Taming Her Irish Warrior

by Michelle Willingham

  ‘But it was supposed to be me that you wed. My father promised, and then he broke his word.’

  And thank heaven for that. Her marriage to Ranulf had been a nightmare, but it would have been far worse had she married John.

  ‘Marie spoke of you before she died,’ he said.

  At the mention of his grandmother, Honora faltered. Marie had been the only ally she’d had at Ceredys, a steadfast friend. ‘What did she say?’

  He ignored the question. ‘You saw her often, didn’t you?’

  ‘She was kind to me.’

  ‘Then you must have seen the ruby she wore around her neck. And she must have told you about the Ceredys treasure.’

  It was then that she understood why he was here. He coveted Marie’s belongings. The glint in his eyes spoke of a man desperate.

  ‘I saw the ruby on a few occasions.’ She glared at him. ‘But she never spoke of the treasure.’

  ‘It belongs to me. But it’s gone, along with the ruby.’ He drew closer, his gaze menacing. ‘I think you took it when you left. And I think you know exactly where my inheritance lies.’

  His hand tried to slip towards her waist, but Honora unsheathed her knife. ‘I know nothing.’

  ‘I don’t believe you.’

  ‘Believe what you like. But if you touch me, I will cut off your fingers.’

  He laughed, raising his hands in mock surrender. ‘So abrasive. And do you treat all of your suitors in this way?’

  ‘I have no suitors.’

  ‘That isn’t what your father tells me.’ John circled around her, and Honora kept her grip firm on the knife.

  From the nonchalant expression on his face, he didn’t feel at all intimidated by her weapon. It deepened her anger, and she wanted to prove to him that she was a threat. Aye, she’d lost the sparring match, but it didn’t make her helpless.

  ‘Which man will you choose? Sir Ademar, perhaps?’ John continued circling, edging her closer to the herbal bed. Honora took a step backwards, her foot brushing against the prickly rosemary.

  Damn him for making her afraid. She was halfway cowering amid the plants, just to escape him. And he was gloating about it.

  ‘Or will you take another man into your bed?’ His voice was silky, hinting at his own forbidden desires. ‘A man who knows how to conquer you.’

  Her common sense snapped. Who was he to threaten her in this way? How dare he corner her, behaving as though he were her master?

  Without thinking, she darted forward, slicing her knife at his face. The tip of her blade caught his cheek, and blood welled up. His grip caught her wrist, and he squeezed until she thought he would break her wrist. ‘That was a mistake, Lady Honora.’

  She bit her lip hard to keep from crying out. He stared at her, letting her know with his eyes what he wanted to do to her. And the coldness there, the utter ruthlessness of his gaze, terrified her.

  At last, he let go, and she nearly sank to her knees from the pain. John stepped past her, as though she were something to be discarded. After he’d gone, she released the tears, hot tears of rage against her helplessness.

  She’d always taken comfort in her fighting skills, but he’d stripped that away. He’d made her aware of her weaknesses, and with that knowledge, her confidence withered.

  Had she really thought she could raise up men against him?

  Shaken, Honora rose to her feet, still clutching her injured wrist. With her other hand, she reached down to pick up the fallen knife.

  Aye, she had made a mistake in cutting John. And now, she had no doubt he would retaliate. As she returned to the donjon, she felt her anger building even higher.

  She needed to train harder. She needed to anticipate his moves, never letting herself become his victim.

  And next time, she would win.

  Chapter Ten

  ‘What happened to your wrist?’ Katherine asked when Honora returned to their shared chamber.

  Honora couldn’t hide the reddened skin, and she didn’t know whether to confess the truth to Katherine or not. A lie would be easy, but then again, she didn’t want Katherine to trust John.

  ‘The Baron of Ceredys and I had a disagreement in the garden,’ she admitted. ‘He did not take kindly to it.’

  ‘He hurt you.’ Katherine’s tone sharpened. ‘And Father needs to know about it.’

  ‘I will tell him,’ Honora replied, though she had no intention of doing so. Nicholas would hardly believe her, and even if he did, John could claim that he’d defended himself when she’d tried to stab him. Which was the truth.

  No, her father would only take John’s side and order her punished for the injury. Best to say nothing.

  ‘You still treat me as though I am a child,’ Katherine said softly. ‘I know something terrible happened to you when you dwelled at Ceredys. But you never speak of it.’

  ‘If I speak of it, it is like living it all over again,’ Honora admitted.

  ‘Don’t return there,’ Katherine cautioned her. ‘If John did this to you, I don’t think it would be wise to live with him.’

  Her sister took her uninjured hand, squeezing it lightly. ‘You worry about me so often, but this time it’s different. Father gave you a choice, and you should think of yourself. Marry the man you want.’

  ‘I can’t,’ Honora said softly. At her sister’s questioning look, she added, ‘I don’t want to wed any man at all. Not after my first marriage.’ She drew Katherine into a soft embrace. ‘But don’t worry. I’ll find a way to change our father’s mind. He’ll let you wed MacEgan without forcing me to remarry.’

  ‘I think you’re giving up too soon,’ her sister said. ‘Sir Ademar offered for you. He would be glad to have you as his bride.’

  Honora shook her head. There was no man who would ever accept her for who she was. Not her father, not Ranulf. Both of them wanted her to be a meek, subservient woman who obeyed their commands. But she was a warrior at heart, even if she could never reveal it to anyone.

  ‘Go and have the healer look at your wrist.’ Katherine pushed her towards the door. ‘I’ll speak to our father about John.’

  ‘No, it’s not necessary.’ Honora didn’t want Katherine tangled up in her war with John. ‘Right now, I’m going out for a ride near the river. I want some time to think.’ And time to make her plans.

  In the past few days, there had been no sign of the chapel thief. Possibly the man had found what he sought, or he’d given up.

  ‘Don’t go alone,’ her sister warned. ‘Take a guard with you.’

  Honora nodded, though she had no wish for an escort. Right now she wanted to be alone, away from everyone else, while she practised with a sword. Though it was dangerous, she felt the need for solitude.

  Katherine embraced her again, her expression wary. ‘Be back by sundown.’

  Honora sent her sister an exasperated smile. ‘Yes, Mother.’

  The river cut through the Ardennes lands, narrowing to a stream that fed the castle’s water supply. From the past few days of rain, it had swollen above the banks, spilling into the grasses.

  Ewan studied the horizon, searching for any hidden threats to the lone figure resting beside the river. It seemed Honora was still alone.

  Katherine had come to him, warning of her sister’s intent to go riding. ‘She says she’ll take a guard, but I know she won’t. And after what John did to her wrist—’

  She explained the rest, and Ewan’s temper flared. Knowing that the bastard had hurt her again, only moments after he’d left Honora’s side, made him want to ensure that Ceredys never raised a hand against a woman ever again.

  Katherine had pleaded with him to follow Honora and to protect her. ‘I trust you to take care of her,’ she’d said.

  Her consummate faith was a harsh blow to Ewan’s conscience. He didn’t deserve her trust, not after what he’d done. But neither did he want Honora to be alone and vulnerable to attack.

  The silvery reflection of the river glinted in the distance, an
d he slowed his horse. Honora was standing beside her mount, looking into the distance.

  Her blue bliaud was rumpled, her veil askew upon her head. In her left hand, she held a sword, moving through a few practice swings. Her slender form moved with grace, the sword a natural extension of her arm.

  Like the blade, she held a power of her own, cool and deadly. And despite the face she put on before others, he’d seen beneath her steel façade.

  Instinct warned him to stay away from Honora, despite his promise to her sister. Something had shifted between them, and it unsettled him. He’d come here planning to wed Lady Katherine. She held the key to everything he wanted, land of his own and a wife at his side.

  And yet, he found himself daydreaming of Honora. Even last night, he’d awoken in a cool sweat, his body deeply aroused. He’d imagined her naked body twined around his, her warm skin beside him. He wanted to watch her face shift into ecstasy when he pleasured her. To taste her, to make her scream his name when he filled her body with his own flesh.

  He wanted her more than anything he’d ever wanted in his life. And it had become a fierce torment, knowing that he would never have her.

  Marriages were meant for alliances and increasing wealth, not personal desires. He couldn’t give up everything, the ambitions that he’d dreamed of his entire life, for one woman. It wasn’t fair to Honora either, for he had nothing to offer her in return.

  The light gleamed against her sword before she sheathed it once more. Honora rested her face against the horse’s saddle, her shoulders slumped. She gripped her right wrist, as though she were fighting back against the pain.

  Ewan couldn’t stay behind any longer. He brought his horse closer, knowing he was intruding upon a private moment.

  ‘I know you’re there,’ Honora called out. ‘Katherine sent you, didn’t she?’

  Ewan gave no answer, but tethered his horse at a nearby tree. She turned to face him, her expression guarded. ‘What is it you want?’

  ‘Your sister told me what happened. And that you came here alone.’

  ‘I’ve a right to be alone, if I wish.’ She kept her attention upon her horse, patting the mare’s flanks. ‘Especially if I need to train.’

  ‘No. You’re not going to fight Ceredys again.’

  Trouble brewed in her eyes, and she sent him a furious glare. ‘You aren’t my master, MacEgan. Ceredys will meet my blade. I won’t be his victim.’

  ‘You’re right,’ he said softly. ‘Because he will meet my blade. And when I’m finished with him, Ceredys won’t touch a woman ever again.’

  To underscore his point, he lifted up her right wrist to study it. The skin surrounding her wrist was scarlet and starting to bruise. Gently, he touched the injury, his fingertips lightly skimming the surface.

  ‘Tell me what happened.’

  Honora looked uneasy. ‘John cornered me, and I cut him with my dagger to escape. He grabbed my wrist and nearly broke it.’

  She explained the rest, but Ewan hardly heard a word of it. He was going to tear Ceredys apart the next time he set eyes upon the man. ‘I don’t want you near him again. Stay close to your father, if need be.’

  ‘I don’t have a choice, Ewan.’ She shifted her gaze back to the river. ‘If I return to Ceredys, I cannot avoid him.’

  ‘You can’t even think of going back to live with a man like Ceredys.’ Rigid anger tightened in his fists. ‘It isn’t safe.’

  ‘If someone threatened your tribesmen, you would go back to defend them, regardless of the danger.’ She unsheathed her sword with her left hand. ‘There’s no one else to protect the people from John. It is my duty.’

  ‘You haven’t the means.’

  ‘No, but I’ll find a way. I’ll get an army of my own.’

  She lunged with her blade against an invisible enemy. Her motions were charged with anger, as though she raged against her own weakness.

  Ewan withdrew his own weapon, watching her. Though she poured her efforts into it, her fighting skills were noticeably weaker with her left hand.

  Honora stopped for a moment, her sides heaving with exertion. ‘My father wants me to wed a man with an army. Perhaps I should.’

  Jealousy blasted through him, though he knew it was unreasonable. A husband would help Honora appeal to the king on behalf of her people. He could also ensure her safety.

  But the idea of another man laying claim to her bed, touching her intimately, made Ewan clench his sword hilt. ‘I thought you had no desire to wed.’

  ‘I don’t.’ She touched her weapon to his. ‘But my father won’t let Katherine wed until I do.’

  He hadn’t known about that condition. Honora lifted a hand in dismissal. ‘Don’t fear. I’ll find a way to change his mind.’ With a shrug, she added, ‘But I wouldn’t make any man a good wife. Ranulf was right about that.’

  ‘Honora—’

  ‘No, it’s true. Tell me honestly—if I had Katherine’s dowry, would you wed a woman like me? A woman more comfortable with a sword than a spindle?’

  Ewan studied her vivid green eyes, the shorn dark hair. Upon her face, he saw the self-doubts, the belief she held that she was undesirable. ‘I would wed you in a moment, if you had your sister’s dowry.’

  Uncertainty and panic swept over her face. ‘You’re lying.’

  He’d made her uncomfortable with the admission, which hadn’t been his intent. To alleviate her panic, he added, ‘And I’d likely murder you the next day.’

  She seemed to relax at that. ‘I might murder you first.’ Circling him, she tapped her sword against his. ‘Care to spar with me? Unless you’re afraid I’ll win.’

  He wasn’t, but he didn’t want to injure her further. ‘Can you fight with your left hand?’

  ‘Somewhat.’ With a slight smile on her face, she made the first strike. Ewan blocked it easily, and she grimaced. ‘I haven’t practised much.’

  He waited for her to make the next move, keeping on the defensive.

  ‘Don’t you dare let me win,’ Honora ordered.

  ‘Have I ever?’ He parried another strike, moving easily as she tried again to find a weakness.

  ‘No,’ she admitted. Venturing a smile, she added, ‘It’s why I’ve always liked fighting with you.’

  He made no comment, though he’d enjoyed their sparring as well. But now, the fight had taken on a different cast, one he hadn’t expected. As she wielded the sword, he noticed the flush of excitement on her face, the fullness of her mouth. His awareness of her grew more intense, and he had to remind himself of all the reasons why he needed to end this fight and bring her back to Ardennes.

  He quickened his speed, slashing his blade towards hers while releasing his own frustration. But Honora met him, blow for blow.

  He wasn’t sure how she’d managed it. A trace of pride lined her cheeks. Her green eyes warmed with the challenge, even as he spied a faint perspiration upon her brow.

  ‘I was grateful for your training, years ago.’ She lunged forwards, and he parried the blow. ‘No one else would teach me.’

  ‘You were as good as many of the others.’ He tried again to loosen the weapon by striking hard against her blade. Once more, she kept it steady.

  ‘Sometimes better than you,’ she teased.

  He struck again, using his strength against her. Honora grunted as he slashed the blade, and when her grip faltered, he sent the weapon spinning into the grass. ‘Not this time.’

  She bent to pick up the sword, but Ewan stopped her. ‘Leave it. Rest for a moment.’ He walked beside her, towards the river. Honora bent down and scooped a handful of water to drink. The droplets trickled down her throat down into her bodice.

  Ewan couldn’t have torn his gaze away if he’d tried. The blue fabric clung to her skin, outlining firm breasts that he’d caressed in his hands only last night. He wanted to run his mouth over the water, peeling back her gown to expose her body. In his mind, he imagined pouring cold water over her nipples, watching them bloom. He’d wa
rm them with his tongue and his mouth, suckling her until she grew wet.

  She tempted him in a way no woman ever had. Everything about her—not only her fiery temperament, but the softness of her face, the way she moved. The way he’d always been able to talk to her.

  Enough. This was a path to madness. The sooner he wed Katherine, the sooner he could be away from Honora.

  ‘Do you want to start again?’ she asked.

  Aye, he did. But not a sword fight. He turned away so she wouldn’t see his reaction to her. ‘It’s late. We should go back.’

  ‘Go back if you wish. I intend to keep training.’ She wiped her mouth with her palm.

  ‘Not here, you won’t. You’re going back to your father’s castle. It’s not safe for a woman to be alone.’ He wasn’t about to leave her behind, no matter how she might protest.

  ‘I don’t need your protection. I can handle myself.’

  He shot a glance at her bruises. ‘Of course you can.’

  ‘Stop mocking me.’

  ‘You cannot defeat John of Ceredys, and you know this.’

  Honora stormed towards him and reached for the sword at his waist. She unsheathed it, her face determined. ‘I can, and I will.’

  A second later, the weapon fell from her hands, and she clenched her wrist. Her face went white with agony. ‘Wrong hand.’ She winced.

  Ewan led her to a flat stone and guided her to sit down. ‘Breathe through the pain. It will pass.’ He soaked her fallen veil in the cold river water and wrung it out, wrapping the icy linen around her wrist.

  ‘I have to go back to Ceredys, Ewan,’ Honora insisted. ‘I can’t let John win.’

  The pain etched on her face was about more than her wrist, he realised. Even if he wed Katherine and left Honora behind, she wouldn’t give up her quest to defend her people.

  ‘He doesn’t fight fair,’ Ewan reminded her. ‘And you’re used to fighting by the rules.’

  ‘I can learn to fight differently,’ she insisted. ‘Show me how.’

  ‘You’re hurt.’

  ‘Please, Ewan.’ She held the linen against her wrist, rising up on to her knees. There was such earnestness in her eyes, he didn’t want to deny her. ‘You’re the only man who will help me.’