Katherine stared down at her hands, but she didn’t attempt a conversation either. Honora was walking through the long grasses, her hand shielding her eyes in the sunlight.
“Do you think she’ll marry?” he asked Katherine, nodding toward her sister. The topic of Honora’s future was a safe one.
“I hope so.” Katherine studied a piece of cheese as if she intended to hold it, rather than eat it. “She deserves to be happy after what she endured at Ceredys.”
“And what was that?”
Katherine rubbed her arms, as though it had grown cold. “She won’t tell me. But I know she’s angry about what happened there. She doesn’t sleep well at night.” Lowering her voice, she added, “Also, someone has been searching her belongings. I don’t know why, but I’ve found her gowns spread out, as though they were looking for something.”
The thief again. Ewan frowned, for Honora had never mentioned a threat to herself.
“Does she know about it?”
Katherine shrugged. “I’ve tried to keep it from her. She has enough worries. But I’ve alerted Father’s soldiers to keep our chamber guarded at all times.”
“Good.”
She ventured a conspiratorial smile at him, and Ewan reached out to take her hand. The smooth skin was cool, completely unlike Honora’s roughened palm. Katherine allowed him to hold her hand for a few moments, but when his thumb grazed her palm, she pulled her hand back.
“What is the matter?” he asked.
She gripped her hands together, staring off into the distance. “It’s my foolishness. And I’m feeling angry at myself for what happened last night. I was weak, when I should have tended the cut on your arm.”
It was the last thing he’d expected her to say. “It’s all right.”
“No, it wasn’t. My sister helped you when it should have been me.” Katherine lowered her gaze, as though ashamed of herself. And when she stared toward Honora, there was envy in her eyes.
He understood what it meant to compare herself to a sibling. All his life, he’d lived in the shadow of his brothers. But now, he was finally seizing control of his fate. With Katherine as his bride, he could at last be master of his own lands.
To lighten her mood, Ewan suggested, “If I slice my arm open again, I’ll call upon you to sew it up.”
Her lips tilted. “And as soon as you start to bleed, I’ll likely faint. You’d be better off with a healer.” She shook her head and sighed. “Honora has far more courage than me.”
He didn’t deny it but neither did he expect Katherine to be the same as her sister. To change the subject, he asked, “Is there anyone she might wed?”
“Sir Ademar asked her to consider him,” Katherine admitted. Her color deepened, though Ewan didn’t understand why. “He told me last night.”
He’d known that Ademar had asked Honora for a token, and she had given him a ribbon. Yet she’d said nothing about him as a possible husband.
Ewan reached into the basket and tore another chicken leg off the roasted fowl. No, Sir Ademar was not at all suitable for Honora. Off the battlefield, the man was far too quiet. Honora would run over him, dominating every aspect of their marriage. She could only live with a man who had the personality to equal her own.
“Will she accept him as her husband, do you think?” He kept his question casual, as though he weren’t interested in whether or not Honora intended to marry.
“Perhaps.” Katherine broke off another piece of cheese and leaned closer to him. “He has been kind to her.” Raising up the food, she looked directly into his eyes. “He’s handsome, too.”
When she placed the cheese in his mouth, Ewan captured her fingertips, kissing them. It was expected of him. But her fingers felt cold beneath his mouth. Katherine’s face turned scarlet, but she did not pull away.
Before he could pursue things further, a noise broke into his awareness. Horses were approaching at a steady speed.
Ewan broke away and unsheathed his sword. From this distance, he could not see the men, but he would take no chances with their safety. Katherine made a small sound, and he pushed her behind him. From his periphery, he spied Honora clenching her dagger, poised in a fighting stance.
It was three men, armed, but they carried no shields. Ewan at last recognized two of the suitors, Sir Ademar and Beaulais. The third man he hadn’t seen before.
Honora had gone white, her hand in a death grip upon the dagger. She moved beside him, and her fear unnerved him. Nothing and no one had ever frightened Honora.
But this man did.
Chapter Six
