‘To the old abbey. The ruins are romantic, don’t you think?’
‘I think they’ll crumble and bury you alive if you get too close.’
Her sister rolled her eyes. ‘I should have known better than to ask you.’
‘Well, it’s true. Go there, if you want, but don’t let him kiss you.’
‘And why not? He looks like a man who knows how to kiss.’
He certainly does, Honora thought, but it wasn’t a good idea to say so.
‘You’re so young, Katherine.’
‘I am nineteen years old. Many women wed at the age of thirteen.’
‘And thank the Blessed Virgin you weren’t one of them.’
Katherine sat down upon the bed, her hands folded across one knee. ‘I never asked you…what it was like between a man and a woman. But, Honora, I want to know. You were married. What’s it like when a man touches you?’
Oh, Jesu. Her cheeks flamed. How was she supposed to answer that? Honora knew nothing of the way it was meant to be. Ranulf had been unspeakably cruel, and it had been her fault. If she’d kept her fighting skills hidden from him, he’d never have been the wiser. A good wife was not expected to fight off her husband on their wedding night. Nor was she supposed to wound and defeat him.
Ranulf had not forgiven her for it, and he’d thrown her dagger into the fire, forbidding her to ever touch a weapon again. He’d ordered his men to hold her down and beat her for disobedience.
And later, when she’d lain upon their bed, bruised and bleeding, he’d taken her innocence. Honora had wept, wishing to God she were dead. But he’d enjoyed humiliating her.
‘I don’t know what to say.’ Honora stared down at the floor. Never could she admit the truth to her sister. ‘I can only hope that your marriage is better than mine was.’
Katherine’s smile vanished. ‘I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have brought it up.’
A sour knot formed in her stomach. ‘Perhaps things will be different for you. I hope so.’ She helped Katherine adjust her veil, then stepped back to look at her. Her sister wore a deep violet bliaud made of wool and embroidered with silver thread. Close-fitting, the horizontal tucks emphasised her small waist and slender arms. Her sleeves draped down to the floor while a corded girdle hung at the top of her hips.
Honora rubbed her own arms, the tight muscles not at all delicate and soft like her sister’s.
‘I’ll be back by sundown,’ Katherine promised. ‘If Father asks—’
‘I’ll say you’re not feeling well, and you’re keeping to your chamber.’ Honora reached out to her sister. ‘I’ll ask the servants to prepare a basket of food, for Ewan likes to eat. And do not be late, or I will come after you.’
Katherine’s smile returned. ‘Thank you, Honora.’ She hugged her and fairly flew from the room.
Honora stared at the wooden door for so long, her eyesight blurred. Her sister was going to be alone with Ewan MacEgan. He was going to court her, using every tactic he had to win her heart. He needed Katherine’s land in Erin, the dowry that would help him establish a foothold. Like any strategist, he would use his strengths to his advantage.
Damn, damn, damn. Worry needled her protective nature, eating away at her stomach. It wasn’t jealousy. No, that had nothing to do with it.
Should she follow them and remain in hiding, in case Katherine needed her? Neither of them needed to know she was there.
Her conscience told her that this was not at all a good idea. Katherine deserved privacy, not her older sister spying on her as though she were a child.
But therein lay the truth. They were sisters. And Honora would allow no one to hurt Katherine. Not even a man she trusted.
She changed her gown into a brown wool bliaud that would help her blend into the trees near the abbey ruins. In order to arrive before them, she would have to leave immediately.
Honora hid her hair with a veil, but she planned to remove it as soon as she arrived. The scrap of white fabric would easily give her position away. At her waist, she felt for the dagger, ensuring that it was still there.
Finally, she left the chamber. Within a quarter of an hour, she was on her way to the ruined abbey.
Ewan helped Katherine dismount, tethering her mare to a nearby tree. She looked as lovely as a rose, her pale skin contrasting against the rich purple of her gown. He let his hands linger upon her waist, waiting to feel the same rush of need he’d felt with Honora.
But there was nothing.
He pushed aside the sense of restlessness. It would take time to know Katherine, and he was certain he would feel something towards her, eventually.
‘I am glad you asked me to ride with you today,’ Katherine said, smiling. Her cheeks had a light flush to them, as though she were nervous about being near him.
‘We’ve never spent time alone, have we?’ Ewan took her hand and led her towards the ruined abbey. As a sixteen-year-old lad, he’d sometimes visited this spot, so near to the Earl of Longford’s lands. He’d practised his fighting skills here, imagining that the abbey was his own castle.
Honora had been his opponent, more often than not. They had spent hours together, battling with swords. And though she’d driven him half-mad, following him everywhere, she’d also provoked him into becoming a better fighter, a better man. Because of her taunts, he’d spent weeks lifting heavy stones, building up his strength until he could best any man at wrestling or hand-fighting.
Why was he thinking of her so often? It made little sense, for they were barely friends. And yet, never had he felt such mind-stealing lust, the need to be with a woman. Kissing Honora had been a mistake, one he wouldn’t repeat.
Katherine sat down upon the grass, spreading her skirts out. It was an invitation to sit beside her, and yet Ewan felt uneasy about it. Like a predator invited to dine upon succulent lamb.
‘It’s a nice day,’ she offered.
‘It is, yes.’
Damn it all, was he still sixteen? He’d never had this much difficulty talking to women before. Quite the opposite.
‘Would you like some food?’ Katherine suggested. ‘Honora reminded me to pack some provisions.’
She was about to stand, but Ewan took her hand. ‘No. Not yet.’
He needed to know if a spark could be kindled between them. Surely kissing one woman was the same as any other. The need to know, to see if he could expel Honora from his mind, made him cast aside courtesy. He reached out and caught Katherine by the nape.
Her eyes widened, her lips parting with surprise. Without asking, Ewan leaned in and kissed her. He put everything into the kiss, hoping to coax the same desire he’d felt with Honora.
But there was nothing. He felt like an older brother, kissing a woman who didn’t want to be kissed. Breaking away from her, he saw her cheeks flush. She touched her hand to her lips, then flushed. ‘I was hoping you would do that.’
And he, in turn, wished he hadn’t. Somehow, he mustered a smile he didn’t feel.
A loud rustling noise caught his attention. There, in the grove of trees near the ruins, he saw a branch moving. No wind was present, and he moved his hand to his sword.
‘Stay here. There’s someone in the trees.’ He pressed her back towards the ruins. ‘Climb up until I come for you.’
Katherine obeyed, and Ewan saw the branches move again. He darted forward, running in the direction of the sound. His weapon drawn, he rushed to find out exactly who was hidden in the underbrush.
When he cleared the trees, he saw Honora gripping a dagger, her gaze furious.
Ewan groaned. ‘Now why am I not surprised to see you?’
She shot him a withering look. ‘I was looking after my sister, to ensure that you didn’t try to ravish her.’
He reached for her wrist to keep the knife at bay. ‘You should know me better than that, Honora.’
‘You seem to have a habit of kissing women. First me, and now her. I say you aren’t trustworthy.’
The edge in her voice caught
him by surprise. Was she jealous? He’d never imagined it was possible, but there was no doubt Honora was upset about his courtship.
Ewan turned her wrist, forcing her to drop the blade. ‘I doubt if your sister would appreciate your efforts.’
At that, she looked down at the ground. ‘I’m not sorry for it. If it were any of the other suitors, I’d have done the same.’
Likely that was true. ‘Now that you’re here, you may as well join us.’ He started to pull her towards the clearing.
‘No!’ Honora tried to break free of his grasp, her voice panicked. ‘Do not tell her of this.’
Ewan ignored her, lifting her up and over his shoulder. The incongruous position was meant to shame her for her spying, and he ignored her pleas to let her go.
He would, of course. As soon as he revealed the spying to her sister.
‘I’ve found our intruder,’ he called out to Katherine. The maiden was perched atop one of the taller stones, and as he’d expected, fury darkened her face. When he reached the abbey ruins, he set Honora down.
‘What are you doing here?’ Katherine demanded, climbing over the ruins until she stood before her sister.
Honora’s face turned crimson. ‘Just—ensuring that you were all right. You’ve—you’ve been gone awhile.’
‘I’ve been gone for only a few minutes.’
Ewan stepped back, beginning to enjoy himself. He’d never had any sisters, and at the moment Katherine looked ready to tear Honora’s eyes out.
‘You were spying on us.’
‘I was protecting you.’
‘I say spying.’ Curling her hand into a fist, Katherine punched her sister on the shoulder. ‘Go back and find your own suitor. This one isn’t yours.’
In spite of himself, Ewan couldn’t stop his smile. He’d never had women fighting over him. It was an experience he rather enjoyed. Settling back beside the basket, he opened it and chose a piece of mutton, preparing to watch the war unfold.
Honora dodged another blow. ‘I’ve already told you, I don’t want to wed again. If you’d open your eyes, you’d see that I’m only going along with what Father wants. For you, so that you can marry a man of your choosing.’
Katherine pulled back to deliver another punch, but Honora caught her hand. ‘Enough. We’ll go home, and put this behind us.’
‘Did you think you would take him away from me?’ Katherine reached out and tripped her sister, rolling Honora onto the grass.
Ewan took another bite, resting his arm upon a knee. A pity Bevan couldn’t see this. Or his other brothers. He’d never been so entertained.
Honora fought hard, and used her full strength to pin Katherine to the ground. Her sister struggled, but could do nothing to free herself.
‘I’m going to let go of you now. Don’t try to fight me again, or I’ll only embarrass you more. Do you think Ewan wants to see you behaving in such a manner?’
Actually, yes, but he couldn’t say that.
Katherine let out a foul curse, but stopped struggling. Honora released her, and she sat up, rubbing her wrists.
‘Ewan, I am sorry for this,’ Honora apologised. ‘Please bring my sister home.’ With a dark look, she added, ‘And if you aren’t back within an hour, I will hunt both of you down.’ With that, she started walking back to the forest.
It occurred to Ewan that she’d come without an escort. Not wise at all, given the animosity she felt toward John of Ceredys.
He was about to suggest that they all return together, but the ire upon Katherine’s face made it clear that she would not welcome such an idea. Her face was smeared with dirt, her hair coming loose from her veil. She looked ready to murder her sister.
‘You’ve quite a fist, for such a lady,’ Ewan ventured.
Katherine let out a huff, wiping at the dirt upon her gown. ‘There is more to me than you might think.’
So it seemed.
Chapter Eight
Honora went to her old trunk in the corner of the room. She’d left it behind when she’d married Ranulf, believing she’d never need it.
But now, she wanted a few hours to escape her worries. The morning had gone badly, and she deeply regretted what she’d done. She had only intended to protect Katherine, to ensure her safety.
But when she’d seen Ewan kissing her sister, something inside had snapped. She’d deliberately rustled the trees, wanting him to keep his hands off of Katherine. And it had worked.
She was a terrible sister for feeling this way. There was nothing wrong with MacEgan. Certainly, Ewan would make Katherine a good husband, even if his fortunes were less than other men.
Honora sat down upon the floor, resting her hands on the wooden surface of the trunk. Once, she had been as carefree as her sister, believing that her wedding would be a moment of joy. She’d been so hopeful, believing that Ranulf was a man as kindly as her father. But she’d been wrong.
A heavy sigh escaped her. She couldn’t ruin her sister’s happiness. No doubt if Katherine wed Ewan, her union would be different. Ewan was a steady man and would take care of her younger sister.
Why, then, was she feeling so morose? She didn’t want Ewan for herself. She wasn’t the sort of woman who could make any man a good wife. Ranulf had made that clear.
And now, it seemed she wasn’t a good sister either. Katherine was right to despise her for spying. For that was what she’d done, no matter what her intentions had been.
She needed a distraction, a means of distancing herself from her problems and letting out her frustration. Her hands were positively itching for another sword fight.
But when she opened her trunk, her clothing was no longer in neat folded piles. Instead, bliauds and shifts were tangled up with veils, and it was clear someone had searched the chest. For what purpose? She didn’t like the idea of anyone going through her belongings, whether friend or enemy.
She doubted if her sister had touched it, for Katherine had more gowns than most women would ever need. There was nothing of value within it, except…
Her throat nearly closed up as she reached to unlatch the false bottom. Still there. Thank the Blessed Virgin. Honora sighed with relief as she lifted up the suit of heavy chainmail armour, along with a pair of men’s chausses, braies and a tunic.
Though she loathed the armour, it was necessary for concealing her identity. She could move among her father’s soldiers, and none would be the wiser. She’d stolen it from a dead soldier, after a Welsh lord had tried to conquer their lands a few years ago.
She set the armour aside and busied herself, folding up the rest of the gowns. More than ever, she sensed that someone was watching her. Possibly John or one of the other suitors.
She removed her gown, stripping down and replacing it with the men’s clothing. She lifted the chainmail shirt over the tunic. The byrnie hung down over her torso, straining her shoulders under the weight. The skullcap and coif hid her shorn hair, and it made her neck ache just to wear it. Last, she donned a conical helm. She wore no further armour, unable to tolerate the heaviness.
Only for a short time, she promised herself. Then she would return and no one would know.
Right now, she needed to test the weight of a sword, to feel the rush of blood pumping through her veins. And though she could wear the armour for only an hour at best, it would help her to forget about this disastrous afternoon.
Katherine would confront her about Ewan, and she still didn’t know how to respond. She doubted if an apology would mean anything to her sister.
Honora struggled to walk at first, regaining her balance. But as she exited her bedchamber, her muscles remembered the feel of the weight, the sensation of cold metal links against her cheeks and hair. With each step forward, she felt herself regaining a sense of power.
No one questioned her when she slipped inside the armoury. Nor did anyone notice when she emerged, a lightweight sword strapped to her waist. She’d forgone any gloves, preferring a stronger grip by fighting bare-handed. The gaun
tlets were too large for her hands, anyhow.
Honora stepped outside, striding through the bailey towards the practice grounds. The men had already begun sparring, and she had to stop herself from smiling at the familiar sound of steel clashing. Several of Katherine’s suitors were training alongside her father’s men.
‘Looking for a match?’ a familiar voice asked. She spun and saw John of Ceredys. At the sight of him, her skin grew cold, her palms sweaty.
Fear convulsed in her stomach, making her take an involuntary step backwards. A coldness built up within her, a need to avenge the women he’d defiled. And without thinking of the true consequences, she heard herself saying, ‘I accept your challenge.’
After he returned Katherine safely to the donjon, Ewan found his brother Bevan inside their shared chamber. ‘How was your visit with Longford?’
Bevan grimaced. ‘The Earl is a good enough sort. He enjoyed the poteen I brought him. But Genevieve’s mother—’ He shook his head.
‘Took your head off for leaving Genevieve behind, did she?’
‘I wasn’t about to drag her across the sea when she’s going to give birth soon, now was I?’ Bevan rubbed his ear, as though Lady Longford had boxed it. ‘But Helen thought I should have brought some of the children. She misses them.’
‘You could have, you know. I’m certain Duncan would have thought it a wonderful adventure.’ Ewan had a fondness for Bevan’s eldest son. The lad was only seven years of age, but he reminded Ewan of himself as a child.
‘If I’d brought him, Lady Longford would have fed him sweets from dawn until dusk.’
‘I see nothing wrong with that.’ Ewan stretched, even as his brother glowered.
‘Wait until you have children of your own, and you’ll think differently.’ Bevan shook his head. ‘And by the way, how is it with Lady Katherine? Have you settled on a betrothal?’
‘I believe I’ve gained her favour. No thanks to her sister.’ He explained Honora’s antics from that morning. She’d claimed she was only ensuring that her sister was protected. But it reminded him of how she’d followed him, years ago. Always there, always hanging on to him when he didn’t want her there.
Taming Her Irish Warrior Page 9