A Knight's Reward (35 page)

“I agree.” De Lanceau strode toward them, sheathing his broadsword.

“You saw what happened?” Dominic asked.

De Lanceau nodded, and Gisela shuddered as his gaze settled upon her. “You may be common born,” he said with a smile, “but you are as noble as any highborn lady.”

“Gisela, the Fair Lady Warrior,” Dominic added with a wink.

She smiled, and de Lanceau chuckled.

Shouts drew her attention to the riverbank. Standing by the dock, their hands bound, a scowling Crenardieu and the London merchants stood under the watchful guard of de Lanceau’s men-at-arms. Three thugs lay dead, their bodies sprawled in the shallows. Aldwin stood on the dock, relaying orders while helping the other men transfer the silks from the boats back into the wagon.

“We will soon return to Branton Keep,” Gisela said, unable to stop her voice from catching. How she longed to take her little boy in her arms and hug him, to rejoice in knowing that at last, he was safe from Ryle. But, upon her return, she must accept her punishment from de Lanceau.

Dominic eased her away. “A word, milord.” Touching her sleeve, he said, “I will be only a moment.”

She watched him stride away, speaking in low tones to de Lanceau. She hugged herself, unable to stifle a chill. How handsome Dominic looked, despite his tattered garments and wounds. Naught could disguise his noble strength. Standing beside de Lanceau, he clearly belonged among the highborn. Far beyond her common reach.

Loneliness pressed down upon her, crushing her earlier bloom of relief. Whatever her fate, she would accept it.

De Lanceau nodded and grinned. Then, he clapped Dominic on the shoulder before they walked back to her.

“I have considered all that occurred today,” de Lanceau said, warmth in his compelling gray gaze. “Above all, the fact that you selflessly risked your own life to save Dominic’s. I have also taken into regard your earlier revelations at Branton Keep and at your home.”

Gisela bit down on her lip. “Aye, milord.”

I have sentenced you to my dungeon for the rest of your living days
.

“While I cannot condone all of your decisions, I believe you did what was necessary to protect not only your own life, but that of your young son.” He paused. “Dominic’s child.”

Blinking hard, she nodded.

“Therefore—”

Please, God, let him be merciful. Please, do not take Ewan from me. Please, please . . .

“—since your decisions were made for the well-being of his son—”

Please, please!

“I leave any punishment entirely up to Dominic.”

Exhaling a stunned breath, Gisela said, “Dominic?”

Slipping his arm around her waist, he kissed her cheek. “Since I am heartily glad Ryle is dead, you kept my son safe from his murderous rage, and all of Geoffrey’s silks were recovered”—he shrugged—“I see only one resolution, really.”

She gasped. “Oh!” Then she frowned. “What resolution?”

De Lanceau clapped his hands together. “’Tis settled, then.”

Confusion bubbled up inside Gisela. “Dominic?”

Mischief glinted in his eyes. “We will discuss it, Sweet Daisy, on our return to Branton Keep.”

Chapter Twenty-Two

Seated behind Gisela on her horse, Dominic took her to the meadow close to Branton Keep. The castle, standing on the nearby hill, looked down over the expansive field brightened by poppies, daisies, and cornflowers.

Four times she’d asked that he reveal her fate.

Four times, smothering a smile, he’d refused.

After drawing the horse to a halt in the middle of the meadow, he slid down, and then helped her dismount. Leaving the animal to graze, he caught Gisela’s hand. He led her farther into the wildflowers and grasses, rousing butterflies and bumblebees as he walked.

“Dominic, please! Will you tell me now?”

She sounded so frantic, he paused and faced her. How beautiful she was standing amid the flowers, her hair tangled from their ride. She looked even more lovely than years ago. He fought the desire to pull her into his arms, kiss her until her mouth was as red as poppies, and then draw her down among the grasses.

Instead, he slipped his hand from hers and picked a daisy.

“I cannot bear not knowing,” she said.

“Very well.” He handed her the bloom. “I never want us to be apart again.”

She took the daisy. Elation filled her eyes, but also painful doubt.

“Never again,” he whispered, reaching for her.

She hesitated, her eyes brimming with tears. Then, with a sobbed sigh, she melted into his embrace. His lips found hers, and he kissed her, deeply, urgently, starved for her essence.

Placing her hands on either side of his face, she kissed him back. Without restraint. With a hunger that roused his to a fever pitch. Groaning, he urged her down to the ground. She lay on her back, while, careful of his wounds, he reclined beside her, one hand clasping hers. “I love you, Gisela.”

She gazed up at him, tears shimmering on her lashes. “As I love you.”

“Marry me.”

She froze. Her throat moved with an awkward swallow before she said, “’Tis impossible. I am a commoner.”

“I care not. Neither does de Lanceau. He is in favor of our marriage. As a wedding gift, he will award me one of his small estates.” He kissed her hand. “My mother would be proud.”

“Aye, she would.” Gisela’s lips formed a shaky smile. “So, I vow, would your father.”

Indeed, he might. But, at this moment, Dominic had more important matters to consider.

A dull ache spread through his chest. Gisela hadn’t accepted his proposal. Did she not wish to wed him?

“Please, Gisela, marry me. You are the mother of my son. The woman who saved my life.” He pressed her fingers. “I want no one else.”

“Oh, Dominic.” She sniffled. Gently touching his bruised face, she whispered, “How many nights I dreamed of lying with you again. Of being together.”

His brow creased in a mock frown. “Hmm. Are you saying ‘aye’ to my proposal?”

“Hmm . . .” she repeated, mischief in her eyes. “I believe . . . Aye.”

“At last,” he murmured, sweeping his lips over hers.

Gisela smiled up at him, joy in her eyes. “Ewan will be so excited.”

“I cannot wait to tell him he is my son.” Dominic imagined the little boy’s face brightening when they told him the news. How Dominic looked forward to embracing his son. To teaching him the nuances of swordplay, archery, and . . .

“Imagine,” he said. “A family of warriors.”

She giggled, and he kissed her again, with all the love pouring from his soul. His hands trembling, he removed her garments until she lay naked before him. With a coy smile, she helped him remove his tunic and hose. Then, the linen bandages still wrapped around his ribs.

As the extent of his beatings was revealed, concern filled her gaze, but Dominic firmly shook his head. “Our lovemaking may not be quite as . . . lusty on this occasion”—he winked—“but my wounds will heal quickly.”

“They will,” she agreed, “for I will ensure they do.” While she spoke, her fingers brushed the swollen heat of him, as though discovering him anew. Closing his eyes, Dominic shuddered with pleasure. How he had missed coupling with her.

Leaning forward, he kissed her throat, shoulder blade, and the valley between her breasts.

Her hands flitted up to cover her scar.

“Gisela.” He nibbled her fingers before drawing them away. Anguish clouded her gaze, but he kissed her scar’s ragged line. “You are more beautiful to me now, Sweet Daisy.”

“Really?” she whispered.

He nodded. “This scar is a mark of honor. Proof of the dragon you battled—and defeated.”

Kissing her again, he moved over her. When their bodies touched, she sighed and arched up, answering the bold insistence of his manhood. “Aye, Dominic,” she whispered. “Aye.”

He slid into her. Groaned.

Ah, God!

A ragged cry broke from her. “Dominic,” she whimpered.

And he was lost.

As he surrendered to the rhythm of long ago, he savored the joy of pleasuring Gisela. The relief they would never again be apart. The knowledge that, at long last, she belonged to him.

The greatest reward of all.

—The End—

Watch for the rest of Catherine Kean’s award-winning Knight’s Series, to be released in

eBook format in 2012:

A Knight’s Temptation
(Book 3)—Aldwin’s story

A Knight’s Persuasion
(Book 4)—Young Edouard de Lanceau’s story

***

Other eBooks by Catherine Kean, Available Now:

Bound by His Kiss (Novella)

Dance of Desire

My Lady’s Treasure

A Knight’s Vengeance
(Knight’s Series Book 1)—Geoffrey de Lanceau’s story

A Knight’s Reward
(Knight’s Series Book 2)—Dominic’s story

If you enjoyed
A Knight’s Reward
by Catherine Kean, look for her award-winning medieval romance
Chapter
Dance of Desire
. Read on to sample the first two chapters . . .

Dance of Desire

She risked everything in one seductive dance . . .

Disguised as a veiled courtesan, Lady Rexana Villeaux dances for Fane Linford, the new High Sheriff of Warringham. Desperate to distract him while her servant steals the missive that condemns her brother as a traitor to the Crown, she entices Fane with all the passion in her soul—and he is tempted.

A hero of the crusades, Fane has been granted an English bride by the king. Fane wants only one woman: the exquisite dancer. When he discovers she’s actually a highborn lady, and that her rebellious brother is imprisoned in his dungeon, he will have no other wife but her.

Rexana doesn’t want to become the sheriff’s bride, but it may be the only way to save her brother. Yet, as she learns more about her brooding husband tormented by barbaric secrets, she finds it harder and harder to deny his love or their dance of desire.

Dance of Desire

Chapter One

Tangston Keep, England, 1192

“I do not like this wretched scheme, milady.”

Lady Rexana Villeaux shivered in the icy night wind that whipped into Tangston Keep’s forebuilding. “I know, Henry, but ’tis the only way to get the list of traitors.”

She drew against the stone wall, into the shadows at the bottom of the stairs. Bawdy laughter and the music of lute and drum carried down into the passage from the great hall. As she smoothed the veil covering her nose and mouth and the silk over her head, tiny bells tinkled at her wrists. The jewelry’s weight pressed upon her skin, a foreign sensation.

She inhaled a shaky breath. Would her deception succeed?

In the dim light, Henry glanced at her, his gaze worried. Rexana’s belly clenched into a knot. She must not succumb to fear. She must focus on her task. Her brother’s life depended on her. Dear, impetuous Rudd, the only family she had left.

Wiping her sweaty palms on her embroidered skirt, she started up the stairs.

Henry strode beside her. Torchlight flickered on his silvery hair and shadowed the grim set of his mouth. “I hope your hot-headed fool of a brother appreciates the risk you are taking to save his arse.”

Rexana shot Henry a sharp glance. “Mind your tongue. He is not your pupil in the tiltyards any longer, but master of Ickleton Keep. Your lord.”

“With respect, he is fifteen and very much a boy.” Henry wagged a finger, callused from years of wielding a sword. “I still remember the day your mother and father presented him to me, all pink, squished, and noisy as a pig’s fart.”

Her heart squeezed. “Henry!”

“You are right. ’Tis no time to speak of such matters. May your parents forever rest in peace.” Henry’s eyes darkened. With a scarred hand, he caught her elbow, halting her just outside the light spilling in from the hall. “Milady, look at you. An earl’s daughter, dressed like an infidel whore. What madness convinced me to let you go through with this?”

She swallowed a sting of irritation. Heaven above, she did not need his permission. When would Henry cease treating her like the child he had bounced on his knee and hand-fed expensive sweetmeats? “Not madness, Henry. Fate. The girl who plays the Saracen’s lover in the local mummer’s troupe would have entertained the sheriff—”

“Except she fell ill.” Henry nodded. “I helped her through Ickleton’s gates, then summoned the healer.”

“A boon, that her costume fit me well enough.”

He snorted in clear disapproval. “Nay, a curse.”

Rexana looked down at her stiff fingers, darkened like her body with thin layers of flour and mud. “The girl knew of no one to take her place, and it provided us a way to get through Tangston’s gates. Henry, we
must
find the missive that lists the names of sworn traitors. The one the sheriff intends to send to the crown.”

“Because somehow Rudd’s signature is on the document.” Henry sighed. “Could the maidservant who fled Tangston be mistaken about what she overheard? She was half mad, ranting about the sheriff’s barbaric ways—”

“Her dead sire swore fealty to my father. Moreover, she is a friend of Rudd’s. She had no reason to speak false.” Cheers and laughter erupted in the hall and, with a shudder, Rexana looked toward the noise. “Rudd is not involved in the rebellion stirring against the crown. I will not see him ruined by accusations of treachery.”

Henry touched her arm. “Please. Must you dance? We will find another way to save Rudd.”

“There is no other way.” Rexana curled her clammy hands into fists. “I can delay no longer. The others know what to do?”

“Aye.”

Footfalls echoed in the corridor. She glanced past Henry to see four musicians approach, men loyal to her and Rudd. They willingly risked their lives this eve. For that, she would be forever grateful.