Page 53 of A Knight’s Reward

Another oath. Had she really said “Oh, my God!” with utter horror? She’d speak that way about a poisonous, five-headed snake.

“I… Um… Just a moment,” she called.

He frowned. “Are you well?”

“Aye!” she said, before he had finished speaking. Through the door, her voice sounded breathless. As though he’d caught her in a clandestine act.

His frown deepened. Curiosity nagged, turning his excitement into suspicion. He had no right to know… but what was she doing in there?

Pressing his fingers to the rough wooden panel, he tipped his head close to hear. Impossible, with the horse-drawn wagon rattling by.

He remembered the first time he’d visited her shop, how she’d sat at her sewing table, sunlight illuminating her face, her expression one of intense concentration while she smoothed out the gown. The image distorted. He saw her standing back against the table, hands splayed in crushed fabric while her body arched up to meet her lover’s hungry kiss. As her eyes closed and her head tilted back in rapture, the man pushed down her gown to reveal her breasts’ luscious swell.

Thumping noises came from inside the shop. Then, more scraping.

Dominic’s fingers curled against the door. The wood, weathered to a browny-gray hue, mocked him with its solid blankness. He saw no crack, no broken knot, through which he could peer in and see what was transpiring.

The urge to break down the panel roared again. Nay. She was probably with a female client who needed to try on a garment for fitting. That explained the closed shop and Gisela’s delay in letting him in.

She would not be with a lover.

He willed himself to be patient.

Forget patience!

He pummeled the door again. “Open up, G—” Careful, Dominic, you idiot! “Anne.”

Inside, the bolts on the door slid back. The lock clicked, and the panel creaked open. Gisela leaned into the small space between the door and the embrasure. Wispy hair poked out from her loosened braid. How he longed to tuck those strands back into place. To touch, just for a moment, the silk of her tresses and her cheek’s soft curve.

A flush stained her face. “Dominic.”

“Aye.”

Her slender hand flitted over her bodice, a nervous gesture that encouraged his gaze to skim down to her bosom.

Relief shivered through him. Her breasts were neatly restrained within her gown. The same one, he remembered, she’d worn yester eve. As he became fully attuned to her presence, he noted shadows under her eyes and the weariness lining her features.

“You look tired.”

She straightened, pushing her shoulders back. He tried not to notice the tempting thrust of her bosom. “I am fine.” Arching an eyebrow, she said, “You look like you slept in your clothes.”

He followed her gaze to his creased tunic. “Actually, I did.” Bestowing upon her his most charming grin, he said, “May I come in? I will tell you of my night drinking at the tavern.”

Dismay flitted over her face. She blinked and seemed to gather her composure. “I… I am sorry, Dominic. ’Tis not convenient. Mayhap you could come back later?”

Her apology sounded most gracious. Behind her encouraging smile, however, he sensed desperation.

She wished he would be on his way.

Why?

Pretending he had an entire day to dawdle, he shrugged. He toed a stone with his boot. “I did not realize you were with a client.”

“I am not.”

“Your shop is shut.” He paused before adding, “I was worried. I thought you or Ewan might be ill.”

Nodding, she gnawed on her bottom lip. Dominic let the moment drag. Tilting his head to one side, he looked at her, coaxing her to elaborate.