Page 16 of A Knight’s Reward

Dread snaked through her. Shaking her head, she said, “Dominic, do not change the subject. Do you agree?”

“I do.” He grinned. “I will be a very well-behaved knight.”

He sounded just like Ewan—and his gaze held the same mischievous sparkle. Oh, God, was she wise to take Dominic to her home? What other choice did she have? None. “Let us be on our w⁠—”

Laughter erupted outside.

The mirth vanished from Dominic’s eyes. “Help me get out of this,” he whispered, motioning to his long, filthy mantle.

“What? Why⁠—”

“The baker and his assistant—and any of their friends—know me as a peddler. I will leave the disguise here.” He handed her the knife, then unfastened the mantle and began to shrug out of it. Pain darkened his eyes.

“Let me.” With a shaking hand, she helped him remove the tattered garment, aware of his breath warming the wool of her hood, and the heat of his body underneath the bulky garment. The mantle dropped to the straw. Underneath he wore a simple brown tunic, hose, and boots, well-fitting garments that defined his broad, muscular form.

Their gazes met for a moment before he reclaimed the knife. He stepped ahead of her, shielding her body with his own. The dagger glinted.

With his free hand, he cautioned her to remain still. He edged forward to peer toward the doorway. She heard his indrawn breath when he moved in a way that strained his injuries.

A moment later, he gestured for her to join him.

“The men are heading to the tavern,” he said in hushed tones. “Take my hand, and we will head for the alley.” As he spoke, he turned the dagger so the flat of the blade pressed against his wrist and forearm, hidden by his tunic’s cuff.

She nodded and slid her fingers into his.

Sensation glimmered where their palms touched. It spread through her, a delicious warmth akin to the sun slipping free of a storm cloud. A sigh shivered from her. The brush of his callused skin against hers, his snug but gentle grip, the memory of his touch long ago, sent awareness flooding through her. And an undeniable sense of… belonging.

Biting down on her lip, she looked up at Dominic, leading her toward the stable’s doorway. If he’d noticed her reaction to his touch, he didn’t acknowledge it, not even by the slightest glance back. Drawing her close behind him, he stepped out of the stable’s shadows into the sunlight.

Dirt crunched under his strong strides—markedly different from the clumsy, shuffled gait of the peddler he had pretended to be. At a swift pace, he led her toward the narrow alley. Rowdy laughter came from the tavern. She dared a sidelong glance and saw two men stepping through the open doorway.

The weather-beaten panel swung shut.

She blew out a relieved breath.

With a wry chuckle, Dominic drew her into the alley. Glancing over his shoulder, he said, “’Twas a heavy sigh, Gisela.”

“We do not appear to have been followed.”

“That we know of.”

She swallowed. “You mean⁠—”

“We will not dally.” While he spoke, he urged her to a quicker pace. “There may be thugs waiting for us at the street ahead.”

“Waiting for you, you mean,” she said. “You must be a dangerous man, Dominic.”

His shoulders stiffened. Tension, now, defined his strides. As they hurried on, the smoky tang of the blacksmith’s market fire carrying on the breeze, Dominic muttered, “I had not thought so.”

“You had reason, though, to be disguised as a peddler. Do you have enemies in Clovebury?”

He suddenly froze, as though hearing a suspicious noise, and pressed her back against the stone wall of a nearby building. Flattened beside her, he said quietly, “We will discuss the matter later.” After freeing his hand from hers, he slid the knife from his sleeve. He glanced at the entry to the alley. Tense. Alert.

A guarded secretiveness shadowed his handsome face. Resolve defined the set of his mouth. As she looked up at him, a wilder, tougher version of the man she’d loved, she wondered how much she really knew him. And whether he would answer her question.

Years ago, even though he was the son of a rich lord and she but a common merchant’s daughter, they would have told each other anything. Promised each other anything.

Now…