Page 46 of A Knight’s Reward

Listen to your father, the sharp-tongued witch had agreed. You are a great disappointment to him, you know—unlike your brother. You never gave your mother one reason to be proud before she died. Surely you will not disappoint your sire, too?

The memory brought a bitter smile to Dominic’s lips, for after telling them what he thought of them manipulating his life, he’d revealed he had accepted his duty—not to them, but to his king. Like past warriors in the de Terre lineage, he would fight for the crown. Since he might die on crusade, his betrothed would be wise to find herself another husband.

His father, clearly stunned, couldn’t deny the merit of such a decision. What sire did not want his son to be a battle hero?

“Eat up that last bit of tart,” Gisela said, her voice drifting into the shop.

Ewan grumbled. “Mama, my tummy is full.”

“’Tis only three small bites, Button. Do not waste such a wonderful sweet.”

Dominic lowered his arms, shaking out the tension locked between his shoulder blades. Gisela’s gentle tone brushed Dominic’s soul like a caress, stirring a deluge of regret. While he’d eagerly anticipated the adventures of crusade and escaping his betrothal, he’d known, when it came to Gisela, his decision would wound him for the rest of his life.

As much as he’d loved her, he couldn’t ask her to wait for him to return. He might not survive the Eastern battles. He might be so badly injured that even if he did return to England, she’d no longer want him.

Now they had found each other again, did she fear their love would rekindle tenfold, consuming them both in its intensity? She claimed she had no husband, but the man clearly held sway over her. Did she worry about being unfaithful—and her husband learning of her betrayal?

Husband. Dominic ground his teeth. What he would give for information on the man who had claimed Gisela for his own.

Mayhap he should make a few inquiries.

As he fingered his hair back into place, Ewan came through the doorway to his side. “Why do you not come back into the house?”

Dominic smiled. “I will, but only for a moment. I must be on my way.”

Ewan’s expression turned solemn. “Are you angry with Mama?”

“Nay.” Putting his hand on the little boy’s shoulder, Dominic guided him back into the home. Gisela stood by the trestle table, wrapping up the parcels of food. She didn’t look up, but her tensing posture told Dominic she was aware of his approach.

Her hair tumbled forward in a shiny, golden swath as she reached for the cloth sack. “There is quite a bit of food left.”

“’Tis yours,” he said.

Her head jerked up. Astonishment shone in her eyes, which looked overly moist. “All of it?”

“Aye.”

“Oh. I… We could not. I mean⁠—”

He smiled. “You have a growing warrior to feed.”

She hesitated, then murmured, “Thank you.”

Dominic fought a tug at his heart. Were those tears in her eyes? Before he could ask, she spun on her heel and carried several packages to the cupboard.

Ewan pulled at Dominic’s sleeve, claiming his attention. “I want another story. Do you have any more tales about dragons?”

“Another day, little warrior. I must bid you good night.”

“Aw!”

Returning to the table, Gisela said, “I will see you out.”

Dominic strode through her premises. He waited by the door while she drew the bolts, unlocked the panel, and pulled it open. The evening breeze gusted in.

How foolish to have forgotten the fine mantle, which matched his tunic, in his room at the tavern. Yet, he was only half-aware of the cool summer night. Gisela stood very close. Directly behind him, one slender hand upon the door’s iron handle, waiting for him to walk away so she could lock up her shop again.

Ah, God, how acutely he sensed her—her fragrance, her body warmth, and the fear she kept tightly leashed.