Page 77 of A Knight’s Reward

Wiping her hands on her gown, she walked near to where he stood. She knelt and pressed her palms to the worn boards.

He stared down at the crown of her head, shining in the candlelight. At the elegant sway of her body, outlined by her shabby gown. He remembered kissing the soft dimples and hollows of her back, as perfect as a Roman sculpture’s. How he longed to kneel beside her, catch her chin, and tilt her face up for a kiss. To tell her that whatever she’d done, he could forgive her—because he loved her.

But, she had lied to him. More than once.

With a grating rasp, the panel beneath her hands shifted. Blackness gaped beneath.

He dropped to a crouch, bringing his face to the same level as hers. Her lashes flicked up. Her gaze held his for an instant before she again looked at the plank, gave a slight tug, and drew it free.

He reached for the neighboring board. The edges were perfectly smooth. The planks joined without the slightest space in between. Whoever had constructed the hidden storage area—likely a smuggler and one of the shop’s previous owners—was a clever craftsman who had ensured the cavity remained invisible to all but those who knew its location.

A grudging smile tugged at Dominic’s mouth. No wonder he had not found it. While he knew precisely how to investigate Crenardieu’s deceptions, the nuances of plank floors were a complete mystery.

Gisela withdrew two more boards. Then, sitting back on her heels, she pointed into the opening.

Blue silk shimmered. A small fortune in cloth.

Shaking his head, Dominic said, “Do you have any more hidden in your shop?”

“Nay.”

“Are you absolutely certain?”

Her jaw tightened. She nodded once.

“This silk is only a small part of Geoffrey’s shipment. There are many more bolts, somewhere.” Giving her a pointed look, he said, “Do you know where Crenardieu hid them?”

“I do not.” She looked down at her hands, clasped in her lap. A shrill giggle erupted from her home—Ewan’s laughter—and she exhaled a heavy sigh.

Dominic reached into the hiding place and examined the contents. Neatly folded atop two bolts of silk were a gown and a partly finished silk cloak. Exquisite garments.

“What was your agreement with Crenardieu?” he asked, inspecting the bolts.

“He will visit tomorrow morning to collect the garments and remaining cloth.”

“At that time, he will also pay you,” Dominic said.

“Aye.”

Dominic smiled.

Gisela’s eyebrows arched. Misgiving glinted in her eyes. “I know that look.”

“I vow you do.”

With a little huff, she pushed up to standing. “What do you have planned? I must know.”

Must. Ah, what a subjective term. He had made it quite clear to her, days ago, that he must discover the location of the stolen silks.

He stood and brushed off his hands on his tunic. “When I return later this evening, we will discuss this further. Right now, there are matters to which I must attend.” Of primary importance, he must write a missive to Geoffrey detailing his findings. The more men-at-arms Geoffrey could send to Clovebury by dawn tomorrow, the better.

“Dominic, we will discuss your plans now.”

A stunned laugh shot from him. She was telling him what to do? “You are overbold, Gisela, considering your circumstances.”

She didn’t avert her mutinous gaze or look the slightest bit embarrassed. Indeed, she seemed even more resolute. “I respect your duty to de Lanceau, but you cannot be rash in this instance. ’Tis not only your life you jeopardize, Dominic. Think of Ewan.”

Dominic’s mouth tautened. Lowering his voice to a gravelly whisper, he said, “I do, Gisela. He has been in my thoughts every moment since you told me he is my son.”