“I’m not the boy I was, Honora.” He kept her pinioned, and tossed the knife away. “You won’t defeat me in a fight. Not anymore.”
Her face flushed. Apparently, he hadn’t forgotten how she’d bested him. More than once she’d disarmed him with a blade, her fighting skills equal to his. But that was long ago.
“Let me up.” She tried to sit, and Ewan rolled off her. He sat beside her on the floor, seemingly at ease.
She tried to straighten her clothing, regaining her composure. “Why are you here?”
“I’m going to wed your sister.”
She bit back the argument that he was but one man among many. Her father hadn’t settled the betrothal yet, nor would he, until he had taken each man’s measure.
“I’m sorry I kissed you,” he said. “I mistook you for Katherine.”
His apology only heated up her temper. Honora knew she wasn’t as comely as her sister, but she didn’t need to be reminded of it. “Katherine would never enter a stranger’s bedchambers.”
“Unlike you.” There was a hint of humor beneath his tone, but she didn’t acknowledge the teasing. It made her feel insulted, and she regretted her impulsive behavior.
The door opened, and Honora jerked to her feet. Oh heaven. Another angry MacEgan brother was staring at her.
“Am I interrupting something?” He glanced at Ewan, who didn’t seem at all embarrassed to be naked with a woman beside him.
“Honora was just leaving.” Ewan gestured toward the door, and she took the invitation gratefully. She didn’t even bother about the dagger, so thankful was she to flee their presence.
Bevanclosedthedoorbehind Honora, setting a torch within an iron sconce. Ewan didn’t miss the questioning look upon his brother’s face. “Wrong chamber,” was his only offer of explanation.
His brother didn’t believe a word of it and waited for him to elaborate. Frankly, Ewan didn’t feel like it. He’d been awakened by the sound of Honora’s intrusion and hadn’t at all expected to find a woman in his chamber.
His uneasiness escalated, for he’d acted on impulse, kissing her. At first, he’d tricked himself into thinking Katherine had come to see him. Fool. Katherine was shy and demure, not nearly as brazen as her sister.
Honora. He rested his fingertips against his mouth, thinking of the kiss he’d stolen. The taste of her lingered, soft and sweet. Completely unlike the stubborn girl who had plagued him so many years ago.
“Her father won’t be pleased,” Bevan said. “I drank nearly half a barrel of ale with him this night, pleading your case.” He grimaced at the late hour, running a hand through his hair. “You’d best ensure that he doesn’t find out about this. I doubt if he’ll let you wed his youngest daughter if you were dallying with her sister.”
“Honora broke into my chamber.” Ewan returned to his pallet, flipping the woolen coverlet over himself. “It wasn’t my fault.”
“What was she doing?”
“Looking for something.” He shrugged, as though it were of no importance. Though now that he considered it, he wondered precisely what she had sought. “What else did her father say?”
“He will consider your suit. Thomas de Renalt also spoke with him and offered his approval of the match.”
Ewan’s tension eased a bit at the mention of his foster father. “Good.”
Sinking back onto his pallet, he stared at the ceiling while Bevan retreated to his own sleeping place. The torch flickered shadows onto the walls, while all around, he heard the noise of other guests. In the distance, a dog barked, its cries mingling with the sounds of night.
Honora’s hair had been short, barely touching her shoulders. Ragged and silky, he hadn’t expected that. He was accustomed to seeing her with a veil. The intimacy of her bare head reminded him of how he’d kissed her, winding his fingers through the softness.
Her hair was the color of a midnight sky, her skin milky pale. Large, full lips had kissed him back, and she’d tasted like apples, succulent with a hint of sweetness. Her arms were not the soft skin of most women, but they held a lean strength. So often, she’d tried to best him, when they were fostered together. She’d won, more times than he wanted to remember.
Not anymore.
He shifted upon the bed coverings, trying to force his thoughts back to Katherine as he drifted off to sleep. Even so, he couldn’t forget Honora’s kiss.
Chapter Two
“Youwereseenleavingthe MacEgan bedchamber last night.” Nicholas de Montford, the Earl of Ardennes, set his goblet firmly upon the table in his private chamber. He folded his hands, the morning sunlight reflecting on his gold rings.
Honora’s cheeks burned, and she fumbled for an excuse. “It was a mistake. I was merely trying to find—“
