Page 60
He frowned. “What do you mean, nay?”
Her lashes dropped a fraction, veiling the spark of her eyes. “Crenardieu has no part in what I must…”—she shivered and clasped her hands—”what I will tell you.”
Disbelief weighed like a stone in Dominic’s gut. He’d been so sure about her revelation. His gut instinct screamed that she had information about the missing silks and that Crenardieu was responsible for stealing Geoffrey’s shipment.
His frown deepened, for Gisela’s hands were quivering. An awkward giggle escaped her. “Now the moment is upon me, I do not know how to begin.”
Her wobbly voice melted some of his irritation. Glaring at her was hardly the way to encourage her to share what she knew. He must assure her, with words and comforting gestures, that he wouldn’t cast judgment upon what she told him. “Why not start with how you came to bear this knowledge?”
She blinked, tears sparkling along her lower lashes. “Bear this knowledge,” she repeated softly with another laugh. “Oh, God.”
Her shrill tone grated on his nerves. Patience, Dominic. Setting his hands on his hips, he studied her, barely resisting the urge to place his hands upon her shoulders and persuade her with a caress.
After inhaling a tremulous breath, she said, “’Tis about… us.”
“Us,” he repeated. Confusion tangled with a wild, yearning anticipation. Memories flooded into his mind, careening one over another.
“What happened between you and… me years ago.”
He squinted at her. “’Tis not about the silk?”
“Silk!” Her face whitened. “Why would you think that I—”
“Why would I not? Every thread of information I have discovered so far leads me to Crenardieu. And, Sweet Daisy, to you.”
“Me?” Her breathless whisper seemed to hover in the room.
“Aye. You.”
Her hand fluttered to her throat. Her lips parted. She clearly intended to refute him, but no sound emerged. Not even the faintest, choked protest.
Anxiety widened her watery eyes. Then, her gaze sharpened with determination. She whirled and marched to the door, her hair swaying to and fro against her back.
He scowled at her. “Gisela!”
She flinched, but didn’t halt or glance back at him.
“Do not run from me.” He stormed after her.
“Run? Why should I?” she shot back. “Show me the louts who are spying on me. Ask them about the accursed silk. They will know far more than I.”
He might have believed her, except she was now shaking from head to toe. And her voice… Her desperation revealed all. Her will might be strong, but her body betrayed her.
Gisela grabbed the door handle. Yanked the panel open.
Striding up behind her, he clamped his hand over hers. He shoved the door closed with a firm click.
She stood very still, clearly frozen by the subtle but meaningful show of force, her breathing coming in uneven gasps. Pressed lightly against her back, he felt each inhalation and shudder. She stared at his hand covering hers as though unable to tear her gaze away.
Dominic couldn’t help but spread his fingers wider upon her skin, to touch more of her. To feel her. He wanted to groan aloud with the pleasure of touching her.
She swallowed. As he looked at her taut profile, the petal-smooth column of her neck begged for his kiss. His gaze moved down, to her tantalizing cleavage at the top of her bodice, and he fought his own shudder. Ah, God, he couldn’t help but stare.
He hauled his focus back to her face—the delicate line of her jaw, her rose-pink mouth, her smooth cheek… perfection in each curve. No well-bred noblewoman’s profile could be more exquisite.
“Crenardieu’s men—” she said in a strained whisper.
“I do not wish to ask them,” he said just as softly. “I wish to ask you.”
