Ewan held out his hand, and Honora returned the blade to him, grip first. He introduced her to his brother, and Honora looked as though she wanted to disappear into the wall.
‘Welcome home.’ Patrick clapped him on the back, then turned his attention to Honora. His eyes glinted with amusement. ‘You remind me of Isabel. A time or two, she’s drawn a knife on me as well.’
‘It’s a bad habit of mine,’ Honora confessed, her cheeks flushing. Then she turned back to him. ‘I’m sorry, Ewan. I shouldn’t have done that.’
He gripped her hand, squeezing it tightly. Beneath his breath, he warned, ‘Don’t do it again.’
Honora had simply taken his breath away when he’d seen her. Dressed like one of his kinswomen, the rich cornflower-blue overdress and creamy léine made Honora’s skin the colour of moonlight. The gown hung in soft folds, accentuating her slender waist.
Before she could respond, his brother intervened. ‘Ewan, take Honora and introduce her to the rest of the MacEgans while I find Isabel. We will talk of your trouble at the Welsh coast later.’
Ewan took Honora’s hand and led her into the Great Chamber. All of his kinsmen and family were gathered around, sitting at the long trestle tables while Queen Isabel waited at the dais for her husband the King. There were places for each of his brothers and their wives, but he noticed that his brother Trahern’s place was empty.
Gazing around at the dozens of tables heaped with food, the harpists and bards, Honora paled. ‘I never expected this much.’
‘Kings are expected to give large entertainments.’ Ewan led her to the dais and the chairs waiting for them. Aileen and Connor’s twin boys raced in front of them, nearly causing Honora to stumble. Ewan picked the pair up by their tunics, handing them off to their father.
Connor grimaced and carried a boy under each arm. ‘No sweets for either of you.’
When they reached the dais, Ewan brought Honora to the centre of the table, where they would sit near his brother Patrick. All eyes turned towards her with curiosity, and he heard the low murmur of gossip.
Although Patrick introduced her as an honoured visitor, Ewan knew everyone believed Honora was going to be his bride. For once, he was thankful she didn’t speak the Irish language, for she wouldn’t hear the jests of his kinsmen.
Through their eyes, he saw her loveliness. Brave and strong, she was a woman worth fighting for. A woman any man would want to wed.
It troubled him to realise that he didn’t want to let her go, despite her vow to Ceredys.
When at last they were seated, Honora leaned in, whispering in his ear, ‘I feel like running away. I’ve never seen so many people staring at me.’ The warmth of her breath against his skin caused an involuntary shiver.
‘Then run away with me. Later tonight, as you promised.’ Ewan rested his palm upon her hand beneath the table.
Honora took a long sip of wine, but didn’t smile at his teasing. Instead, she appeared lost in all the conversation and the people watching her.
‘Ewan, stop casting eyes upon Honora,’ Connor interrupted, speaking the Norman tongue for her benefit. ‘I want to hear the story of how you managed to be trapped by Norman soldiers and rescued by a woman.’
Ewan glared at his brother, sending Connor a silent warning to cease his questions. He wanted Honora to enjoy the feasting, not endure an interrogation. ‘Misfortune seems to find me,’ was all he said.
But Honora turned towards Connor, apologising. ‘It was my fault. When I travelled with Ewan, we were pursued by a dozen men.’
Patrick had leaned in to hear her explanation, and Honora turned to both of them. ‘Were either of you familiar with my husband, Ranulf of Ceredys? Or his son, John?’
Ewan expected Patrick to deny it, but instead his brother inclined his head. ‘Unfortunately, I did make the Baron’s acquaintance, years ago. But not his son.’ From the look on the King’s face, it was clear he’d had no liking for Ranulf.
‘John causes far too much suffering,’ Honora said. ‘They do not deserve to live as they do. I vowed to return to Ceredys and help them.’
‘I suppose John is like his father,’ Patrick said quietly.
‘Yes.’ Honora picked at her food, then confessed, ‘I tried to hire mercenaries. But they stole the money and did nothing to help.’
Mercenaries? Ewan’s hand tightened upon Honora’s. He hadn’t known she’d resorted to such desperate tactics. She was lucky they’d merely stolen her coins and not tried to harm her in other ways.
Patrick’s expression grew dour. ‘Overthrowing Ceredys wouldn’t help your people. The King would not support your efforts, nor would he allow you to take possession of the land. Does the Baron have an heir?’
She shook her head. ‘I don’t think so.’
‘Even if Ceredys were dead, his portion of the estate and his title would pass onto another heir. Perhaps to a cousin.’
Honora palmed her eating knife. ‘I cannot abandon the people. I feel responsible for them.’
Patrick studied her for a long moment, his gaze passing to Ewan. Then he said, ‘God be with you on your venture.’
His brother’s response wasn’t at all what Ewan had expected. It would be a simple matter to spare twenty men, but the King had ignored the unspoken request for help, turning the topic back to the Midsummer’s Eve preparations.
It was clear his brother didn’t want to involve the MacEgan tribe in a war against the Baron of Ceredys, not for Honora’s sake. And while he understood Patrick’s desire to keep their people separated from the conflict, Ewan wasn’t about to let Honora go to Ceredys alone.
Now it seemed finding an army was going to be a problem. His kinsmen would not cross the sea and risk their lives out of friendship. Honora would need silver or another means of payment.
As each hour passed, Ewan sensed Honora was growing more overwhelmed. Her smile was forced, and she didn’t understand any of the conversations without his translation.
‘Walk with me,’ he said softly, taking her hand once more. Honora stood, and Ewan made their excuses. His brothers shot him teasing remarks as he left, but he ignored them.
He led Honora to a more private corner, at the top of the battlements. Here, they could look out over the landscape, towards the glittering sea and the vast kingdom that belonged to his brother.
‘You aren’t happy here,’ he said to her. ‘I can see it in your eyes.’
She sat down upon the stone staircase and rested her hands on her knees. ‘I’ll be fine. I’m just feeling uncertain about the future.’
He sat beside her. ‘I’m not sorry you’re here.’ It bothered him to see her so troubled, and he wondered how he could set her at ease.
Honora leaned her head against his shoulder and stared out at the castle. Torches flamed against the stone walls while dozens of soldiers kept watch. ‘I suppose I can feel safe from John within these castle walls.’
‘Patrick believes in a strong defence.’
She frowned a moment later and pointed to a segment of the inner bailey wall where a medium-sized hole remained. ‘What happened there? Shouldn’t you repair that breach?’
His mouth tightened. ‘It’s nothing. Just a hole.’ And one he’d wanted Patrick to mend for the past nine years.
‘Why is it there?’
‘Because my damned older brother thinks it’s funny.’
She turned to face him, her face curious. He didn’t want to explain it to her, but she asked anyway. ‘What happened?’
When he didn’t answer, a smile perked at her lips. ‘It bothers you. Should I ask King Patrick about it?’
His brother would enjoy telling her, Ewan was certain. The entire tribe knew about it, and now the soldiers touched the hole for luck before going into battle. How that tradition had begun, he’d never know.
Expelling a sigh, he confessed, ‘Patrick was converting the old walls into stone. I was thirteen, I think. One of the stones fell out. Not enough mortar to hold it together, I suppose, but the rest of the structure stayed intact. Connor dared me to crawl through the hole.’
Honora’s lips twitched. By God, she’d better not laugh about this.
‘Did you make it through?’ Though she posed the question with complete seriousness, he sensed she was trying to hold back mirth.
‘I didn’t. My head and shoulders made it through, but I couldn’t get past my ribs.’
The humiliation was one he’d never lived down. He couldn’t forget how his brothers had laughed at him, while he’d struggled to free himself.
‘Were you stuck within the wall?’
He glared at her. Of course he’d been stuck. ‘One of the top stones slipped down on top of me. I nearly dislocated my shoulder trying to get out.’
‘What did your brothers do?’ Honora covered her mouth with a hand, colour rising in her cheeks.
‘What any older brothers would do…they left me there for the rest of the day. Laughed at me every time they passed. Connor set a crown of daisies on my head that I couldn’t get off because I couldn’t move my arms. Bastard.’
‘Who set you free?’
‘One of the kitchen maids took pity on me. But Patrick left the hole there in memory.’
She did start laughing then and put her arms around him. ‘Oh, Ewan. I wish I could have seen that.’
‘I’m glad you didn’t.’ He cut off her laughter the best way he knew how. With a kiss.
Honora kissed him back, letting herself fall into the embrace. Ewan slipped his hands inside the sleeves of her overdress, shaping her body, caressing the curve of her breasts.
She gasped against his mouth as Ewan continued his devastating onslaught. The softest flick of his thumb against her nipple sent an unexpected rush of wetness between her thighs. She caught herself before she moaned, but when his hands touched her bare ankle, sliding up her leg beneath her skirts, she couldn’t stop herself. The rough texture of his palm against her thighs made her shudder. Higher still, he stroked her legs, lingering against her flesh.
‘I want to be with you again.’
She was glad her burning cheeks were hidden by the shadows of the night sky. Though she wanted him desperately, she was even more afraid of sleeping in his arms. ‘I don’t know if that would be wise.’
‘Not here,’ he corrected, his lips gentle against her cheek. ‘I’ll take you to my hut. No one will bother us.’
She struggled to calm the breath rising and falling. Her head and her heart were at war, her sense of reason battering against her body’s desires. ‘Your tribesmen thought I was going to be your bride, didn’t they?’
Ewan’s hands framed her face as he leaned in. ‘Don’t worry about them. All that matters is what’s between us.’
‘You’re waging a battle I can’t win,’ she whispered. She touched her forehead to his. ‘Each time I lie in your arms, you’re breaking down my heart. And we both know I’ll be leaving Erin.’
Somehow, he had laid siege to her feelings, slowly tearing down the walls until she could hardly imagine a life without him. Even now, she wanted to embrace him, to breathe in his scent and know that he was hers.
‘You don’t have to make that choice,’ he said. ‘You can stay with me here.’
‘I can’t, Ewan,’ she said, holding him close. ‘One day, you’re going to wed an heiress. And I don’t want to be here when that happens.’
He held her close, not denying it. ‘Don’t think about the future, Honora. Just be with me now.’
She let him hold her, afraid that these moments with him would never last.
* * *
Later that night, Ewan took her back to the chamber Isabel had set aside. It seemed best to let her sleep alone after the long journey. Though he longed to comfort Honora, to sleep with her body beside his, her warning had resonated with him.
She was right. The more time they spent together, the worse the risk of hurting her. She still believed he was going to wed an heiress, though he’d given up that idea.
He didn’t want to face a future without her, but there seemed to be no alternative. Honora would never let go of her vow to Ceredys. She would put her life in danger, and there was nothing he could do to stop her.
Not unless he went with her.
The thought of her lifting a sword against John, or worse, watching her be struck down, was unthinkable.
The morning sun pierced through the doorway, and Ewan walked outside. He took care of the animals first, then took a hard look at his property.
His circular hut was constructed of limestone and thatch, with a packed earthen floor. Half-a-dozen cattle gorged themselves on the dried corn he’d stored over the winter, protected by a low stone wall.
It wasn’t enough. Even if he sold off each of the cows, he’d still need more coins to buy land and to build a larger home.
A small section of the stone wall had begun to crumble, so Ewan busied himself correcting the fallen stones. His muscles tightened as he hefted a stone, placing it atop the pile. He worked over the course of an hour, sweating as he finished the wall. The work made it easier to think, to make his plans.
The Midsummer’s Eve festivities were approaching. During the aenach, visitors would come from the neighbouring tribes to intermarry and to compete in the contests of strength and skill. Often there were prizes for the winners, sometimes a silver cup or a horse. It might be, he could win the contests and use the coins to help Honora.
He glanced back at his meagre hut. Honora deserved better than this. She deserved a fine estate, with an army at her command to cast out John of Ceredys.
And he wished he could be the one to give it to her.
* * *
‘There he is.’ Liam MacEgan pointed to Ewan, who was repairing a stone wall. Honora sent a silent prayer of thanksgiving that the boy spoke her language, else she’d never have found Ewan’s dwelling.
Honora thanked Liam, and he waited, a slight smile on his face. ‘Was there something you wanted?’
He shifted his weight from foot to foot. ‘My uncle sometimes gives me a sweet or a honey cake when I’m helpful.’
Another shrewd smile.
‘If I had one to give you, I certainly would,’ Honora apologised. ‘But perhaps Ewan has something.’
At the sound of their voices, Ewan looked up. Liam scampered into his arms, chattering in Irish at a speed she couldn’t comprehend.
Even as Ewan found a treat for his nephew, she didn’t miss his look of discomfort, as though he were ashamed of his home.
There was no reason for it. The small stone hut had fresh thatching, and the walls were sturdy. It reminded her of the roundhouses she’d seen, not far from her homeland. The welcoming aroma of peat smoke surrounded the space, and the lowing of cattle broke the stillness. Behind the hut was a small garden, with rows of onions and peas already planted.
Honora didn’t wait for an invitation, but ducked inside while Ewan was talking to Liam. The interior was cool and dark, the earthen floor immaculate. A small sleeping pallet lay in one corner, while a fire glowed in the centre. A shelf contained cooking pots and dishes made of fired clay.
There were no decorations of any kind, and Honora doubted if he’d had time or the inclination. It needed a little more care to make it into a home. She sat down on the bench beside the table, and it wasn’t long before Ewan entered.
‘This is where you live?’ she asked.
He gave a brusque nod. ‘For now. One day I hope to leave it behind.’
She crossed the small space, standing before him. ‘Why? There’s nothing wrong with your home.’ Truth to tell, she preferred it to the vast castle, for no one would criticise her here, nor note her sorrowful lack of skills.
‘Save your pity. I know what this place is. But it won’t be this way always.’
Did he believe she was lying to him? It wasn’t pity, not at all. ‘Why would you say that?’
‘I want to provide more for my family and the woman I’ll wed one day.’ He stared at the beams of the house, not looking at her while he spoke.
Jealousy slashed through her common sense at the mention of a wife. She found herself blurting out, ‘Have you picked her out already?’
His eyes flared with sudden desire. ‘I have one in mind.’
Before she could speak another word, he trapped her against the bench and table, gripping her head while he kissed her. It felt like years since he’d touched her, and desire rippled through her instantly. His hands moved fast, tearing through each layer of clothing while she fought to free him from his tunic and trews.
A savage need poured over her like water, racing through her veins in the need to join with this man. She kissed his chest, running her hands over his shoulders and arms. ‘I want you inside me.’
‘You’re going to have to wait, then. For I’ve not finished touching you.’
After her clothes lay upon the ground, Ewan laid her back on the table, her spine pressed against the wood. He fastened his mouth upon her nipple, using his teeth and tongue to drive her into a deeper need. He wrapped her legs around his waist, his hard shaft pressed against her wet centre. ‘I’m not letting you return to Ceredys, Honora. I won’t risk your safety with John.’
He squeezed her bottom, forcing his length to ride against her cleft. Easing the tip of himself inside, she tried to sheathe him, but he wouldn’t allow it.
‘It’s my choice to make,’ she breathed, hissing when his mouth moved down to her navel. He lowered himself until he was kneeling on the ground, her legs wide open before him.
‘Not any more,’ he growled against her sensitive flesh. With his tongue, he tasted her intimately. He stroked a rhythm upon her flesh, the building pressure rising high inside her.
‘I made a vow to the people,’ she gritted out, gasping when he stood, lifting her hips to his.
‘And I’m making a vow to you. You’re going to stay here. I’ll go in your place and free them, if it means that much to you.’
‘It’s my battle. Not yours.’
‘Argue you all you want, a ghrá. But I’ll let no man harm you.’
He plunged his erection inside her, and she shattered, the white-hot pleasure making her climax. Ewan lifted her ankles to rest upon his shoulders while he invaded and withdrew. She felt every inch of him penetrating, and each stroke brought her closer to another fulfillment.
She didn’t like his supercilious declaration. ‘I won’t be pushed aside again, Ewan. I’ll face my own enemies.’
He withdrew his thick length, gently turning her over until her elbows rested on the table, her knees spread wide on the bench. ‘Not John.’
A moment later, he filled her from behind, driving himself so deeply, Honora found it impossible to think clearly. Her body was shaking violently as he brought her to the edge of madness and sent her flying across. She half-screamed when he impaled her, over and over. He grew even harder as he pumped inside, roaring as he reached his own climax.
Honora slumped over the table, unable to move. Ewan rested his face upon her back, still within her. ‘When I return,’ he breathed, kissing her skin, ‘I’ll hire my sword out until I’ve made enough silver to give you your own estate.’
Did he think he had to buy her affections? Was he expecting her to wait for a year or longer, until he felt he had enough wealth?
‘I don’t need an estate. It means nothing to me.’ Especially if Ewan wasn’t there. Couldn’t he see that he would chain himself to a life of wandering? He would become a mercenary, a man whom she would hardly ever see.
‘It means everything to me.’
His words left her cold. This wasn’t about wanting to provide a good place for her to live. It was about besting others, lifting himself up to the wealth of his brothers. He hadn’t heard a word she’d said.
Why? Why was he behaving like this, as though she needed more to be happy? But then, he’d said it himself, hadn’t he? He was the one who wanted an estate, not her.
After a time, he withdrew and cleaned himself, donning his clothes again. Honora struggled with the léine and overdress, and Ewan helped her with the laces.
‘You should return to Laochre,’ he said, kissing her cheek. ‘I am staying here tonight, to take care of some things. I’ll see you on the morrow.’
Just like that, he dismissed her. Not a word about whether he wanted to marry her, whether he wanted her to live with him—nothing. Only a promise that he intended to go to Ceredys and leave her behind. To do what? Spin wool? Sweep the floors?
Honora strode away from his dwelling without a farewell. Right now she wanted to work off her irritation. She crossed his land, minding her step through the cow pasture. Hot tears swelled up in her eyes, for Ewan’s ambitions were blinding him to the truth.
She didn’t want a kingdom. The fear of failure haunted her, knowing that she’d let the people of Ceredys down. She didn’t want to be responsible for dozens of families, and whether they had enough food to last through the winter.
But Ewan did.
A heaviness rose up in her throat. She’d never known how important this was to him. She couldn’t give him the kingdom he wanted; her dower lands were controlled by John. But neither did she want Ewan to waste years of his life in search of gold he might never have.
No matter what he’d promised, she refused to stay behind in Erin while he went to fight her battles.
This was about more than vengeance or redemption. It was about proving to herself that she could fight her greatest enemy and win. That she could swallow her fears and become a true warrior.
She shielded her eyes from the morning sun, staring out at Laochre. The stronghold was filled with countless soldiers, Irishmen who walked with the quiet confidence of fighters.
And not a single one of them knew her secret. She’d hidden herself for so long, denying her abilities. Was it any wonder that Ewan could not see her as an equal, when she hid behind the shadows of her father’s disapproval?
She stood, taking a deep breath. It was time to change that.