“Suggesting, yes.” Lord Ardennes looked displeased at John’s choice of words. “She has no children and was widowed at a young age.”
“Most would not wish her to remarry. It would be a sin for a man to succumb to the temptation of a widow. The Church does not condone it.”
“The Church can be convinced of anything, so long as their coffers are kept full.” Lord Ardennes frowned. “I believe it would be in Honora’s best interests. Sir Ademar has already offered for her.” The earl refilled his own goblet, but did not grant John the same courtesy.
John pretended not to notice the slight, but it was an invisible slice upon his pride. The quality of the drink far surpassed the ale at Ceredys, and he blamed Honora for it. Was it not her responsibility to oversee the brewers?
His frustration mounted higher. She needed to return, to assume her responsibilities and see to it that the estate was put to rights. For several months, she had shirked the needs of Ceredys. It would stop. She could no longer avoid her role as Lady, and if that meant convincing Lord Ardennes that he would deny any marriage offers, so be it.
“We both want what is best for Lady Honora,” John admitted. He had to tread carefully. Lord Ardennes would not take well to threats. “And though Sir Ademar may have offered, we must decide whether or not the match would be in her best interests.”
Ardennes reached out for a fig, drenched in honey. John had never tasted such a delicacy, but he’d not lower himself to ask the earl for such favors.
“True.” Honora’s father ate the fig, tasting the honey at his fingertips. “I almost considered Ewan MacEgan for her. There seemed to be an interest, but she denied it. He has voiced his interest in Katherine, instead.”
“The Irishman has virtually no property. I am surprised you would consider him at all.”
“I had a conversation with his older brother, Bevan MacEgan, not long ago,” Ardennes remarked. “It seems that the King of Laochre has offered a gift on Ewan’s behalf, a bride price for whichever daughter Ewan chooses.”
John hid his displeasure, feigning interest. “Gold?”
“Horses,” Ardennes beamed. “Brought over from the Holy Land, I understand. The finest animals one could hope for.”
He hadn’t known about the earl’s weakness for horse flesh, but it was the clear the man was positively gloating over the prospect.
John set his empty goblet aside. “Let MacEgan wed your younger daughter. Honora is needed at Ceredys. Since I have no wife, her presence is sorely missed.”
Ardennes rubbed his chin. “I will suggest it to her once more. But Honora has said to me that she has no wish to return.” His gaze sharpened, and John didn’t care for the sudden threat he sensed.
“My daughter is not, nor has ever been, the cowardly sort,” the earl remarked. “Why would she flee your protection?”
The pointed question held a note of warning, but John would not give Lord Ardennes any cause for concern. With a light smile of apology, he said, “There was a man who held an unwanted interest in Honora. One of my retainers. Once I discovered it, I had the man sent away. She can return without fear of him.”
Ardennes relaxed his shoulders, believing the tale he’d spun. “Good. I am glad you’ve put matters to rights. I would hate to think that you’d allowed anything to happen to my daughter within the safety of her own home.”
John veiled his irritation, but at least Honora had not told her father the true reason for her departure. Her silence made it easier to bring her back again.
“Where is the Lady Honora?” he asked with a smile. “I have not had the opportunity to speak with her at length. She must be wanting to hear the news from Ceredys.”
“She is outside in the gardens, I am told.” The earl waved his hand in dismissal. “You may go and seek her out, if it pleases you.”
“I shall.” John gave a curt nod, itching to see Honora. He would bring her back to Ceredys, where he could look upon her face each morn, watching her move about her tasks.
As he walked toward the gardens, he thought of exactly what he would say to her.
Honorakneltdownbesidea bed of herbs, her fingers wrenching out a weed. If only she could tear out her guilt as easily. The entire morning, Katherine had been chattering about Ewan this and Ewan that. Finally, Honora had made her excuses, needing any form of escape.
She rubbed at her shoulders, for her arms ached after the fight from yesterday. The tender bruise above her breasts was a blatant reminder of her failure.
Her mind crept back to her humiliation the previous afternoon. She wasn’t ready to fight John; that much was clear. But she could learn.
Thinking back on her mistakes, she realized that she’d expected him to fight fairly. John had seized every advantage, using her weaknesses against her. In that moment, she had become his victim, unable to defend herself.
It wouldn’t happen again. If she were to fight against him in combat again, she would win. Even if it meant taking his life.
She sobered at the thought, for she’d never killed anyone. And yet, it was what warriors did when necessary. They protected their people at all costs.
Warriors did not cower at the idea of killing an enemy. And that was what John was. An enemy who was hurting innocent people. As Lady of Ceredys, it fell to her to guard them.
