Let him go away, she prayed. She needed to rid herself of this armor and tend to her bruises in private.
When she entered the donjon, he caught up to her. His voice remained just above a whisper. “I know what you’re doing, Honora. And I want to talk with you. Now.”
He knew. How? She’d revealed none of her hair, none of her female form. Nothing should have given her away.
She sent him an infuriated look. Keeping her voice low-pitched, she demanded, “And just what am I doing?”
“You’d best be in my chamber within the next two minutes,” he ground out in a voice just above a whisper, “or I’ll be having a few words with your father.”
“This armor,” she protested.
“Get rid of it, then,” he acceded. “But make no mistake—be there, or I will drag you inside.”
She strode up the stairs, her thighs burning with exertion by the time she reached the chamber she shared with Katherine. Opening the door slightly, she cursed inwardly when she saw her sister sitting there.
Jesu. She couldn’t enter, not without revealing herself. Silently, she closed the door and retraced her steps back to Ewan’s chamber. Knocking slightly, she nearly fell forward when the door jerked open.
Ewan closed the door behind her, barring it. Then he reached up and removed the heavy coif from her head. “I thought you were going to change back into your gown.”
“Katherine was inside our chamber,” she admitted. “I couldn’t let her see.”
Ewan’s face tightened, his anger exploding. “And yet you paraded among the men as though you were one of them? Why? Why would you seek out danger in that way?”
“I wanted to train. I’m losing my skills, and I need to—“
“You’ve no need to wield a sword.” He helped her lift away the chain mail byrnie, setting the armor shirt aside. “Damn it, Ceredys could have hurt you.”
He did, she wanted to say, but her stubborn tongue fell silent.
Clad in only the tunic, braies, and chausses, Honora sat down. She rested her elbows upon her knees, leaning forward to hide herself. The tunic stretched across her breasts, and she grew uncomfortably aware of the pain she’d suffered from John’s blade. Though the chainmail had protected her from being cut, the armor had bruised her skin. Her body ached, and her arms were exhausted. She longed to sink into a hot bath, letting the water soothe her tired muscles.
“You’re in pain. Let me see.” He didn’t ask permission, but moved closer, kneeling before her. He loosened the ties of the tunic, and she didn’t stop him. Baring the flesh above her breasts, he revealed the reddened skin.
His fingertips grazed the surface, gently examining it. “You shouldn’t have fought him.”
“I know that now.” But she had foolishly believed herself capable of defeating John. She’d wanted revenge for all that he’d done. And she’d failed.
Hot tears sprang to her eyes, but she blinked them away. Embarrassed at her loss, she didn’t know what else to say.
The touch of Ewan’s hands loosened her hold upon her thoughts. His fingers rested upon her shoulders, the gentle warmth inviting. Without thinking, she put her hands upon his. She wanted him to kiss her again. Shame filled her, for that could never be.
To cover her thoughts, she traced the scars on his palms. “These have healed well.” When he’d first come to the Longford estate to be fostered, she’d seen the angry red slashes, the result of torture he’d endured. “Did it hurt, when they cut you?”
“It hurt worse, knowing I betrayed my brother. If I hadn’t confessed where they were hiding, Marstowe wouldn’t have found them.”
“But Bevan forgave you.”
Ewan nodded. He pulled his hands away, resting them upon her waist. “It took longer to forgive myself.”
She needed to pull away from him, but his hands trapped her in place. What was he doing? Why was he remaining so close to her? Swallowing hard, she said, “I am sorry for following you and Katherine. It was wrong of me.”
He studied her, his stare penetrating. Those heated green eyes captured her own, watching her with open desire. “Why did you?”
“I told you, I wanted to protect her.”
“From kissing a man like me.”
“Yes,” she whispered.
