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Gisela picked up the knife and bread loaf. “I will make you a daisy.” She cut a slice and then opened the honey pot. Using the tip of the knife, she put a dollop of honey in the middle of the bread. “The center of the daisy is bright yellow like the sun,” she said. Then, with more honey, she drew rounded petals. “The rest of the flower is white.”

“Like snow,” Ewan said. “Remember, a few months ago, when the snow made it hard to walk to the market?”

Gisela smiled. “Aye.” She pushed the bread toward him. “Daisies thrive in meadows and fields where there is lots of sunshine. They are such happy flowers.”

Indeed, Dominic had commented so when he’d linked together daisy stems to make her a necklace. She still had that fragile, delicate daisy chain in her box of treasures.

Ewan chewed a big mouthful of bread. “I think I will like daisies.” His expression turned thoughtful. “Mama, do you think dragons eat daisies?”

Sadness wove through her. “Aye, Button,” she said softly. “I do.”

CHAPTER 6

The next morning, sunshine streamed in through the open window of Gisela’s shop while she sat on a wooden stool stitching the pinned sleeves of the gown for the blacksmith’s wife. Earlier, Gisela had drawn her worktable away from the wall and pushed it into the space by the window, to take advantage of the natural light—and thus not waste her dwindling supply of candles.

A warm breeze swept in over the fold-down board fronting her premises, stirring the linen shifts and girls’ dresses she’d hung on each side of the opening. From outside came the gritty footfalls of passersby, the squeaks and rumbles of wagons, blended with snatches of conversation. Somewhere close by, children shrieked and giggled, likely playing a game in the street.

Another yawn broke past Gisela’s lips: her penance for working so late into the night. She had not been able to continue with Varden’s commission until Ewan had fallen asleep, Sir Smug tucked in beside him. Her little boy had lain with one arm curled under his tousled head, the other resting on his wooden sword—no longer tied with blue silk—lying atop his blanket. “I am sleeping as a knight on crusade,” he’d said in such a serious tone.

She’d nodded, tucked the worn blanket about him, and lain beside him until his eyelids drifted closed and his mouth had drooped in sleep. Then, as quietly as possible, she’d retreated into her shop, raised the floorboards to reveal the concealed storage space, and carefully removed the luxurious silk. Burning far more candles than she could afford, she’d measured, cut, and stitched the shimmering blue cloth that reminded her of a summer sky.

Ewan’s roar echoed inside the living area of her premises, startling Gisela from her recollections. “Ha! You will never defeat me, stupid dragon! Slink away, O beast with stinky breath, or you will feel the bite of my sword!”

Shaking her head, Gisela smiled. How he loved Sir Smug and the cloth dragon she’d made him from fabric scraps. From the sounds of things, quite a battle raged in her home.

Smoothing a wrinkle from the gown’s sleeve, she blinked fatigue from her gaze. She raised the fabric closer to her eyes to catch a tricky stitch…

The light in her shop window vanished.

A customer? She glanced up.

Dominic stood outside, his hands braced on either side of the window frame. With him standing at such an angle, his broad body blocked most of her incoming light. The majority of his face and torso looked in shadow. Leaning forward, grinning, he murmured, “Good morn.”

The gown dropped from her fingers. A wave of sensation whooshed through her—surprise, delight… Guilt. A damning blush rushed to her cheeks. “Hello, Dominic.”

His smile widened, revealing his pleasingly straight teeth. “You did not expect to see me?”

She cleared an awkward croak from her voice. “I did not know quite what to expect after yesterday. You did not say you would visit my shop this morn.”

Oh, God. She hadn’t meant to sound petulant—as if she’d anxiously counted every passing moment since he left and wondered when she’d see him again.

Although she had.

With such passionate intensity, she’d pricked her finger three times yester eve. She’d had to wait for the blood to dry before she could continue her sewing.

“Surely you did not believe I would simply vanish after finding you again?”

How softly he spoke. Yet, each word seemed to sink down inside her, like gold coins tossed into a lake.

Fie! She could not read more into his words, or hope that whatever they had shared before could ever be theirs again. “I thought mayhap your… affairs might keep you away.”

Dominic shook his head. Drawing one hand from the window, he pushed windblown hair from his eyes. Sunlight struck him full on the face and torso.

Gisela gasped again. “Your tunic!”

Dominic laughed. “Quite fetching, is it not?”

The wooden stool scraped on the planks as she jumped to her feet. No longer did he wear simple, plain garments. Today, he wore a wool tunic the rich, dark blue of a twilight sky. Red and silver embroidery twined about the collar and sleeves. Stepping around the table’s edge, she moved between it and the window for a better look.