A Knight's Reward by Catherine Kean Page A

since you are no longer an old and crippled peddler, who are you today?”
    He laughed before executing a careful bow. “I am Dominic de Terre, a wealthy merchant, traveling south to the Port of London,” he said. “I am most eager to buy Eastern silks.” He winked. “Have any you would care to sell me?”
    Her pulse lurched, just as a soft scrape sounded behind her. She turned to see Ewan lingering in the doorway to her home, holding Sir Smug to his chest. The toy knight’s head, covered by a gray woolen helm, stuck out above the little boy’s clasped hands, while his cloth- booted legs dangled against Ewan’s belly.
    “Button.” Tilting her head, she ordered him back inside the house.
    Standing firm, he shook his head. “I heard Dominic.” His gaze slid past her to the open shop window.
    “He is Sir Dominic, to you,” she gently corrected.
    “’Tis all right. He is a fellow warrior, so he does not need to call me ‘Sir,’” Dominic said with a chuckle, his voice rumbling from the window. “Good day, Ewan.”
    “Good day.” Clutching Sir Smug tighter, the little boy stepped farther into the shop.
    Gisela’s hand tightened. “Ewan, remember what I told you.”
    His mouth tightened with stubbornness.
    “Ewan,” she repeated.
    “I found my sword,” he said, still looking at Dominic. His gaze slid back to Gisela. “I cannot find the bit of cloth you gave me, though. ’Tis gone.”
    Aye, Button. Yesterday I burned it in the fire .
    “Do not worry. I will find you another.” She gestured to the house.
    Her son’s gaze sparked with defiance. “That cloth was very soft. I liked the color. I want the same again, Mama. I like bl—”
    “Button, go, as I asked you. If I must tell you one more time—”
    While she meant to scold, her words emerged far sharper than she’d intended. His eyes widened. Regret dissolved her last words.
    His chin quivered. Rebellion, though, still brightened his gaze. “I am tired of being indoors.”
    Her heart squeezed. “I know, Button, but—”
    “How long must I stay inside this house, Mama? Every day ’tis the same.” His voice broke on an angry sob. Squishing Sir Smug in his hands, he scowled, and then threw the toy on the floor. “I want to go home. I do not wish to see Father—he shouted too much—but I want to go back to the big house with the swing. There, I could run outside whenever I liked. There—” He stamped his foot with a frustrated cry.
    How keenly she felt his frustrations. Turning from the window, Gisela went to him, crouched, and slid her arm around him.
    Crossing his arms, he jerked away. He stood in profile, staring at the wall, his face set in a mutinous scowl. Tears glistened along his eyelashes.
    Oh, Button. You have never drawn away from me before.
    The fragile part of her wept. Her little boy was growing. Changing. Testing her, it seemed, in front of Dominic. Pressing her lips together, she steeled her fortitude. Focused on the courage and instinct that kept him safe.
    Never could she forget those.
    Aware of Dominic’s gaze upon them, she rubbed Ewan’s back, a soothing habit he’d enjoyed since he was a baby. “Right now, you must go inside our home, as I bade. Later, we will speak of what troubles you.”
    “Always later,” he grumbled.
    She sighed. If only she could explain the dangers to him. He could not possibly understand, for he was only a child. Moreover, she had done all she could to protect him from the horrors of the night Ryle cut her breast. And, God help her, from Ryle’s murderous threat.
    Reaching out, she picked up Sir Smug. After straightening the knight’s helm, she rose to standing, then handed him back to Ewan.
    Her son looked at her. His intense gaze clearly revealed he understood she wanted him to go back inside. He took Sir Smug. But, he didn’t budge.
    A frustrated scream welled inside her. “Ewan.” She set a firm hand upon his shoulder and steered him toward the doorway.
    Ewan struggled.