His hands slid toward the folds of the tunic, pressing back the fabric to study her skin, reddened by the armor. The unexpected sensation of his hands upon her sent a spiral of heat up her spine.
“Ewan, don’t.” It was a lover’s touch, not the touch of a man inspecting a wound.
“You should never have challenged him,” Ewan insisted. “You aren’t strong enough to defeat him.”
Her pride flared up. “My skills are good enough. Strength doesn’t matter.”
“It does. And you should have known your limitations.”
“I can best any man among them, MacEgan. Including you.” She tried to push his hand away, but he held her shoulders, granting no reprieve. In a silent war, she fought against his unyielding strength.
“You won’t best me, Honora. Not ever.”
His voice was deep with the undertones of sexual frustration. When she looked into his eyes, she saw that their battle had shifted into something else. He wanted her. And he didn’t like it at all.
He relaxed his hold, allowing her the chance to escape. But Honora didn’t move. She wasn’t sure she could, for right now, her skin was covered in goose flesh, her blood turning hot. Without thinking, she rested her palms upon his tunic, trying to still her racing heart.
“You need to leave, Honora.” Even as he spoke, his hands cupped her shorn hair, sliding through the softness. He massaged her temples, and Honora closed her eyes, drinking in his touch.
“Why do you make me feel like this?” she whispered. “It was never this way with Ranulf.”
She’d been misused by her husband. Ewan was sure of it. He wanted to tell her that no man should ever mistreat his wife, that it wasn’t her fault. He wanted her to know how desirable she was, that any man would want her.
The way he wanted her.
Her mouth, sensual and full, was slightly open. And he could no longer deny himself this craving for her. His mouth descended upon hers, for he needed to know if the last time had been accidental lust.
It wasn’t.
Quite simply, Honora’s kiss took him apart. Though he’d never understand what it was about her that enslaved him, he wasn’t about to release her sweet mouth. Not yet. His tongue slid inside, in the imitation of what he wanted to do to her.
No brotherly thoughts, this time. He wanted to lift her atop the bed and drive himself deep inside her body until she cried out in ecstasy. His manhood ached, its hardness straining against his trews. He wanted her wet, to drive her into the same frenzy he felt.
The sounds she made while he kissed her aroused him to the point of pain. He lifted her leg around his hip, lowering her to the floor.
She kissed him back, as lost as he was. He ran his mouth down the softness of her throat while his hands caressed her back. Loosening the tunic even more, he revealed the swollen redness above her breasts, kissing the spot with his mouth.
He brought his hands up her smooth stomach, resting his palms to cup her bare breasts. He let the heavy weight of them sink into his palms, and he wanted his mouth on her tight nipples.
Damn her for taking such chances with her life. Seeing her struck down had driven him past the brink. The idea of any man hurting her, whether intentional or not, kindled an undeniable fury.
With his thumbs, he grazed the erect nipples, growling when he heard her sharp intake of breath. He lifted her up to straddle him, sliding his hard erection between her thighs. She was shaking, caught between fear and need.
Through the men’s braies she wore, Ewan cupped her bottom, kneading the tight flesh as he lifted her against his shaft.Críost, he wanted to take her right then. He wanted to rip the fabric apart, plunging his body inside hers.
Honora clasped his head between her palms, pleading, “Ewan, no.” In a broken voice, she whispered, “This is wrong.”
His brain was clouded, unable to gather a clear thought. Honora shoved away from him, and he released her immediately.
God above, what had he done? He’d never meant to lay a hand upon her, much less allow things to go this far. He released her immediately, sitting back with his knees drawn up. “You’re right. I’m sorry.” Resting his forehead on his palm, he now understood his brother’s warning. He’d let himself fall prey to her spell, seduced by this unexpected fire between them. He didn’t like himself at all, nor what he’d done.
“It won’t happen again,” he swore.
Honora righted her clothing, but he saw her trembling fingers. She gripped the bedpost until her knuckles whitened. “Do not speak of this to Katherine. Promise me.”
He gave a curt nod. If Katherine learned of it, his courtship chances were over. “You’d better go.”
She nodded, looking miserable. After she’d fled the chamber, Ewan expelled a curse. Desire meant nothing. Though he might have lost his head, acting upon lust instead of logic, he could never wed Honora. Not only would they argue with each other from dusk until dawn, but she lacked the land he needed.
