Taming Her Irish Warrior Page 11

  ‘I deserved this.’ Honora touched her cheek, where Katherine had struck her earlier. The flesh was tender and would bruise later, she knew.

  Katherine looked uncomfortable at the reminder. ‘No. I shouldn’t have struck you.’

  You would do more than strike me, if you knew what I’ve done, Honora thought. But she shook her head. ‘I deserved it.’

  Loosening the ties of the tunic, she lifted it over her head and started to put on the gown.

  When she saw the red welt across her chest, Katherine stopped her. ‘What happened to you? I didn’t do that, did I?’

  ‘No. It was my own clumsiness.’ Another lie, added to those she’d already told. But thankfully, Katherine did not ask further questions.

  Instead, her sister offered, ‘Do you want me to tend it? I’m not as good as you at healing, but it must pain you.’

  Honora’s throat grew dry. The peace offering was so undeserved, she hardly knew what to say. ‘I’ll tend it later, after I’ve bathed.’

  Katherine helped her arrange the bliaud, strangely quiet. ‘I know about the armour,’ she said suddenly. ‘And your fighting.’

  Honora froze, and an argument sprang to her lips.

  ‘Don’t deny it.’ Katherine lifted a hand, shaking her head. ‘I’ve known about it for years.’

  It was the last thing she’d expected Katherine to say.

  ‘When did you find out?’

  ‘When you came back from Longford.’ Her sister sat down upon the bed, her hands folded in her lap. ‘Though I don’t understand your desire to fight, I won’t tell Father.’

  ‘I don’t understand it myself sometimes,’ Honora admitted. It was true. When she donned the armour, it weighed down upon her, the burden of both the chainmail and the forbidden need to fight.

  ‘I used to think—it was our brother’s spirit,’ Honora continued. ‘It’s as though a part of him lives on in me. Is it foolish, wanting to fight as he would have?’

  ‘It is.’ Katherine folded her hands in her lap. ‘I fear for you, Honora. You could be killed if you don’t cease this. You haven’t the strength of the other men.’

  Normally, she would have argued with her sister, for she had won numerous matches. But both she and Ewan were right. Today had been different, for she’d allowed her concentration to slip. Her fear of John had dominated the fight.

  Katherine’s arms slipped around her in an embrace. Honora hugged her back. ‘I didn’t mean to worry you.’

  ‘Just stop,’ Katherine pleaded. ‘You have nothing more to prove.’

  Only to myself, Honora thought, but did not say it. When they broke apart, Katherine passed her a veil to hide her hair. Honora donned it while her sister adjusted her own appearance, studying herself in a mirror of polished steel.

  ‘I think I’m going to wed Ewan,’ Katherine confessed.

  Honora squeezed the pommel of her knife so tightly, she wondered it didn’t break off. ‘Really?’ Anger thrust through her mind, coupled with a touch of fear.

  Katherine spun around, hugging her waist. Her cheeks burned with hope. ‘I—I think I could learn to love him, Honora. He is the right choice for me. I’m going to speak to Father tonight.’

  Honora tried to manage a smile, but could not. Hurt caught up in her throat, but she quelled it. ‘Are you certain?’ The words tumbled out of her mouth, as though she were trying to change Katherine’s mind. ‘There are other men who might suit you better.’

  ‘None so handsome as him.’ Katherine adjusted her hair, tucking the long braid behind her veil.

  Honora ceased her arguments, for what was the point? Ewan deserved a wife like Katherine. Gentle and industrious, her sister would make him happy.

  She wouldn’t allow this cold feeling to spread and grow within her. She had no claim upon Ewan, even if his kiss still tingled upon her mouth.

  What she had done to Katherine was wrong. Unforgivably so. The guilt made it hard to face her sister, and she despised herself.

  ‘I wish you well with him.’ Honora squeezed her sister’s hand, praying Katherine would never learn of the betrayal.

  ‘What about you?’ Katherine asked. ‘Is there a man whom you wish to wed? Sir Ademar, perhaps?’

  There was a curious flush to Katherine’s face, but Honora reassured her, ‘Don’t trouble yourself on my account.’ She had no intention of marrying anyone. ‘I’ll see to it that you get the man you want.’

  She crossed the room to stare outside the window. This awful feeling inside was guilt, nothing more. Ewan was her friend, and they had agreed not to let anything happen again. She trusted him to keep that vow.

  There was no other choice.

  John St Leger sat across from Nicholas of Ardennes. Although they held an equal rank and now a kinship tie through Honora, the younger Baron envied Nicholas. The fine castle, with nearly all the wood converted into stone, was far superior to his own inheritance.

  He wanted more. He coveted the gleaming gold, the comfortable scents of good food and ale. The castle left to him by his father was debt-ridden, a crumbling fortress with not nearly enough funds to let him live in the style he wished.

  He blamed the women. His grandmother, Marie St Leger, had known where the family’s treasure was hidden. Jewels and gold, spoils from a Norse raid, had kept the estate in fine form while his grandfather was alive. There was supposed to be more, but only Marie knew where it was hidden.

  And now she was dead, damn her. He’d done everything to get the information out of her, but even with her dying breath, the bitch had refused to tell him.

  Now Marie’s ruby had gone missing. It rightfully belonged to him, along with the rest of the treasure. He suspected Honora had stolen the gemstone, and it was possible Marie had given her the secrets of the treasure. He’d seen them together too often.

  He’d never met any woman like Honora. Powerful, bold and defiant. His groin ached, just thinking of her. Even when she’d threatened him with her knife, he could not deny the way she aroused him. She should have married him, not his father. Ranulf had stolen her, against his wishes.

  He had every intention of getting her back. Not as a bride, but as a lover perhaps. He wanted to taste that fine skin, to subdue her flesh beneath his. He wanted her to fight him, for he’d enjoy punishing her. And then, when he’d broken her, he would force her to confess the location of the ruby and the treasure.

  But first, he had to bring her back to Ceredys. And that meant gaining the support of her father.

  ‘Lady Honora has been gone for some time,’ John began, sipping his ale as though it were a casual matter. ‘Has she been well?’

  Nicholas shrugged. ‘Well enough, I suppose. Though she’s neglecting her responsibilities at Ceredys.’

  And the little thief had taken what belonged to him. But John took pains to keep his expression calm. ‘I’ve come to ask her to return. The people miss their lady.’

  ‘She will, soon enough.’ Nicholas steepled his hands upon the wooden table. His gaze was dark, and John wondered what Honora had revealed about her sudden departure.

  ‘I understand you are pressuring Honora to remarry,’ John began.

  ‘Suggesting, yes.’ Lord Ardennes looked displeased. ‘She has no children and was widowed at a young age.’

  ‘Most would not wish her to remarry. It would be a sin for a man to succumb to the temptation of a widow. The Church does not condone it.’

  ‘The Church can be convinced of anything, so long as their coffers are kept full.’ Lord Ardennes frowned. ‘I believe it would be in Honora’s best interests. Sir Ademar has already offered for her.’ The Baron refilled his own goblet, but did not grant John the same courtesy.

  John pretended not to notice the slight, but it was an invisible slice upon his pride. The quality of the drink far surpassed the ale at Ceredys, and he blamed Honora for it. Was it not her responsibility to oversee the brewers?

  His frustration mounted higher. She needed to return, to assume her r
esponsibilities and see to it that the estate was put to rights. For several months, she had shirked the needs of Ceredys. It would stop. She could no longer avoid her role as Lady, and if that meant convincing Lord Ardennes that he would deny any marriage offers, so be it.

  ‘We both want what is best for Lady Honora,’ John admitted. He had to tread carefully, for Lord Ardennes would not take well to threats. ‘And though Sir Ademar may have offered, we must decide whether or not the match would be in her best interests.’

  Ardennes reached out for a fig, drenched in honey. John had never tasted such a delicacy, but he’d not lower himself to ask the Baron for such favours.

  ‘True.’ Honora’s father ate the fig, licking his fingertips. ‘I almost considered Ewan MacEgan for her. There seemed to be an interest, but she denied it. He has voiced his interest in Katherine instead.’

  ‘The Irishman has virtually no property. I am surprised you would consider him at all.’

  ‘I had a conversation with his older brother, Bevan MacEgan, not long ago,’ Ardennes remarked. ‘It seems that the King of Laochre has offered a gift on Ewan’s behalf, a bridal price for whichever daughter he chooses.’

  John hid his displeasure, feigning interest. ‘Gold?’

  ‘Horses.’ Ardennes beamed. ‘Brought over from the Holy Land, I understand. Finest animals one could hope for.’

  He hadn’t known about the Baron’s weakness for horseflesh, but it was the clear the man was positively gloating over the prospect.

  John set his empty goblet aside. ‘Let MacEgan wed your younger daughter. Honora is needed at Ceredys. Since I have no wife, her presence is sorely missed.’

  Ardennes rubbed his chin. ‘I will suggest it to her once more. But Honora has said to me that she has no wish to return.’ His gaze sharpened, and John didn’t care for the sudden threat he sensed.

  ‘My daughter is not, nor has ever been, the cowardly sort,’ the Baron remarked. ‘Why would she flee your protection?’

  The pointed question held a note of warning, but John would not give Lord Ardennes any cause for concern. With a light smile of apology, he said, ‘There was a man who held an unwanted interest in Honora. One of my retainers. Once I discovered it, I had the man sent away. She can return without fear of him.’

  Ardennes relaxed his shoulders, believing the tale he’d spun. ‘Good. I am glad you’ve corrected the matter. I would hate to think that you’d allowed anything to happen to my daughter within the safety of her own home.’

  John veiled his irritation, but at least Honora had not told her father the true reason for her departure. Her silence made it easier to bring her back again.

  ‘Where is the Lady Honora?’ he asked with a smile. ‘I have not had the opportunity to speak with her at length. She must be wanting to hear the news from Ceredys.’

  ‘She is outside in the gardens, I am told.’ The Baron waved his hand in dismissal. ‘You may go and seek her out, if it pleases you.’

  ‘I shall.’ John gave a curt nod, itching to see Honora. He would bring her back to Ceredys, where he could look upon her face each morn, watching her move about her tasks.

  As he walked towards the gardens, he thought of exactly what he would say to her.

  Honora knelt down beside a bed of herbs, her fingers wrenching out a weed. If only she could tear out her guilt as easily. The entire morning, Katherine had been chattering about Ewan this and Ewan that. Finally, Honora had made her excuses, needing any form of escape.

  She rubbed at her shoulders, for her arms ached after the fight from yesterday. The raw sore above her breasts was a blatant reminder of her failure.

  She wasn’t ready to fight John—that much was clear. But she could learn.

  Thinking back on her mistakes, she realised that she’d expected him to fight fairly. John had seized every advantage, using her weaknesses against her. In that moment, she had become his victim, unable to defend herself.

  It wouldn’t happen again. If she were to fight against him in combat again, she would win. Even if it meant taking his life.

  She sobered at the thought, for she’d never killed anyone. And yet, it was what warriors did when necessary. They protected their people at all costs.

  Warriors did not cower at the idea of killing an enemy. And that was what John was. An enemy who was hurting innocent people. As Lady of Ceredys, it fell to her to guard them.

  Honora was so caught up in the idea, she didn’t notice Ewan’s approach until his shadow fell over her. Her pulse quickened at the sight of him. His face was haggard, as though he hadn’t slept well. She supposed he mirrored her own discontent.

  ‘I came to apologise for what I did yesterday.’ In his hand, he carried a grey-and-white-striped kitten. The tiny feline let out a tiny mew, and Ewan passed it to her. ‘And I thought you might want to give this lad a home, since your sister cannot care for him.’

  Honora reached out to touch the silky fur, and the kitten mewed again, arching its head against her hand. Her heart softened at the sight of the creature.

  ‘I accept your apology. It was my fault as much as yours,’ she admitted.

  He didn’t meet her gaze, but his shoulders relaxed slightly. He sat back, his wrist resting upon his raised knee. Neither spoke, and Honora played with the kitten, not wanting to risk the tentative truce.

  The animal began climbing up her bliaud, sinking its baby claws into the blue fabric of her gown. Honora lifted it into her hands and finally asked the question she feared most. ‘Have you spoken to my sister?’

  ‘No. I’ve not seen her since our visit to the ruins.’

  Ewan grew solemn, his eyes turning troubled. ‘But I am going to wed her.’

  Honora ran her fingers over the garden dirt, pretending his words didn’t matter. They shouldn’t, not at all. She knew Ewan needed Katherine’s dowry lands in Ireland. His decision was a practical one, and he would be kind to her sister.

  ‘It will be a good match,’ she managed, though her throat seemed swollen with so many other things she wanted to say. ‘I hope you both find happiness together.’

  He stared at her, his eyes seeing past her shield. ‘You’re lying to me.’

  ‘And what if I am?’ Honora shot back. ‘Does it matter? My sister has everything you want. She has the land, the beauty, and she will have no difficulty caring for the estates.’

  Unlike me. Irrational, unreasonable tears were filling up her eyes, and Honora wrenched another weed out of the soil, trying to force her anger onto the plant.

  Their mother had died when she was just a girl, and there had been no one to show her how to manage. In time, Katherine had taken command of the household with the help of the seneschal. Her sister had taught her a little about the estates, but it wasn’t nearly enough.

  ‘Katherine doesn’t have everything I want,’ Ewan said quietly. ‘But it will have to be enough.’

  The words were not a comfort. Instead, they pierced her as surely as a blade through her heart. Honora dried her eyes on the sleeve of her gown. ‘Don’t say it.’

  ‘It was like kissing a little sister,’ he continued. ‘Nothing like what it was between us.’

  ‘Why are you telling me this?’ Was he trying to hurt her more? Ewan had been her friend for so long, she couldn’t let that ground shift from beneath her.

  ‘If circumstances were different—’

  ‘They aren’t.’ Honora knew better than to let herself believe he might have chosen her. ‘My lands are tied up with John’s. I can’t give you the land you need. And I couldn’t be the sort of wife you’d want.’

  ‘I don’t know what your husband did to you to make you believe that.’ He took her hand in his, the large palm covering her fingers. ‘You’re a desirable woman, Honora.’

  Now Ewan was the one who was lying. Ranulf had chastised her for being a cold wife, a woman incapable of giving him comfort. She’d been as useless in the marriage bed as she’d been in their home.

  No, marriage was a pr
ison, nothing more.

  Her hand closed over an oak seedling, and she yanked the wayward tree out of the herbal bed. ‘Go to my sister.’

  Ewan took her palm and raised it to his lips, in a gesture of farewell. The touch of his mouth on her skin sent a ripple of warmth through her body. ‘I don’t want to lose your friendship, Honora. In spite of what happened.’

  She didn’t answer, though she felt like weeping. Instead, she spent the next few minutes weeding the garden, letting her thoughts stray.

  Her father expected her to remarry. She would have to choose from among the remaining suitors, as soon as Katherine arranged the betrothal with Ewan.

  Right now, she wanted to flee Ardennes, to protect her fragile freedom. But she couldn’t, for if she did, Nicholas would not allow Katherine to wed Ewan. Her father was just stubborn enough to carry out his threat.

  Honora no longer knew what to do.

  Lord, please, no, she prayed. Her only hope was to plead with her father. There had to be a way to change his mind.

  When the last weed was gone, Honora rose to her feet and turned to leave. She nearly stumbled at the sight of John approaching.

  Fair-haired, with a burgundy tunic and dun chausses, he wore a silver chain to denote his rank.

  How many serfs had starved to give him that chain? she wondered. Anger bled through her veins, and she was tempted to draw her blade. But the thin smile upon John’s face made her question why he was here.

  ‘My lord.’ She greeted him with a stiff curtsy, while her hand rested upon the grip of her dagger. Bloodthirsty thoughts, of carving out his heart, raged through her mind.

  ‘Will you not offer me an embrace of welcome, Lady Honora? Or should I call you Mother?’

  She refused to let his taunt pass. ‘I am not your mother.’ Although they now had a kinship bond through marriage, she’d never acknowledge it.

  When Honora tried to walk past him, John blocked her way. A patronising smile spread over his face. ‘True. I have never thought of you as a mother. I thought of you as the bride I was supposed to have. He took you from me, you know.’

  She didn’t know what madness he was speaking about. ‘I was always betrothed to Ranulf.’