Page 21 of A Knight’s Reward

Fighting the unwelcome numbness flooding through him, Dominic smiled at the boy. “Hello, Ewan.”

The boy stared up at him with wide-eyed curiosity. Distrust also glinted in his gaze that shifted from Dominic to Gisela.

“Ewan,” Gisela said in gentle reprimand. “Say hello to Dominic.”

The boy’s lips pursed. Dominic barely resisted a grin. The little lad had a stubborn streak, a trait acquired from his mother.

“Button.”

The child’s shoulders hunched. His eyes narrowed beneath his dark lashes, before he said, “Mama says you are her friend.”

“I am.”

“She says you are a knight.”

“Aye.”

Awe brightened the boy’s gaze. “Really?”

Dominic nodded, then fingered damp hair from his brow. He was sweating like a goose turning on a spit. Hardly the way to make a favorable impression.

“Mayhap you should sit down,” Gisela said quickly. She gestured to the battered bench drawn up to the table. “Ada, is there any pottage left?”

“There is.” The older woman turned to the fire.

With a grateful groan, Dominic sank onto the bench that squeaked at his weight. He spread his booted legs out in front of him. With slow, very careful movements, he rested his elbows on the table. His entire body sighed with relief.

Standing by the fire, Ada cast him a disparaging glance before looking back at the steaming pot.

Closing his eyes, Dominic ran his hand over his face. He could only imagine how he looked to the older woman—like a ruffian dragged in by kindhearted Gisela. He vowed to hold true to his promise to be on his most chivalrous behavior. Above all, he must remember not to curse. That was a sensitive issue, it seemed, for Gisela.

He heard her walk across the chamber and whisper to Ada, and the clank of the cauldron’s ladle. Yet, the rasp of an indrawn breath, along with the sensation of being scrutinized from head to toe, forced Dominic to open his weary eyes. Ewan stood barely a hand’s span away, his little fingers clasped together. They twitched with barely contained excitement. The toy knight, tossed aside in haste, now lay facedown on one of the pallets.

Ewan sucked in his plump bottom lip. “My knight’s name is Sir Smug.”

Sir what? “I see. How did he get such a fine name?”

“My mama made him for me. She tried to sew him a smiling mouth, but she could not get it quite right. She said he looks a bit smug.”

Dominic barely smothered a laugh. “He is perfectly named, then.”

After a silence, the boy blurted, “If you are a knight, where is your sword?”

Ah. An astute question. “’Tis in a safe place.”

A frown clouded Ewan’s face. “Does a knight not wear his sword all the time?”

“Most of the time.”

“Ewan,” Gisela said, casting Dominic an apologetic smile. “Dominic would like to rest quietly for a moment. He is wounded, you see.”

“You were in a fight?” Ewan’s eyes were enormous now.

Ridiculous pride welled inside Dominic. “Indeed, I was. I fended off my assailants with my bare hands. I learned all manner of fighting, you see, when I was on crusade.”

“Crusade!” Ewan gasped. “You fought with the king?”

Dominic nodded.