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Gisela did not seem to need light to guide her—she obviously knew the room’s layout in minute detail—for a moment later, there came a soft click. Light streamed in through a doorway to an adjoining chamber. Surrounded by a bright stream of light, Gisela looked at him. “Wait here.”

“Why?” he asked, before he thought to caution the question.

Looking at him, she pushed back her hood, revealing her hair’s silken tangle. Resolve gleamed in her eyes, while another emotion—wariness, mayhap—hardened her expression. Without answering, she stepped into the chamber beyond and shut the door.

Dominic sighed. Why did she not invite him into the rest of the premises? Why must he wait here, in this empty room, like an unwanted pup?

He should march across the floor, yank open the door, and stride through… But, his wobbly legs might not carry him that far. And, if he guessed correctly, the connecting room was Gisela’s home. Someone had cooked the fare he smelled earlier. Who shared her lodgings? A friend? A relative? Or even… a husband?

Anguish pressed upon Dominic’s soul. Aye, could well be a husband. A comely young woman like Gisela wouldn’t be without a companion. Far wiser, then, for him to wait for an invitation, than to barge in like an arrogant ass. He didn’t need any more bruised ribs.

Hushed conversation reached him. Gingerly folding his arms across his chest, he turned to half-sit on the table. How wondrous to take weight off his unsteady legs.

He closed his eyes to the room’s shadows. Let the quiet seep into him.

Listened.

The voices rose, one childlike and insistent. Three people were in the room beyond. Gisela, another woman, and… a young boy.

Dominic’s eyes flew open. Was the child the woman’s, or Gisela’s?

He uncrossed his arms and pushed to standing, just as the inner door opened. Gisela stepped through, a cautious smile on her lips. She’d removed her cloak, revealing a worn, woolen gown that disguised rather than accentuated her lovely figure. Holding a tallow candle, she walked toward him. “You may come in now.”

“I have triumphed in my initial test?” he quipped.

She frowned. “Test?”

“Trial by endurance,” he said. “Waiting here, all alone, for you to return and fetch me.” He grinned, despite the pain in his jaw. “Sheer agony, I assure you.”

Her worried frown intensified. Raising the flickering candle close to his face, she peered into his eyes. How exquisite she looked, her features softened by the golden light, the dewy pout of her lips tantalizingly close⁠—

“Dominic, did one of the men hit you about the head?”

“Mmm?” He snapped his gaze back up to hers. God’s blood, but he could lose his soul in the beauty of her eyes. Thickly lashed and the color of an Eastern sea, they glimmered with the most intriguing secrets.

“Dominic.”

Still holding her gaze, he winked. “Gisela, I was teasing you.”

“Oh. I see.” Lowering the candle, she stepped away. Even in the shadows, he saw her blush. She gestured to the doorway. “Please. This way.”

He followed her to the threshold. Warmth and light enveloped him as he stepped into the small room beyond. The dirt-floored chamber was sparsely furnished, surprisingly so, considering Gisela’s merchant parents were fairly well off. His gaze skimmed the rough-hewn trestle table and bench, the smaller table in the kitchen area for preparing food, a cupboard, side table, and two lumpy straw pallets pushed against the right wall. A fire crackled in the hearth.

His gaze returned to the trestle table and the black-haired woman wearing a stained apron, who eyed him with suspicion. In front of her, protected by her arm across his chest, stood a young boy of about four years old. His eyes were blue, just like his mother’s. His dark blond hair, however, was inherited from his sire, whoever the man was. Wearing a brown tunic and hose that looked a bit too small, the boy carried a cloth doll under his arm—a knight, judging by the toy’s garments.

The woman nudged the boy, who was peering down at Dominic’s spurs. With a little jump, the lad executed a bow. The woman curtsied.

If his ribs were not aching, Dominic would have responded with a gallant bow in return. Instead, he dipped his head. “Good day.”

Gisela gestured to the woman and boy. “Dominic,” she said, “I would like you to meet Ada, a dear friend of mine.”

The woman nodded. “’Allo.”

A curious tension seemed to define Gisela’s posture before she motioned to the boy. “Dominic, this is Ewan. My son.”

The boy was hers. For one stunned breath, Dominic wondered if he looked upon his own child. Nay. He and Gisela had made love only twice. ’Twas unlikely she had conceived. However, from the boy’s age, Dominic guessed she’d married and got with child shortly after he’d left England.

Her husband must not be here at the moment. He’d return, however, to slide his arm around her, kiss her, and draw his son in to join the embrace.