Page 54 of A Knight’s Vengeance

Standing next to the hearth, Mildred snorted. “He is far too busy with other matters to worry about a little needlework.” She plopped down in an empty chair, folded her hands over her plump belly, and closed her eyes.

Elizabeth had just resumed her work when a shadow blocked her light. She shifted her weight to take advantage of another slant of sunshine, when realization tore through her in a hot-cold tremor.

De Lanceau stood behind her.

“What mischief do you make, milady?” His voice rumbled like thunder.

Clutching the tunic, Elizabeth leapt to her feet. Partway to the stairwell, Elena spun and looked about to faint with fright. Her mouth moved, but no sound emerged.

De Lanceau looked from Elena to Mildred, then at Elizabeth. As he folded his arms and quirked an eyebrow, she shivered. “Well?”

Mildred cleared her throat. “Milord, if I may explain.”

His gaze did not move from Elizabeth’s face. “Aye?”

“Milady offered to help Elena with the embroidery,” the matron said matter-of-factly.

“Did she, now?” He snatched the tunic from Elizabeth’s hands and scrutinized her stitches. Surprise and admiration lightened his gaze, and his lashes flicked up. “You did this?”

“I did.”

He swiveled and faced Elena. “Is that so?”

The maid nodded.

“Your work is fine, damsel. Very fine, indeed.” His mouth curved into a grudging, lop-sided grin.

Elizabeth’s breath suspended, caught by a shimmering magic. His smile held no hint of mockery or malice, but genuine respect. A reverent gleam in his eyes, he traced the embroidery with his thumb. She forced herself to look away.

The matron beamed. “Lady Anne had uncommon skill with a needle and thread, and taught Elizabeth. You were but a scrawny girl when you learned your first stitches, were you not, milady?”

A groan scratched Elizabeth’s throat. “Mildred.”

De Lanceau chuckled.

The matron tossed her gray braid. “He should appreciate your talent. Many noble ladies embroider, but few have the skill of our dear Lady Anne, bless her departed soul.” Her thick brows rose. “Or you, milady. I would wager every good tooth in my mouth that your stitching is the finest in all of England.”

Elizabeth blushed. “Mildred.”

The rogue’s grin widened, and Elizabeth’s stomach swooped like one of the diving robins.

“With your talent, he should be paying you to fix that tunic.”

An exasperated sigh burst from Elizabeth. “Mildred, cease!”

De Lanceau laughed. “Fret not, milady.”

Her face burning, Elizabeth dared to glance at him. His eyes glinted with humor. He bowed his head to her, an elegant, chivalric gesture that made her pulse thump a little faster, and held the tunic out to her.

She hesitated, pretending she did not care whether she finished the task or not, then took it. His smile broadened, and, to her dismay, her blush deepened. She cursed herself for reacting like a giddy girl.

“Milord,” Elena said in a hushed voice, her fingers knotted into the front of her bliaut. “May I⁠—”

He dismissed her with a nod. “Resume your duties.”

Elena pointed to the silk in Elizabeth’s hand. “The tear?”

“Lady Elizabeth will finish the repair, since she has the greater skill. If she so wishes,” he added.