Honora blinked at her sister, sending a fierce look toward him as if to say,Not a good idea.
He didn’t think so either. He’d rather have time alone with Katherine. Likely Honora had no desire to be a chaperone either, but neither of them could protest without raising suspicions. “I will await you on the morrow.”
“At the stables, if you please. Just past terce.”
He bowed in agreement, and turned to Honora. Though she attempted a smile, it was strained around the edges. He lowered his voice. “You didn’t tell me you were planning to wed again.”
“No, I didn’t.” From the tension lining her face, she was not pleased. Though she wore the outer finery of a lady, she appeared disinterested in finding a husband. Instead, she seemed to be counting down the hours until her escape.
“Is that what you want?”
Her discomfort seemed to intensify. “I don’t wish to talk about it now.”
Suspicions took root, but he held back the questions. Instead, as a gesture of peace, he offered, “I wish you luck in finding a man who pleases you.”
“These men aren’t here for me, Ewan,” she whispered, glancing down at her hands. “They’re here for Katherine. Yourself included.”
Misery lined her voice. He hadn’t expected to feel sorry for her. Though he didn’t know what, if anything, he could do, he supposed he could investigate the suitors. He’d promised to help her find the thief, after all.
“I’ll find out what I can about the other men.” It was the best he could do. He bowed to her, tightening his fist around Katherine’s ribbon.
As he turned to leave, she called out to him. “Ewan, wait.”
“What is it?”
She seemed to weigh an invisible decision over in her mind before she leaned in. “The tallest man, Sir Ademar of Dolwyth, likes to fight with both hands. Watch him carefully when you face him with a blade.”
“I will.”
The ghost of a smile touched her lips. “I bid you good luck. You’ll need it.”
“He’shandsome,isn’the?”Katherine cupped her chin in her hands, leaning forward to watch the wrestling match about to begin.
“Who? Sir Ademar?”
“Ewan.” Her sister gave a dreamy smile, which chafed at Honora. For the love of heaven, Katherine barely knew him. Already, the very mention of Ewan MacEgan seemed to make her swoon.
Honora gripped her knife, and tried to keep the annoyance out of her voice. “He has hardly any land of his own.”
“But his brother is a king. Surely that would make him a prince.”
“Patrick MacEgan is a petty Irish king, of no higher rank than our own father. And Ewan is the youngest of five brothers.”
Her sister didn’t seem to care. “Father would not have invited him, were he not a suitable husband.”
Honora didn’t point out that it was their father’s best friend, the Earl of Longford, who had done the inviting. She glanced over at Lord Longford, who was seated near their father. Stout, with gray hair and a gray beard, Longford’s eyes were quick and shrewd. She’d always had a fondness for the earl, after she’d spent nearly a year with their family. Her father had sent her away, as a punishment for her mischief.
It had turned out to be the greatest gift, for at Lord Longford, she had secretly learned to wield a sword.
She caught the eye of Bevan MacEgan. From the way Bevan kept his eyes upon Ewan, even during his conversation with the earl, Honora sensed his protective nature. The scars upon both cheeks emphasized a harsh face, making her uneasy. It would not be wise to make enemies of the MacEgan family.
The first wrestling match was about to begin, and Ewan was paired up against Gerald Elshire of Beaulais. Beaulais was a shorter man, with reddish hair and a stocky form. His family name was well known, and Honora leaned in to watch them fight.
Ewan had stripped of his outer clothing, save the pair of trews he wore. Katherine’s white ribbon was tied around his upper arm, and in the morning light, the sun glinted off his dark blond hair. Heavy muscles outlined his chest, his body as honed as a sword. Though Honora had seen him unclothed before, it was as if he were an entirely different man.
He had one of the most magnificent forms she’d ever seen. His broad shoulders narrowed to ridged stomach muscles, and his trews strained against the tight outline of his hips. Honora’s cheeks flushed at the sight, for she’d touched him that night, feeling his smooth skin still warm from sleep.
She shifted her thighs restlessly. Only yesterday, she’d inadvertently aroused him, and she remembered the feeling of his body nestled against hers.
