“And they all come when they are expected, do they?” Ewan saw his brother’s look of discomfort, for their youngest son Cavan had taken them all by surprise. It was only by the grace of God that the child had lived.
“Return home to your wife and the children,” Ewan urged. “I will be well enough. And I’ll bring my bride to meet our family, once we are wed.”
Though Bevan appeared uneasy about it, he did not argue. “Don’t linger here, then. We’ll expect you home by Midsummer’s Eve.”
The summer feast was one Ewan particularly enjoyed, and he nodded in agreement. “I will be there.”
“Good. In the meantime, I’ll speak to the earl and find out what I can about a betrothal for you.” Bevan reached out and gripped his hand.
Ewan returned the squeeze and met his brother’s gaze. “I’m going to win the land, Bevan.”
“I do not doubt it. But I’m not certain that a sweet, fair lady is quite what you want.”
His brother’s words resonated in his mind. Why would he want anything less? Katherine was perfect for him.
“Have a safe journey.”
His older brother gripped him in an embrace, slapping him upon the shoulders. “I’ll send Connor back in my place. He’ll escort you home.”
“I’d rather spend the journey alone with my bride.”
Bevan’s scarred face cracked a smile. “I can understand that. But don’t do anything foolish. Like wed the wrong woman.”
As if there were any chance of that. Honora and he could not be any more ill-suited.
After his brother departed, Ewan reached for his scabbard and sword. A hard fight was what he needed now, a chance to push himself beyond the limits.
Perhaps then, he could get Honora out of his mind.
Johntossedherashield, and Honora caught it, raising the wood to meet his first blow. He wasted no time in attacking, hammering blows against her blade that numbed her shoulders.
But she continued her defense, remaining steady on her feet.
“Not much of a fighter, are you, lad?” John moved in closer, forcing her to raise her shield to block his strike. He was toying with her, making it difficult to judge his skills. He could defeat her if she didn’t concentrate.
Honora watched carefully for an opening, then used her full strength to arc the blade toward his ribs. At the last moment, John used his shield to deflect the slice, knocking her arm backwards at the force.
She’d never fought him directly. Her earlier victory against him, on the night when she’d used her knife, had been with the advantage of surprise. His strength and cunning undermined her confidence, and she was starting to question the wisdom of this match.
He continued to best her, forcing her to retreat. Then her blade slipped free, and she nicked his arm, drawing blood.
John roared with anger, charging toward her. Honora didn’t think, couldn’t move. At the last possible moment, she raised her wooden shield, stunned when John knocked it aside. Without it, she had only her blade to block his attack now.
The others moved in, watching the sparring match. Sir Ademar, along with Beaulais, stood among them.
Honora struggled to keep her sword upright to defend herself, knowing that she’d chosen poorly for her opponent. John didn’t fight fair, and the flat of his blade caught her across the chest.
The breath knocked out of her lungs as she hit the ground on her back. Honora raised her arm over her face, unable to sit up from the heavy armor. Then another male voice spoke.
“You’ve won the match, Ceredys. Let the lad go and tend his humiliation in private.”
It was Ewan. Oh, heaven, she prayed he wouldn’t recognize her. Not after she’d been defeated so soundly.
Honora rolled sideways, struggling to sit up. The chain mail byrnie made it nearly impossible. Her back ached, her chest burned, but if she hadn’t worn the armor, no doubt she would be dead.
Slowly, she rose to her feet, her head hanging down. It was the worst fight she’d ever endured. What had happened to her courage, her fighting skills? Everything had dissolved when she’d faced John’s blade.
The others let her go, but she heard footsteps following behind. With a glance over her shoulders, she saw it was Ewan. Now what did he want?
