She would only control her portion of Ceredys during her lifetime. Afterward that, it reverted back to John and his heirs. Any children she bore would never see an acre of the land.
No, it was better for Honora to wed a man with his own holdings, his own estate. A man like Sir Ademar of Dolwyth, who stood to inherit his own fortune.
Ewan tried to ignore the surge of rage that blackened his mood at the thought of another man touching Honora. She wasn’t his, and never would be.
It was better for both of them that way.
Chapter Nine
Whensheenteredtheirshared bedchamber, Katherine kept her back turned, without acknowledging Honora’s greeting. Her sister was furious, and rightfully so.
And though Katherine knew nothing about what had just happened, Honora felt as though her sins were emblazoned across her face. Her guilt and self-loathing trebled, making it difficult to find the right words. There was nothing she could do except apologize and vow to herself that she’d not succumb to temptation again.
“I’m sorry,” Honora began. “I didn’t mean to pry earlier—only to watch over you.”
Katherine stiffened, and when at last she turned around, she frowned. “Why are you wearing a man’s clothing?” Her tone was so startled, it was as if Honora had walked naked into their chamber.
“My—other clothes were soiled,” Honora lied.
Though her sister didn’t appear to fully believe her, Katherine reached for a fresh gown from Honora’s trunk. Her movements were stiff, as though she were fulfilling an obligation. “Here.”
Honora took the garment but did not put it on yet. “You’re my only sister,” she said, continuing the apology. And regardless of what had happened with Ewan, she’d allow nothing to threaten their bond. “I don’t want anything to happen to you.”
“I am not fourteen years old anymore,” Katherine argued. “I don’t need a keeper.”
“You’re right,” Honora admitted. “But it’s hard to let go of old habits.” With a heavy sigh, she added, “I behaved badly.”
“Yes, you did,” her sister agreed. “You had no right to follow us.”
“I deserved this.” Honora touched her cheek, where Katherine had struck her earlier. The flesh was tender and would bruise later, she knew.
Katherine looked uncomfortable at the reminder. “No. I shouldn’t have struck you.”
You would do more than strike me, if you knew what I’ve done, Honora thought. But she shook her head. “I deserved it.”
Loosening the ties of the tunic, she lifted it over her head and started to put on the gown.
When she saw the red welt across her chest, Katherine stopped her. “What happened to you? I didn’t do that, did I?”
“No. It was my own clumsiness.” Another lie, added to those she’d already told. But thankfully, Katherine did not ask further questions.
Instead, her sister offered, “Do you want me to tend it? I’m not as good as you at healing, but it must pain you.”
Honora’s throat grew dry. The peace offering was so undeserved, she hardly knew what to say. “I’ll tend it later, after I’ve bathed.”
Katherine helped her arrange the bliaud, strangely quiet. “I know about the armor,” she said suddenly. “And your fighting.”
Honora froze, and an argument sprang to her lips.
“Don’t deny it.” Katherine lifted a hand, shaking her head. “I’ve known about it for years.”
It was the last thing she’d expected Katherine to say. “When did you find out?”
“When you came back from Longford.” Her sister sat down upon the bed, her hands folded in her lap. “Though I don’t understand your desire to fight, I won’t tell Father.”
“I don’t understand it myself, sometimes,” Honora admitted. It was true. When she donned the armor, it weighed down upon her, the burden of both the chain mail and the forbidden need to fight.
“I used to think it was our brother’s spirit,” Honora continued. “It’s as though a part of him lives on in me. Is it foolish, wanting to fight as he would have?”
