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He glanced back at The Stubborn Mule’s doorway. Crenardieu stepped outside. He had lurked inside, waiting also. Invisible in the crowd.

Sweat beaded on Dominic’s brow. He mentally calculated the distance to the alley. If he could keep the men talking and edge backward, he could dart into the streets.

He had to get away. He had to send the missive to Geoffrey.

If these thugs found the parchment on him…

“Crenardieu,” Dominic said with a feigned laugh. “Call off your mongrels, will you?”

The men scowled.

The Frenchman’s lips formed a smug smile. He looked back at the barmaid. “Merci.”

“Me pleasure. ’E ’as the letter on ’im,” she said, toying with her bodice.

Crenardieu handed her coins. Curling her fingers around the money, she smirked at Dominic.

She had betrayed him. God’s blood! What had she said to the Frenchman?

“What, pray tell, do you want with me, Crenardieu? Is this your way of saying you wish to continue our discussion from last night?” Preparing to bolt for the alley, Dominic flexed his fingers on his knife. “If so, I really think⁠—”

The rasp of a boot heel, no more, behind him.

An object slammed into his skull.

Dominic staggered. The tavern spun before him, then listed at an odd angle. Lights flared behind his eyes, searing his eyelids.

“Fool,” Crenardieu muttered.

All went black.

CHAPTER 14

Gisela dropped to her knees before Ewan, amongst the treasures strewn around her. A cry burning her throat, she picked up the fragile daisy chain. Dried petals and stems crumbled in her fingers.

Ruined.

“Mama,” Ewan wailed. “I did not mean to break it.”

She forced down the grief threatening to erupt in a scream. Blinking back tears, she closed her fingers around the mangled treasure and looked up at him. “I know, Button.”

His face crumpled on a sob. “I only wanted the wood.”

Gisela sighed. He had found the delicate, twisted bit of wood on one of their jaunts to the market. After he’d played with it and lost interest, she had tucked it into her box, along with a lock of hair from his very first cutting, his first shoes, and other assorted mementos.

“I wanted a log for Sir Smug’s campfire,” Ewan said with a sniffle.

Spying the wood beside the pallet, she picked it up. “I understand, Button, but I told you before not to go in my box without asking.”

Ewan sobbed again.

With an awkward huff, Ada dropped to her knees beside Gisela. “’Tis my fault. I told him to make a camp.” She started gathering the fallen items. “If I had known⁠—”

“Do not blame yourself,” Gisela said, retrieving the little shoes made of tan leather.

With a loud sniffle, her son dropped to a crouch, bringing his face to her level. He pushed the box toward her. “I am sorry, Mama,” he said again and threw his arms around her. His words muffled against her neck, he said, “I will make you another daisy chain. An even better one.”

The anger inside her dissolved. Tears streaming down her cheeks, she slid her arm around his waist, drew him snug against her, and buried her face in the soft tangle of his hair. “You are, indeed, a most honorable knight,” she murmured.