Taming Her Irish Warrior

by Michelle Willingham

  He didn’t want to. She didn’t truly understand what a man like John was capable of. She could lose her life, if she attempted an attack.

  ‘It’s too dangerous.’

  She drew closer to him, resting her hands upon his shoulders. ‘I won’t forget what he did to the women of Ceredys. And whether or not you believe I should face him again, I intend to.’

  The fearless vengeance upon her face made him aware that she would not hesitate to give up her own life in this battle. Without question.

  And he wasn’t about to have her death upon his conscience.

  He picked up his fallen sword and held it up. ‘You lost your fight against John as soon as you lost your sword.’

  ‘I won’t lose it, next time.’

  He didn’t want there to be a next time. But Honora wasn’t the sort of woman to admit any weakness. Perhaps there was no harm in showing her a few methods of hand-to-hand fighting. At least she could protect herself, if she no longer had a weapon.

  He took her left hand in his. ‘You should learn what to do, in case you have no weapon.’

  From the guilty look upon her face, he supposed she was reliving her earlier failures. Exerting pressure on her left hand, Ewan murmured, ‘Take control of my blade. Don’t let me overpower you.’

  She gripped his wrist with her left hand, waiting for his next move. ‘Now what?’

  The light touch of her hands upon him shook his concentration. Her leg rested against his, braced in a fighting stance. The hem of her gown had ridden up, baring her calf.

  ‘Use one of your legs to kick my feet from under me,’ he instructed. ‘The way you did before.’

  ‘I only managed because your sword was caught in the wall.’

  ‘Do it.’

  Perhaps she’d bash some sense into his head when he struck the ground. Perhaps then he’d remember the woman he was going to marry, and not the woman he desired.

  Honora kicked her leg towards him, but only struck the back of his calves. The blow did nothing to his balance, though he’d get another bruise from it.

  ‘Is that the best you can do?’ he teased.

  She kicked again, but he didn’t budge. ‘I’m not strong enough.’

  Gripping her elbows, he forced all of her weight to the side. ‘Pull your enemy’s weight on to one leg. Then take him down.’

  While she was off-balance, he lightly tapped the back of her leg. Before she could drop to the grass, he caught her. Despite her strength, she weighed little to him. He meant to set her back upon her feet, but instead, he kept her in his arms, just holding her.

  ‘What are you doing, Ewan?’ she whispered.

  He didn’t answer for a moment. His eyes searched hers, and in them he saw the same confusion. He touched her hair, bringing his hand to her nape. ‘I don’t know.’

  But he knew exactly what he’d been doing. He’d used this chance to hold her in his embrace, though it was wrong. Gently, he raised her back to a standing position.

  Honora ventured a sad smile when he sheathed his sword. She fumbled with the linen upon her wrist, saying at last, ‘Thank you for the lesson.’

  ‘You did well, a chara, in spite of your wrist.’

  She sobered at the endearment, her eyes turning serious.‘Am I your friend? After all of this difficulty with my sister, will I still be that to you?’

  Though he nodded, inwardly he wasn’t sure that could be true. And from the way she was looking at him now, he sensed that she wasn’t immune to him either.

  She gripped her wrists, her lower lip caught between her teeth like a guilty child.

  ‘Stay here,’ he said suddenly. ‘I’m going for a swim.’ He needed the icy water to drown the painful desire he wouldn’t act upon. By God, he wasn’t going to lay a finger upon her, no matter how badly he wanted to.

  Ewan lifted his tunic over his head, unbuckling his sword belt. She sat beside the bank, watching him while he undressed.

  ‘You’d best hurry up, or your clothes won’t have time to dry,’ she warned. ‘You wouldn’t want to return to my sister with soaked trews.’

  There was an unspoken dare within the words, her green eyes full of amusement.

  He didn’t shy away from her challenge. ‘That won’t be a problem, Honora. For I won’t be wearing clothes.’

  Before she could voice a protest, he dropped his trews and walked into the water, completely naked.

  Chapter Eleven

  Honora didn’t flinch, but looked her fill. By the blessed saints, the man had a beautiful body. All lean lines and pure muscle. She’d felt it pressed close to her, and it had stirred her senses. Though it was terribly wicked, she wanted to touch him again, to fill her hands with his toned flesh.

  Ewan swam long strokes through the water, crossing the narrow river to the opposite side and back again. Like the prow of a boat, he cut through the current, his golden skin sleek in the water.

  Honora sat on the hillside watching, her hands resting against her cheeks. She really ought to feel guilty, but instead she marvelled at how much Ewan had changed.

  The afternoon sun was growing hotter, and her hair clung to the back of her neck. Her gown was sticking to her skin, and the water looked far more inviting than it should have.

  What if she waded in to her knees? Surely she couldn’t drown in twelve inches of water, could she? And if a fish happened to swim close, she could run back to the shore. Though she knew it was ridiculous to be frightened of a fish, the idea of something cold and slimy, sneaking up to nibble her skin, made her want to yelp.

  ‘Are you going to join me?’ Ewan asked, slicking his hair back. Droplets of water glistened upon his chest. ‘It’s not as cold as it looks.’

  ‘I was thinking of wetting my feet,’ she admitted. ‘But that’s all.’

  ‘Go on, then. No harm in it.’

  She squinted at him, as if deciding whether or not he was telling the truth. The water did look refreshing. She took her shoes off, dropping them on the embankment.

  ‘Are you afraid?’ he asked.

  ‘No,’ she lied. Gingerly, she took a step forwards. The sandy river bottom shifted against her feet in a silken caress. And the water, oh, the water was heavenly. Lightly cool with a hint of warmth. She took a few steps forwards until it lapped against her knees. Holding her skirts up to her thighs, she managed to protect her bliaud.

  Ewan started to walk towards her, and as the water grew lower, past his chest to his waist, she held up her hands. ‘You stay there.’ She could almost see his hip bones, and, God forgive her, she already knew what lay beneath the surface.

  He raised his hands up, as though in surrender. ‘As you command.’ He studied her, and asked, ‘Are you still unable to swim?’

  ‘I can,’ she argued. ‘But I’m not very good.’

  ‘I’ll carry you, if you want to cool off.’ He backed away, lowering himself deeper into the water. As his shoulders disappeared beneath the rippled surface, he added, ‘But you might get wet.’

  The deep huskiness of his voice touched her like a physical caress. Without warning, her nipples grew erect, the heavy cloth confining them. She felt herself responding to him, her body rising up to a silent call.

  Ewan disappeared under the water, and she stared at the spot where he’d just been.

  What was he doing? When he didn’t resurface, she began to get nervous. The murky water made it difficult to see past waist-deep. Was he all right?

  She sloshed into the deeper water, trying to see. The water was calm, with only a slight disturbance caused by the wind.

  ‘MacEgan, stop this. Come out of the water!’

  Nothing. Honora leaned down and splashed at the surface. She studied the water, hoping to glimpse him. Oh Jesu, it had been far too long. Did he need her help?

  Something grazed against her knees, and she shrieked, splashing at the creature.

  Ewan surfaced seconds later, catching hold of her waist. He roared a mock battle cry, tossing her up in the a
ir. A screech slipped from her lips as she grabbed him on the way down.

  ‘Damn you, Ewan. Don’t let go of me.’

  He gripped her tightly, moving into deeper water.

  ‘Wh-what are you doing?’

  ‘Making sure you don’t let go.’ He brought her into the water, still holding her in his arms. The lower half of her gown was soaked, the heavy fabric weighing her down.

  ‘Take me back to the shore. I don’t like this.’ She gripped his neck harder, trying to lift every part of her body out of the river.

  ‘In a moment,’ he promised. His green eyes were almost the colour of moss, dark and forbidding. A single lift of her mouth, and she would kiss him. His skin was cool, completely at odds with the burning fire that licked at her insides.

  He slid a damp lock of hair from her cheek, and the touch made her skin unbearably sensitive.

  ‘Ewan,’ she whispered. She needed him so badly, it hurt. Her fingers shook as she reached up to touch his strong jaw.

  Without another word, he strode through the water and brought her back to the shoreline. Setting her bare feet upon the grass, he continued towards his fallen clothing. When he was fully dressed, he turned to her.

  ‘Put on your shoes, and I’ll take you back.’

  She sat down, the breeze making her sodden gown chilly against her skin. It wasn’t the only thing that had turned cold. She’d never seen Ewan this way, so distant. It was as if he couldn’t wait to be rid of her. And it hurt in a way she’d never expected. After she put on her shoes, he helped her onto her horse.

  She brought the animal up beside him, unsure of what she’d done to make him so angry. ‘Ewan, what is the matter?’

  ‘It’s best if you stay away from me right now, Honora.’ The hardened edge to his voice sounded predatory.

  ‘And why is that?’

  Without warning, he hauled her off the horse and dragged her mouth to his. The kiss ravaged her, tearing apart her arguments and forcing her to regret all the things she’d said. His heated embrace was carnal, and when his tongue touched hers, it ignited a fire inside her.

  Wet and sensual, she could barely hold on to him as he kissed her. His tongue warred with hers, stirring up feelings she tried to keep buried.

  For so long, he’d been her friend. He’d been the one to console her, when a sword fight had gone wrong. He’d bandaged her cuts, helped her with the lies to her father and to the Earl of Longford.

  And, God help her, she didn’t want to lose him. Not even to her sister.

  She rested her palm upon his cheek, watching the rise and fall of his breath. Then she found herself leaning in and kissing him again. Lightly, the barest hint of mouths merging, she gave him a part of herself. No longer did he kiss her with the aching lust, but instead he restrained the storm, letting her take the lead.

  She traced his mouth with her tongue, and his eyes darkened with a merciless desire. He wanted her, and she could feel his desire rising to meet hers.

  After today, she would have no choice but to leave him forever. Like removing a part of herself, she’d do what was necessary to push him into Katherine’s arms.

  But for now, and only this moment, there was this. His mouth slid over her cheek, down to her throat. When Ewan stopped kissing her, she saw the raw apprehension in his eyes.

  Like a man who hated himself for what he’d just done.

  Ewan avoided both Katherine and Honora for the remainder of the afternoon. Guilt weighed down his thoughts, and he contemplated the right course of action. He didn’t deserve to be here, much less wed Katherine of Ardennes. The kiss he’d shared with Honora had been the final blow to his honour.

  He should leave Ardennes, turning his attention back to his ambitions. There were other heiresses, or better yet, other ways of gaining the land. Being alone was no less than he deserved.

  He trudged into the Great Hall, taking a seat among the other suitors, next to Sir Ademar. The knight’s face appeared grim, his knuckles white as he clenched his fists.

  ‘What is amiss?’ Ewan asked.

  ‘Lady Katherine has made her choice of a h-husband. It will be announced this night.’

  The unexpected news caught him without warning. Had she chosen a different suitor? Glancing around, he saw that Gerald of Beaulais was no longer among them.

  ‘Where is Beaulais?’ he asked Sir Ademar.

  ‘Gone. He…he left since the Lady Katherine did not choose him.’

  Ewan wouldn’t miss the hot-headed Norman and was glad he’d gone. But he still saw tension on the knight’s face. ‘Whom did the Lady Katherine choose?’

  Before Ademar could answer, the Baron of Ardennes stood from his chair upon the dais.

  ‘My daughters have chosen from among the suitors,’ the Baron of Ardennes began, rising from his chair upon the dais. ‘I am happy to announce their betrothals. Lady Honora has selected Sir Ademar of Dolwyth to become her husband.’

  Sir Ademar glanced in his direction, an incredulous look upon his face. It was clear that Honora had not told him of her intentions, but the knight did not seem displeased.

  Ewan’s hands dug into the wooden table, caught up in disbelief. Honora had said she had no desire to wed. Had she changed her mind after what they’d done this afternoon?

  He tried to catch her gaze, but Honora refused to look at him. Instead, she reached over and squeezed her sister’s hand. Katherine’s smile was radiant, her eyes searching the crowd.

  And then he knew. Honora had agreed to a betrothal for her sister’s sake. She smiled at Ademar when he approached the dais, but her heart wasn’t in it.

  Would she go through with the marriage? Though he knew it would be a good match, the simple fact was, he didn’t want her to wed another man.

  But the Baron hadn’t finished. He stood, holding Katherine’s hand, as he raised his goblet in a toast. ‘My younger daughter has selected Ewan MacEgan as her husband.’

  He was hardly aware of the words of congratulations spoken by those around him. Words failed him as he half-rose from his seat.

  Honora stared straight at him, giving a faint nod. There was no happiness in her expression, only resignation. She believed this was what he’d wanted. And after this afternoon, after he’d broken his vow not to touch her again, she had taken it upon herself to bring Katherine back into his grasp.

  He tried not to stare at Honora, but beneath her masked smile, he saw misery.

  Ewan wasn’t sure how he managed to walk to the dais, for each step made it feel like a snare had tightened around his neck.

  And when Katherine flew into his embrace, he saw the sheen of tears in Honora’s eyes.

  That night, in the privacy of their shared bedchamber, Katherine whispered, ‘Ewan hasn’t said a word to me, Honora. Was I wrong to choose him?’

  ‘Of course not,’ she lied. ‘It was a surprise, that’s all. He was expecting to talk with our father first, I imagine.’

  Honora’s stomach wrenched at the thought of what she’d done. The stunned look in Ewan’s eyes had made her want to weep. She had spoken to her father out of desperation, knowing that Ewan had too much honour to refuse the match. He would accept Katherine as his bride and gain the land he’d always wanted.

  In turn, she would slip away quietly before her own wedding could take place. Though she disliked the idea of hurting Sir Ademar, there was nothing she could do.

  ‘He hasn’t spoken to me,’ Katherine continued. ‘And he looked so angry.’

  ‘He wasn’t angry with you. He was simply surprised that our father chose to announce it in that way.’

  ‘And you’re going to wed Sir Ademar.’ Katherine’s face flushed with excitement. ‘He seems like a good man.’

  ‘He is.’ A kind, humble man, who didn’t deserve to be used like this. Honora buried her face in the coverlet, wishing she could just run away right now.

  Could she talk to Sir Ademar? Persuade him to go along with the deception in order to see Katherine safely wed? Per
haps she could grant him something in return, such as rents from her dower portion.

  But, no. The knight had too much pride for that.

  The night hours wore on, and Honora still couldn’t sleep. When her sister’s shoulders rose and fell in deep slumber, she donned a cloak and tiptoed out of bed. She hardly knew where she was going, or what she planned to do, but restlessness plagued her.

  Most of the household was abed, and, except for the guards, she saw no one else. She continued down the staircase until she saw the familiar glow of candles inside the chapel.

  As she drew near, she went to study the wooden chest. Why had it been stolen in the first place? The dim glow of candlelight cast a soft light upon the wood, but she could see nothing that made it different from any other carved chest.

  She’d nearly forgotten about the thief, she’d been so caught up in worrying about John. Now she wondered if there was a connection between them.

  He wanted the ruby Marie St Leger had worn, along with the legendary treasure. The funds never seemed to be enough, no matter how much he possessed.

  The door opened, and her stomach sank when John entered the chapel, crossing himself as he did so. The gesture was almost a mockery, for surely he was a demon in the flesh.

  ‘Come to pray for your sins, Lady Honora?’ he murmured.

  The red gash upon his cheek caught her notice, and she reached for her knife. It wasn’t there. She’d forgotten to bring it, thinking there was no need, so late at night.

  ‘What do you want, John?’

  He moved closer, and Honora circled until her back was towards the door. She’d not let him imprison her again. Her mind spun with thoughts of how to escape him, should he threaten her.

  ‘You’re not going to wed Sir Ademar.’ His gaze lingered upon her breasts, his eyes hot. ‘You’re going to come back to Ceredys where you belong.’

  Honora clutched the edges of her cloak to hide her shift from John’s eyes. ‘That is my choice to make, not yours.’