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 armory. Nor did anyone notice when she emerged, a lightweight sword strapped to her waist. She’d foregone any gloves, preferring a stronger grip by fighting bare-handed. The gauntlets 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 ringing 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.”
AfterhereturnedKatherinesafely 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 my wife across the sea when she’s going to give birth in the summer, 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 with me. 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 feed 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 favor. No thanks to her sister.” He explained Honora’s antics from that morning. She’d claimed that 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 onto him when he didn’t want her there.
Strangely, he found it less of an annoyance. She’d been furious with him for kissing Katherine, and wasn’t that interesting? Like a jealous woman, she’d practically shaken the branches off the tree to gain his notice. It should have irritated him. Instead, it intrigued him.
“Did you learn anything while you were visiting the earl?” Ewan asked.
“Only that I’m grateful there’s a sea between us.” Bevan shuddered. “Otherwise, they would already be arranging betrothals for the children.”
“I mean about . . . other matters. Did you hear anything about Honora’s former husband, Ranulf St. Leger?”
Bevan rubbed the stubble of beard upon his cheeks. “Now why would I be wanting to know anything about him?”
Ewan shrugged, trying to behave as though the answer didn’t matter. “I would know why Honora loathes the idea of remarrying.”
“Why don’t you ask her that yourself?”
“I have. And she won’t tell me anything.”
Bevan’s eyes turned contemplative. “It bothers you, her former marriage.” Before he could deny it, his brother continued, “Have you asked yourself why you’re asking such a question? Would you rather court her instead of Katherine?”
“No. Honora is too—“ He struggled to find the right words. Too vivid, too passionate. “Too troubled,” he finished. “And Katherine has dowry lands in Éireann, south of Dubh Linn. Honora’s lands are bound to John St. Leger, Ranulf’s son. I want no part of that.”
“Then stop asking about Honora, and concern yourself with Katherine.”
It was sound advice, and he knew he should obey. Yet, with each passing moment, he wondered why he couldn’t seem to cast Honora from his thoughts.
“You should return home, Bevan,” Ewan suggested. “There’s no reason for you to linger any more.”
“I came to witness your wedding.” Though his brother’s tone was gruff, Ewan knew that Bevan missed his wife.
“There is no need. The Earl of Longford will act as witness.” With a pointed look, he added, “Genevieve will not be pleased if she gives birth early and you are not with her.”
“The babe will not be here until summer.”
