Page 3 of A Knight’s Reward

Regret pierced him. He shoved aside the inconvenient remorse, for years ago, he’d had no choice but to leave her. Moreover, the woman he followed could not be his beloved Gisela. The village where he’d met her was leagues from here. By now, she’d be married to a good husband, with four or five children crowding around her skirts.

She trailed her hand along a row of linen gowns drifting in the breeze, then turned left, heading toward the open space where the entertainers gathered. Dominic shuffled on, keeping his gaze upon her. Idiot that he was, he should simply give up pursuit and return to the market, to see what he might overhear. His duty to Geoffrey was far more important than chasing a wench with a sultry sway.

Yet, he couldn’t turn away.

Something about this woman drew him to her.

Curiosity, mayhap.

Desire.

A grin ticked up the corner of his mouth. What man would not be enticed by a woman who swayed like a young sapling? She, however, would hardly be enticed by a scruffy peddler.

Still—

She paused a moment to watch the bear trainer. Waving a stick, the man coaxed one of the large animals to rise up on its hind legs. The crowd roared.

Switching the stick to his other hand, Dominic wiped sweat from his brow, then flexed his stiff fingers unaccustomed to curling around the wood.

He looked back at the crowd.

The woman wasn’t there.

Disquiet flickered through him. Walking forward, he scanned the rest of the throng.

Gone.

An apt ending, mayhap, to a senseless quest.

Just as he was about to admit defeat, he spied her, darting into a side alley. As she ran, the hood of her cloak slipped off her head, revealing a mass of blond hair.

Gisela!

The walking stick slid from his hand and clattered on the ground. Before he could caution himself, Dominic broke into a run. The heavy mantle dragged against his legs, and he stumbled twice before regaining his balance. Clenching his fist into the coarse fabric, he yanked up one corner of his garment’s hem.

Several men gathered around the dancing bears turned to glance at him in surprise. With a pinch of dismay, he recognized them from earlier in the morning, when he’d convinced them he was a crippled old vagrant.

He reached the entrance to the alleyway where Gisela had gone. Yards down the narrow, rubbish-strewn alley, he caught sight of a figure in brown. Her hair was again concealed by the hood, which she held in place with one hand while she ran.

“Gisela!” he called. She didn’t stop, glance over her shoulder, or give any indication she’d heard him.

He sprinted into the alley. Rotting cabbages and onions littered the ground. Flies buzzed in a black, swirling cloud. Muttering an oath and batting away flies, he skidded through a slick mass of vegetables. The stench flooded his nostrils. Coughing, he covered his face with his grubby sleeve.

Halfway down the alley, he paused. The cacophony of market day carried from the other street, while in contrast, the alley seemed intensely silent. Glancing to and fro, he searched for Gisela.

A sense of urgency burned in his gut. He had to find her. After all this time⁠—

A scrawny gray cat scampered over a nearby pile of broken wooden crates. One of the wooden slats shifted, then fell to the dirt. With a yowl, the feline bounded away. It disappeared down another alleyway, farther ahead.

Holding up his mantle again, Dominic followed.

The side street led into the backyard of The Stubborn Mule Tavern. A wide dirt space—enough to turn a horse-drawn wagon—fronted the two-story, wattle and daub building with a sagging thatch roof. Glancing to his left, Dominic noted the stable’s low roof also bowed in the middle, damage likely caused by heavy spring rains.

He pushed aside the mantle’s hood, gasping for cool air. Wiping his brow, he scrutinized the tavern yard. His sense of urgency deepened. Could she have fled into the tavern? Not a safe place for a young woman alone, but most of the townsfolk seemed to be at the market—meaning there would be fewer drunkards inside to harass her. From her brisk run, she’d seemed desperate at all costs to elude him.

Odd, her desperation. Why did she try so hard to evade him?

Had she stolen something from one of the stalls? Surely not. The Gisela he’d known had a soul as pure as unblemished snow, but then again, he’d not seen her for years.