Page 124 of A Knight’s Vengeance

“I remember well, but I did not think⁠—”

“That I would still work on it once I was rescued from Branton?” She swept a ringlet out of the needle’s path. “’Tis my gift to you. When you set it upon your horse, and ride out among the people of Moydenshire, they will know you are Lord Geoffrey de Lanceau, proud son of Edouard.”

Tears dampened his eyes. “You are my greatest gift,” he said, heating his words with sensual promise.

Her face pinkened, and she resumed stitching. A moment later, she let out a delighted whoop, snapped a length of silver thread, and held the trapping aloft. “Look.”

The rips in the silk were gone. Her clever mending could not disguise where they had been, but again, the magnificent hawk glowed on the silk, its wings extended as it prepared to soar.

The trapping was whole again, as he remembered when a boy.

He blinked hard, overwhelmed by gratitude. “Thank you.”

Her lips curved in a saucy smile, and she winked. “Later, you may thank me.”

Dominic whistled. “Milord, if I may be so bold as to intrude, the lady and I have discussed a new project. She will begin once she has finished the garments for the orphans.”

“Orphans?” Dragging his gaze from Elizabeth’s lush mouth, Geoffrey shoved aside fantasies of lusty thank-you kisses.

“She is embroidering clothes for the children in the local orphanage. A special donation to commemorate her mother and sister’s passing a year ago. She was working on this when you abducted her.”

Guilt wove through Geoffrey. “I see.” He looked at Elizabeth, but she was picking threads from her bliaut.

“The new project,” Dominic said, “is a banner to honor you.”

Geoffrey raised his eyebrows.

Elizabeth looked up and giggled. Mischief warmed her eyes.

Dominic’s hand moved in the air as he rendered an invisible picture. “The banner will feature a silver shield on blue silk. In the center, she will stitch a great boar, with its lips curled back in a ferocious scowl.”

Geoffrey was not sure whether to laugh or groan. “A boar?”

“A demented boar.” Dominic beamed. “A grand idea, aye?”

“His strength is returning at a remarkable rate,” Mildred said three days later. She stood at Geoffrey’s bedside, stirring an herbal infusion into a goblet of red wine. “’Tis not surprising, Lord Brackendale, since he does whatever I tell him and is basking in all the attention.”

Arthur grunted. He stood leaning his shoulder against the wall, as far as he could be from Geoffrey in the room, Elizabeth noted. Although news of Geoffrey’s awakening had spread throughout the keep, her father had not revisited the chamber until this morning. He did not look at all pleased by Mildred’s good news. In fact, his forbidding frown seemed to deepen.

Blankets rustled, and Elizabeth looked over at Geoffrey. He grinned at her, and awareness and happiness swooped through her in a giddy rush.

“How could I not recover,” he said, “when my betrothed takes such tender care of me, and when your medicine is delivered in such exceptional syrup.” When Mildred lowered the goblet to his mouth, he took an obedient sip. “Delicious, except for the musky aftertaste.”

The healer shrugged. “The servants tell me there are ten barrels of this wine in the storage cellar. I cannot imagine a jug or two will be missed.”

“You give him the Bordeaux?” Arthur growled.

Geoffrey’s eyes brightened. “Bordeaux? Mmm.”

“That wine cost Sedgewick a great deal of coin,” Arthur said, his face reddening. “’Twas for Elizabeth’s wedding.”

Elizabeth set down the child’s chemise she was embroidering. Whatever her father and Geoffrey had still to discuss between them, those matters were best left until Geoffrey’s wounds had improved. “Father, please.”

Geoffrey’s gaze sharpened. “What wedding?”

Arthur shoved away from the wall. “The marriage planned between my daughter and the baron before you chose to wreak vengeance. The one Sedgewick rescheduled assuming you would be dead and buried.”

Elizabeth feared to look at Geoffrey and see his fury. Yet, when she glanced at him, his expression held understanding.