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For a kiss!
Blood pounded at his temple. His mouth flooded with the delicious, remembered taste of her. Gisela’s lips had opened like a flower bud beneath his. He had tasted her and drowned in her ambrosial perfection.
Desire sprang hot in his groin. Gisela said she had no husband. However, if she’d run away, she remained bound to the man by law. She still belonged to the husband she feared.
Step away! his conscience shouted. She is no longer yours to kiss. You did not marry her years ago, and now she is beyond your grasp.
How he ached to press his lips to hers. To again taste her sweet essence. Need rushed like floodwater through his veins, so excruciatingly powerful…
“Sweet Daisy,” he whispered.
She inhaled a shivered breath. Beneath the golden veil of her lashes, her eyes darkened with yearning. Ah, God, she wanted his kiss. Wanted it as much as he!
Dominic reached for her. Every muscle in his body anticipated her fragrant softness in his arms…
Her hands shot up, her fingers splayed like spent petals about to drop to the ground.
She denied him! Denied him!
Fighting the surging heat inside him, he lowered his arms to his sides. “What—”
A scuffling noise came from behind him. He hadn’t noticed the sound before. Yet, she had.
Following her gaze, Dominic turned. Ewan stood in the doorway.
“Mama, is that man gone?”
Gisela’s head dipped in a jerky nod. With a swipe of her fingers, she dried her eyes and smiled at Ewan. Through months of practice, it seemed, she’d learned to hide her unhappiness from her son.
“I am hungry.”
As am I, a voice inside Dominic growled. Starved for my Sweet Daisy’s kiss.
Gisela crossed to the little boy. “I will fetch you some bread and honey after my appointment with the blacksmith’s wife.”
“The blacksmith’s wife?” Dominic ground out.
Gisela’s eyes flared with surprise, no doubt because of his surly tone. She gestured to the garment draped over her worktable. “I promised to finish her gown this week. She is coming by for a fitting.”
Footsteps crunched outside the doorway and then a woman walked in, her sturdy shoes rapping on the planks. Her face as brown and wrinkled as a dried apple, she smiled at Gisela. “’Allo.”
Gisela smiled back. “Good day.”
Go away, Apple Wench. Leave us to finish what we must say to one another.
Biting down the words, Dominic said to Gisela. “I will take my leave and return at a more convenient time. I will see you anon.” He nodded to Ewan. “Little warrior.”
The boy scowled at him. “You cannot go. You promised to tell me about the maiden and the dragon.”
Dominic couldn’t resist a grin. “I did. And I shall, when I next see you.”
He strode past the woman, now chatting to Gisela, and out into the dusty street. A horse-drawn cart rumbled by, its wooden wheels grinding up a cloud of dust. Waving it out of his face, he headed down the street toward the shops Gisela had led him past the other day.
Forcing aside tantalizing thoughts of kissing Gisela, he recalled Crenardieu strolling into and out of her premises. Mentally blocking out the cacophonous street sounds around him, Dominic pictured the Frenchman’s stance, gait, and mannerisms. With each stride, Dominic’s posture changed. His strides lengthened to convey the arrogance of a wealthy man who used his coin to manipulate those around him.
Dominic smiled. Astonishing how coin had the power to win over a man.
Or, indeed, a woman.
