“Because I am in London, not Edinburgh.” She suddenly understood the suspicion behind the question. “You fear that I have already sold the same images to him, and seek to duplicate my good fortune by duplicating the images themselves, don’t you? I assure you that each one is different. You will not find when you get to Flanders that the pattern is already in use. These are unique.”

He looked them over once more, than began folding them. “One pound.”

“You will get three in Flanders.”

“I may get nothing in Flanders, and it will be many months before I find out. By then I could have turned the one pound into three without the trouble of leaving London.”

For a handsome man with a gracious manner, he drew a hard bargain. “One pound then.” It would be enough, and she had a bit more coin stashed away. The provisions today had not depleted that little hoard. She had bought them on King Edward’s tally. Edward’s orders had hauled Genith here and, by the saints, he could pay the cost of getting her out, too.

“Would you prefer coin or goods?”

She eyed the velvets bulging on the shelves above her basket. Reaching up, she fingered the sensual nap of a green bolt. It had been years since she had indulged in such pleasures. “Coin. I cannot afford your mercery now.”

While he went to the back chamber to get the coin, she stroked the velvet again. Her mind’s eye saw it cut into a slim surcotte, with a cotehardie of deep rose wool underneath.

“If you have more tapestry designs, bring them. If I carry three to Flanders, I may as well carry six,” he said when he returned.

She took the coin and picked up her basket. “I thank you, but I leave the city soon and there will be no time to bring you more. Good day to you.”

Her duties completed, Nesta walked down the street more slowly than she had come, admiring the colorful signs swinging overhead, enjoying the talk and laughter leaking into the lane from the open doors and windows. That was what she had missed most the last few years—joyful noise. She dawdled at some windows, watching the craftsmen work or feasting her eyes on the expensive wares. These were very fine shops, the kind that made a person itch to buy and buy and gorge the senses on colors and textures and glittering surfaces.

She was admiring the weavings in a draper’s window when the air around her changed. A thundering storm had appeared out of nowhere to spoil her morning.

“When did you arrive in London? I was told that Genith’s sister was in a convent in Scotland.” The voice by her shoulder was very annoyed.

She glanced up at Sir Marcus. His dark eyes glinted and his face appeared incredibly handsome but extremely stern.