Page 40 of A Knight’s Reward

“The dry petals are very fragile.” Her stomach twisted at the thought of the delicate flowers ruined. “Ewan, you were wrong to disobey me.”

He blinked hard. “The necklace is fine. I promise.”

She must check. She had not looked at it since Dominic found her in the tavern’s stable.

Catching hold of Ewan’s hand, Gisela pulled him through the doorway into the house. She crossed to her pallet, raised the top edge, and withdrew a plain wooden box. Kneeling on the pallet, she raised the box lid.

Inside, atop an assortment of other mementoes, was a folded swatch of linen. She carefully opened it, revealing a dried daisy chain. Shriveled and spidery, the blooms still held a hint of their snowy white color.

Ewan knelt beside her. “See?”

“I see,” she said softly, remembering how Dominic had lovingly made her the daisy chain. “Still, you are not to touch it.”

“Why not? ’Tis just a silly string of flowers.”

Gisela rewrapped the necklace and returned it to the box. “Nay, Button, ’tis far more. The day I… received this necklace is the day I conceived you.”

His eyes widened. Then he frowned. “What does consee… cons⁠—”

Out in her tailor’s shop, a knock sounded on the door.

Gisela sighed. “Who could that be? Ada is not coming by this evening. She is helping to deliver a babe.”

“Dominic?” Ewan jumped to his feet.

“I shall see. You stay here.” After tucking the box back in its hiding place, she walked through to her shop, pausing to shut the door to her home behind her. She crossed her unlit premises, set a hand on the outer door’s handle, and called, “Who is there?”

“A handsome messenger with a surprise.”

Dominic.

Her pulse jolted. Joy and desire rushed through her. She shouldn’t be so thrilled. He was not her lover and never would be again. Their near embrace earlier—caused by frayed emotions and revived memories of their past, lost love—were best forgotten. Still, her hand shook when she drew the bolts and unlocked the door.

The scent of food—warm bread, fresh pastries, and roasted meat—wafted inside before the door fully opened. Still clad in his fine garments, Dominic stood on the threshold. Tucked under his arm, he carried a bulging cloth sack.

“Hello again,” he murmured.

“Dominic.”

With a slight flinch—no doubt because his ribs still hurt—he lifted up the bag. “I hope you have not eaten. I brought enough fare to feed the king’s army”—he winked—”and their hungry hounds.”

Gisela bit her bottom lip. She should protest his kindness. If she accepted his generous offer, she became indebted to him, and she couldn’t afford to repay him for the food.

Thrusting up a hand, Dominic shook his head. “I know what you are thinking. Please, do not refuse my gift. ’Tis freely offered, with no demands or persuasions.”

How well he still knew her. She couldn’t hold back a little laugh.

Oh, the fare smelled heavenly. And ’twould be so much nicer than eating the hard, day-old bread.

Gisela motioned him inside.

He brushed past her into the unlit shop, bringing with him the mouthwatering scents. She pushed the door shut, secured it, and inhaled deeply once again.

“Do not linger, Gisela,” Dominic called over his shoulder while he strode toward her home. “The food will be cold before you get to it.”

She shook her head. How deftly he took control of the situation.

As he still had a hold on her heart.