“It is.” Katherine folded her hands in her lap. “I fear for you, Honora. You could be killed, if you don’t cease this. You haven’t the strength of the other men.”
Normally, she would have argued with her sister, for she had won numerous matches. But both she and Ewan were right. Today had been different, for she’d allowed her concentration to slip. Her fear of John had dominated the fight.
Katherine’s arms slipped around her in an embrace. Honora hugged her back. “I didn’t mean to worry you.”
“Just stop,” Katherine pleaded. “You have nothing more to prove.”
Only to myself, Honora thought, but did not say it. When they broke apart, Katherine passed her a veil to hide her hair. Honora donned it while her sister adjusted her own appearance, studying herself in a mirror of polished steel.
“I think I’m going to wed Ewan,” Katherine confessed.
Honora squeezed the pommel of her knife so tightly, she wondered it didn’t break off. “Really?” Anger thrust through her mind, coupled with a touch of fear.
Katherine spun around, hugging her waist. Her cheeks burned with hope. “I—I think I could learn to love him, Honora. He is the right choice for me. I’m going to speak to Father tonight.”
Honora tried to manage a smile, but could not. Hurt caught up in her throat, but she quelled it. “Are you certain?” The words tumbled out of her mouth, as though she were trying to change Katherine’s mind. “There are other men who might suit you better.”
“None so handsome as him.” Katherine adjusted her hair, tucking the long braid behind the veil.
Honora ceased her arguments, for what was the point? Ewan deserved a wife like Katherine. Gentle and industrious, her sister would make him happy.
She wouldn’t allow this cold feeling to spread and grow within her. She had no claim upon Ewan, even if his kiss still tingled upon her mouth. What she had done to Katherine was wrong. Unforgivably so. The guilt made it hard to face her sister, and she despised herself.
“I wish you well with him.” Honora squeezed her sister’s hand, praying Katherine would never learn of the betrayal.
“What about you?” Katherine asked. “Is there a man whom you wish to wed? Sir Ademar, perhaps?”
There was a curious flush to Katherine’s face, but Honora reassured her, “Don’t trouble yourself on my account.” She had no intention of marrying anyone. “I’ll see to it that you get the man you want.”
She crossed the room to stare outside the window. This awful feeling inside was guilt, nothing more. Ewan was her friend, and they had agreed not to let anything happen again. She trusted him to keep that vow.
There was no other choice.
JohnSt.Legersatacross from Nicholas of Ardennes. Although they held a kinship tie through Honora, the younger baron envied Nicholas. The fine castle, with nearly all the wood converted into stone, was far superior to his own inheritance.
He wanted more. He coveted the gleaming gold, the comfortable scents of good food and ale. The castle left to him by his father was debt-ridden, a crumbling fortress with not nearly enough funds to let him live in the style he wished.
He blamed the women. His grandmother, Marie St. Leger, had known where the family’s treasure was hidden. Jewels and gold, spoils from a Viking raid, had kept the estate in fine form while his grandfather was alive. There was supposed to be more, but only Marie knew where it was hidden.
And now she was dead, damn her. He’d done everything to get the information out of her, but even with her dying breath, the bitch had refused to tell him.
Now Marie’s ruby had gone missing. It rightfully belonged to him, along with the rest of the treasure. He suspected Honora had stolen the gemstone, and it was possible Marie had given her the secrets of the treasure. He’d seen them together too often.
He’d never met any woman like Honora. Powerful, bold, and defiant. His groin ached, just thinking of her. Even when she’d threatened him with her knife, he could not deny the way she aroused him. She should have married him, not his father. Ranulf had stolen her, and John he had every intention of getting her back.
Not as a bride, but as a lover perhaps. He wanted to taste that fine skin, to subdue her flesh beneath his. He wanted her to fight him, for he’d enjoy punishing her. And then, after he’d broken her, he would force her to confess the location of the ruby and the treasure.
But first, he had to bring her back to Ceredys. And that meant gaining the support of her father.
“Lady Honora has been gone for some time,” John began, sipping his ale as though it were a casual matter. “Has she been well?”
Nicholas shrugged. “Well enough, I suppose. Though she’s neglecting her responsibilities at Ceredys.”
And the little thief had taken what belonged to him. But John took pains to keep his expression calm. “I’ve come to ask her to return. The people miss their lady.”
“She will, soon enough.” Nicholas steepled his hands upon the wooden table.
His gaze was dark, and John wondered what Honora had revealed about her sudden departure. “I understand you are pressuring Honora to remarry.”
