Page 110 of A Knight’s Reward

“Bon.” Crenardieu beamed. The thugs close to Dominic slapped their hands together and hollered. Water sloshed against the dock. One of the men stepped out of his swaying boat and strode up the bank, carrying a leather sack under his arm.

Taking the bag from his lackey, the merchant handed it to Crenardieu. “’Tis all there.”

“I wish to count it. Of course, you understand.”

His smile thinning slightly, the merchant nodded.

Crenardieu took a blanket down from the front of the wagon, spread it on the ground, and dumped out the sack’s contents. Gold shimmered.

Hurry, fool! Hurry! Once he has counted the coins, the men will load the silks into the boats and sail away. You will have failed!

Sweat beaded on Dominic’s brow. Tipping his head back against the trunk, he stared up at the sky, the same exquisite blue as the day he and Gisela had first made love.

The day they’d created a new life. Together.

Together.

How had their lives become so desperate, dangerous, and… separate?

Squeezing his eyes shut, swallowing down grit, Dominic rubbed his wrists against each other. Along with the chafe of rope, he felt a leggy insect—a spider, mayhap—scrambling over his hand.

Tree boughs shifted overhead. As the wind began to fade, he caught a familiar sound. Faint at first, but growing in volume.

Thud-thud-thud. Thud-thud-thud. Thud-thud-thud.

Horses approached at a gallop.

Geoffrey had found him! He’d seen the scrap of silk on the road and traced Dominic to this isolated location. Buoyed by a burst of hope, Dominic worked again at the ropes. Once free, he would charge into the battle. Crenardieu and his men wouldn’t escape the retribution they deserved.

Muttering between themselves, the merchants drew weapons and slunk into the underbrush beneath the trees. Rage tightening his features, Crenardieu glared at his men. “Go and see who draws near,” he snapped. “If you do not recognize them, kill them.”

His thugs disappeared into the forest, while the dark-haired merchant—clearly uneasy, but unwilling to leave his gold—drew his sword and faced the road. Drawing his weapon as well, Crenardieu placed it on the blanket. Faster now, he counted the coins. Clink. Clink.

Voices carried from the road winding down to the riverbank. Dominic strained to hear. Muffled by the breeze, what he heard didn’t sound like the shouts of armed men attacking foes.

The hoofbeats slowed to a rhythmic clip-clop. Moments later, three men, riding behind Crenardieu’s brisk-striding thugs, came into view.

A cry, sharp with worry, welled up inside Dominic.

Gisela. Oh, God. Gisela!

For riding toward the river were the two thugs Crenardieu had ordered to guard her shop.

And an angry-looking Ryle.

CHAPTER 20

Following behind de Lanceau and Aldwin, her gaze upon the crumbling wall and riverbank meadow where she and Dominic had talked yester eve, Gisela did not notice the man until she heard him say, “Milord.”

Something in the voice made her glance his way. His head bowed in a gesture of respect, he guided his horse onto the grassy verge to let de Lanceau’s contingent go past. Winded from a fast run, the animal snorted loud breaths.

When she drew alongside the man, he raised his head slightly. Their gazes locked. Her pulse gave a stunned jolt.

One of Crenardieu’s lackeys.

He had visited her shop with the Frenchman many times.

The man’s eyes flared. Sweat glistening on his face, he tightened his hold on the horse’s reins, preparing to gallop off.