Page 17 of A Knight’s Reward

Pressing her fingers to the building’s rough stone, she tried to ignore the anguish of lost dreams. Both of their lives had changed, too much for her to hope he’d be in her life again with any more permanence than a shifting sunbeam.

Despite what they’d shared in the past… and what they had in common now.

Dominic no doubt had hundreds of beautiful, wealthy noblewomen vying for his attentions. Years ago, after the arranged marriage his father and stepmother had tried to force upon him, he’d vowed he would never wed. How he had railed in the meadow, stomping through the grass and cursing his entrapment that had naught to do with love, only his father’s ambitions. To escape his betrothal to the highborn lady barely thirteen years old, he’d joined the king’s crusade and left England.

Now that he’d returned, an older and more worldly-wise man, he likely viewed marriage differently. He was probably wed to a lady worthy of his noble status, with children of his own.

Swallowing down the distressing thought, Gisela watched him peer into the alley. He grimaced, revealing the motion hurt. Then he laughed and shook his head. A mangy cat bounded past, a mouse in its jaws.

“Come on.” Clasping her hand again, Dominic led her into the alley and toward the noisy market square. Musicians had started up a lively tune for an audience who clapped in time to the melody.

“Dominic, we are going the wrong way.”

“Trust me,” he said. “’Tis safest for us right now to be in a crowd. ’Twill be easier to lose anyone who might be following. Then, you may show me where to go.”

Resentment—an emotional habit worn like a rut into her soul—welled up inside her at his commanding tone. Ryle had often spoken to her as though she had the intelligence of an iron trivet. Simply by being her husband, he’d believed he had the right to control even the tiniest facets of her existence.

A shudder jarred through her, leaving in its wake a painful emptiness. She shoved aside thoughts of Ryle. Dominic was not Ryle. Could never be Ryle.

Dominic glanced back at her, his brow creased with a frown. “What is wrong? Did you see someone following?”

“I am just… uneasy.”

Compassion softened his gaze before he looked away. “’Tis not a bad thing,” he said, so softly she almost didn’t hear. “’Twill keep you safe.”

Safe. She’d forgotten what ’twas like to be safe. No matter how reassured she might feel with Dominic leading the way, danger still lurked. Ahead of her. Behind her. In the market that drew townspeople from this county and beyond, some of whom likely knew Ryle. Never must she let down her caution.

They approached the market’s outskirts. The bear trainer stood chatting with a group of men. Children scrambled in the dirt, chasing one another, while vendors, shouting encouragement to buy their wares, loaded more items onto their stall tables.

Dominic skirted the bear trainer and led her into the crowd between the rows of merchant tables.

With a sharp stab of fear, she saw they neared the baker’s table. Had he returned to his stall? Would he recognize her? She squeezed Dominic’s hand in silent warning. When he looked at her, she tipped her head, indicating the space between two nearby vendors; she and Dominic could slip through into the other section of the market.

Before she started in that direction, Dominic tugged her forward, forcing her to walk at his side, his body between her and the row of stalls, including the baker’s. Dominic’s arm settled around her waist. Drawing her near, bending his head close to hers, he propelled her onward.

To anyone watching, they’d appear to be a couple in love, the besotted man whispering endearments to his beloved while they shopped.

Confusion rushed through Gisela, even as his breath warmed her brow. The brush of his body against hers wreaked havoc with every emotional boundary she had established for herself. Desire, regret, the torment of their parting tangled up inside her. Her emotions unraveled, like a skein of thread tumbling from a table onto the floorboards and rolling across the planks.

Nay! Never could she yield to fickle emotion. ’Twould make her careless. She couldn’t afford one mistake when Ewan’s safety—indeed, his life—depended on her.

Her spine rigid, she tried to step out of Dominic’s embrace.

His arm tightened, curtailing her freedom. “Pretend you care for me, Gisela,” he whispered against her ear.

Hot-cold tingles shivered down her neck. “Dominic—” How could he ask that of her? How, when he no doubt loved another woman? A lady?

“Pretend as ’twas between us before,” he coaxed with a hint of regret. “Believe, for this moment, that we were never apart. Please.”

His regret burrowed inside her, an echo of every lonely day she’d missed him. She tried to swallow, but her mouth had become painfully dry. The dust stirred up by other market goers stung her eyes.

“’Tis difficult to pretend?” he said, his tone teasing. Yet, she discerned dismay, too.

“’Tis a game I have forgotten how to play,” she answered, reaching up to sweep an escaping lock of hair back inside her hood. A game of love I have not played since I lost you.

“A pity, for a woman with eyes as blue as the summer sky.”

A flush stole into her face. “Cease.”