger their son’s life.

Or hers. Regardless of her crimes, he wouldn’t fail to protect her, like the chivalrous knights Ewan admired.

“I am sorry, Gisela, but I cannot tell you yet.”

“Why not?”

“You might betray me.”

She jerked back as though he had bellowed. Her face paled. “To Crenardieu? Never!” Standing tall, she clenched her hands by her sides. She looked as determined as Ewan when he’d attacked with his wooden sword.

Mayhap he was a witless fool, but Dominic believed her. She wouldn’t deliberately betray him. However, betrayal occurred in the most subtle of ways. A wrong word, an unintentional glance, a gesture—

“You do not trust me,” she said before Dominic could reply. “I cannot blame you. Yet, please believe me when I say Crenardieu is a very dangerous man.”

“I know.”

“He and his hired thugs control Clovebury. They will kill you, if they sense you are conspiring against them.”

“Then they must not find out.” Crouching again, Dominic reached for the boards to cover the hiding place. “I will return shortly.” Raising a brow, he looked up at her. “I trust you will let me back inside?”

Gisela scowled. “If I do not, you will merely find another way in.”

He chuckled at her surly tone. “Very true.” The planks back in place, he rose. “Do not let anyone in while I am gone. I will return as soon as I can.”

Without another word, she let him out. Twilight had turned the street into a land of shadows, on the cusp of darkness.

He began to walk away.

“Dominic,” Gisela called after him. “Be careful.”

***

“Mama, where is Dominic?”

As her hand dropped from the door handle, Gisela glanced to where Ewan sat cross-legged on the floor in front of the pallets. Ada sat opposite him. Between them they held the cloth dragon and Sir Smug, poised for more rambunctious play.

“I heard Dominic a moment ago. Is he still in the shop?”

Expectation brightened Ewan’s eyes. He obviously wished to see Dominic again—to have his “warrior to warrior” talk. A bittersweet pang dimmed the unease pressing upon Gisela’s soul. When they told him Dominic was his father, he would take the news well—one good element from the unraveling string of disasters.

“Dominic had to leave,” she said, managing to smile. “He had some business to attend.”

Ada’s brows drew together. “Now? ’Tis nightfall.”

Ewan rolled his eyes. “Dominic
is
a grown warrior.”

“And a rogue,” Ada said under her breath, while straightening the kink in the dragon’s tail.

The little boy frowned at Ada. His expression turned thoughtful. “Mama, you told me ’tis not safe to be out in the town alone, especially after dark.”

She had, indeed, told him such, for his own safety. She didn’t want him, in a moment of rebellious curiosity, to sneak out at night to explore while she lay sleeping. “Aye, Button.”

“Does that mean Dominic might be in danger?”

Oh, my
. She bit down on her tongue to suppress a groan. “As you said, he is a grown warrior. He has the fighting skills to defend himself if he is attacked by dragons.” Or two-legged thugs loyal to Crenardieu.

Ewan nodded, as though satisfied with her answer. With careful fingers, he straightened Sir Smug’s cloth armor.

Ada’s questioning frown remained.

Breaking the older woman’s gaze, Gisela moved to the table, picked up a chunk of bread, and raised it to her lips. The yeasty scent turned her nervous stomach. With a sigh, she set the morsel down beside the bowl of hazelnuts and poured herself a mug of mead.

Gisela sipped the warm liquid, forcing it down when it threatened to choke her. Still, the sense of dread—the gut-squeezing uncertainty that had rushed through her when Dominic strode away—lingered. What was he arranging that he didn’t want to confide in her? Were her moments of freedom—her moments with Ewan—drawing to an end?

The coolness of the earthenware mug seeped into her fingers and matched the cold knot in the pit of her stomach. If only Dominic hadn’t discovered the truth about the silk until after she’d completed her deal with Crenardieu. If only she had the Frenchman’s coin, enabling her and Ewan to flee north tonight.

What selfish, deceitful thoughts. She would surely writhe in purgatory for such musings—after she had rotted to nothingness in de Lanceau’s dungeon.

Oh, God, she couldn’t stand by, counting the moments until Dominic returned, while her life became tightly bound to circumstances she couldn’t control. Waiting was its own kind of hell.

“—and Sir Smug should clean his weapons after this round of fighting,” Ada was saying. Clothing rustled, followed by loud grunts—the sound of the woman pushing to her feet. “Whew! Me arse is numb from sittin’ on the floor.”

Ewan giggled.

“We will call an ’alt to our battle fer a while. Aye?”

Gislea turned in time to see her son’s face crumple into a disappointed scowl. “Aw. Sir Smug wants to fight some more.”

“Of course ’e does. ’E is a knight.” Ada rolled her eyes at Gisela. “’E will battle e’en more fiercely, though, after a brief rest in ’is camp.” She peered down at the little boy. “Ye did set up a camp fer ’im, did ye not?”

Ewan glanced about. “Um—”

“Right, then. I think ye’d better make one. Let me know when ye ’ave finished.”

The little boy twisted where he sat, clearly searching for a good location. Concentration sharpened his gaze, an expression similar to Dominic’s before he left earlier.

Rubbing her bottom, Ada crossed the space between her and Gisela. “’E ’ad some bread and cheese,” she said, gesturing in Ewan’s direction.

“Thank you.”

Ada nodded, but the worry lines didn’t soften around her mouth. “If ye do not mind me askin’,” she said quietly, “what is botherin’ ye?”

The woman’s motherly gaze urged Gisela to release her turmoil on a good, satisfying cry. ’Twould not be the first time Gisela had wept on the woman’s shoulder; months ago, in Ada’s home, while her slashed breast healed, she’d cried far too often. Now, tearfully confiding in Ada and possibly jeopardizing her well-being was not only unwise, but unfair.