Page 100 of A Knight’s Reward

Glancing back at them, the man said quietly, “To see Lord de Lanceau, of course.”

“Why must we go upstairs? Will we visit his bedchamber?” Ewan’s hushed voice grew louder with each word. “What does a lord wear to bed? Does he have special nightclothes? Does he sleep in his undergarments?”

Gisela’s face burned. “Ewan, hush.”

“But, Mama⁠—”

“Rather than speak with you in the hall, which would mean waking the servants,” the man said, clearly trying hard not to grin, “he will receive you in another chamber.”

Gisela murmured her thanks, grateful Ewan had heeded her request for silence. Yet, with each step, her trepidation grew. Each stair brought her closer and closer to the moment she must admit her deceptions, and, also, her responsibility for what had happened to Dominic. If she’d been honest with him about the hidden silks the first time he’d mentioned the shipment, he wouldn’t be in danger now.

Smoke from the fire hovered at the upper level, making her eyes burn. As she and Ewan crossed the narrow landing and stepped into the corridor beyond, she prayed Dominic was all right. I love you, Dominic. More than you can ever know. I will do all I can to save you.

The blond man led them past an imposing set of doors. Farther down the passage illuminated by torches along the wall, he motioned them into a chamber. “Wait here.”

Gisela stepped inside. A red woolen blanket stretched across the floor. A small, wooden wagon, carved animals, a wooden castle, and soldiers lay scattered across the blanket, as though whoever had arranged them had left in mid-play. Her gaze fell upon a cloth dragon, lying on top of a large oak chest, an instant before Ewan gasped, twisted his hand free, and rushed over to it.

He picked up the toy. “Mama, look!”

She crossed to her son’s side. “’Tis a magnificent beast.” The dragon’s embroidered scales were exquisitely rendered with gold thread. De Lanceau’s lady wife, Elizabeth, was said to be a very talented embroiderer.

The click of a closing door, then booted footfalls, carried in the passage.

Oh, God, give me strength for what I must say and do.

Linking her clammy hands together, she faced the doorway. A tall man halted just outside, raking his fingers through his brown, sleep-tousled hair. Frowning at the blond man, who stood just inside the chamber, he said, “Aldwin.”

“Milord.” Aldwin tipped his head toward Gisela.

As de Lanceau’s steel-gray gaze shifted to her, Gisela shivered. She dropped to her knees on the blanket, pulling Ewan down beside her. “Lord de Lanceau,” she said, staring at the blanket’s rolled edge.

The rap of boots on the plank floor told her he approached.

“You are?” he asked.

“Gisela Anne Balewyne,” she said, unable to keep from shaking. “This”—she pointed—“is my son, Ewan.”

“Gisela,” de Lanceau murmured with considerable surprise. Her name seemed familiar to him, as though someone had recently spoken of her. “Dominic mentioned you in his earlier missive,” he added.

“H-he did?” Oh, God. What had Dominic said? Had he known, when he sent the missive, about the silk hidden beneath her floorboards? Unable to suppress a stab of anxiety, she raised her lashes to glance up at de Lanceau.

He met her gaze. His handsome face, bronzed by days spent in the sun, eased into a smile. Extending his hand, he said, “Please, rise. I have spent enough time on that floor to know ’tis not very comfortable.”

Gisela blinked. “But, milord⁠—”

Before she could say more, he caught her hand and drew her to her feet.

“Can I stay down here?” Ewan squinted up at them. His sword pushed to one side, he glanced longingly at the wooden toys.

“May I, milord,” Gisela quickly corrected. “I do apologize, Lord de Lanceau, for his lack of propriety. We are not used to speaking with noblemen of your importance… I mean, well… we are very common folk.”

Inwardly, she cringed. Could she have sounded more like a witless fool?

To her astonishment, de Lanceau’s smile did not falter. “My lady wife and I also have a son, named Edouard. He is younger than your Ewan. Young boys can be most… stubborn.” Shaking his head, his expression becoming grave, he said, “Now, I am told you bring word of Dominic.”

She nodded. “I fear his life is in danger. This evening, he was beaten and dragged away⁠—”

“Beaten!” Anger glinted in de Lanceau’s eyes. “By whom?”