Her consummate faith was a harsh blow to Ewan’s conscience. He didn’t deserve her trust, not after what he’d done. But neither did he want Honora to be alone and vulnerable to attack.
The silvery reflection of the river glinted in the distance, and he slowed his horse. Honora was standing beside her mount, looking into the distance.
Her blue bliaud was rumpled, her veil askew upon her head. In her left hand, she held a sword, moving through a few practice swings. Her slender form moved with grace, the sword a natural extension of her arm.
Like the blade, she held a power of her own, cool and deadly. And despite the face she put on before others, he’d seen beneath her steel façade.
Instinct warned him to stay away from Honora, despite his promise to her sister. Something had shifted between them, and it unsettled him. He’d come here planning to wed Lady Katherine. She held the key to everything he wanted, land of his own and a wife at his side.
And yet, he found himself daydreaming of Honora. Even last night, he’d awoken in a cool sweat, his body deeply aroused. He’d imagined her naked body twined around his, her warm skin beside him. He wanted to watch her face shift into ecstasy when he pleasured her. To taste her, to make her scream his name when he filled her body with his own flesh.
He wanted her more than anything he’d ever wanted in his life. And it had become a fierce torment, knowing that he would never have her.
Marriages were meant for alliances and increasing wealth, not personal desires. He couldn’t give up the ambitions he’d dreamed of his entire life for one woman. It wasn’t fair to Honora either, for he had nothing to offer her in return.
The light gleamed against her sword before she sheathed it once more. Honora rested her face against the horse’s saddle, her shoulders slumped. She gripped her right wrist, as though she was fighting back against the pain.
Ewan couldn’t stay behind any longer. He brought his horse closer, knowing he was intruding upon a private moment.
“I know you’re there,” Honora called out. “Katherine sent you, didn’t she?”
Ewan gave no answer, but tethered his horse at a nearby tree. She turned to face him, her expression guarded. “What is it you want?”
“Your sister told me what happened. And that you came here alone.”
“I’ve a right to be alone, if I wish.” She kept her attention upon her horse, patting the mare’s flanks. “Especially if I need to train.”
“No. You’re not going to fight Ceredys again.”
Trouble brewed in her eyes, and she sent him a furious glare. “You aren’t my master, MacEgan. Ceredys will meet my blade. I won’t be his victim again.”
“You’re right,” he said softly. “Because he will meet my blade. And when I’m finished with him, Ceredys won’t touch a woman ever again.”
To underscore his point, he lifted up her right wrist to study it. The skin surrounding her wrist was scarlet and starting to bruise. Gently, he touched the injury, his fingertips lightly skimming the surface.
“Tell me what happened.”
Honora looked uneasy. “John cornered me, and I cut him with my dagger to escape. He grabbed my wrist and nearly broke it.”
She explained the rest, but Ewan hardly heard a word of it. He was going to tear Ceredys apart the next time he set eyes upon the man. “I don’t want you near him again. Stay close to your father, if need be.”
“I don’t have a choice, Ewan.” She shifted her gaze back to the river. “If I return to Ceredys, I cannot avoid him.”
“You can’t even think of going back to live with a man like Ceredys.” Rigid anger tightened in his fists. “It isn’t safe.”
“If someone threatened your tribesmen, you would go back to defend them, regardless of the danger.” She unsheathed her sword with her left hand. “There’s no one else to protect the people from John. It is my duty.”
“You haven’t the means.”
“No, but I’ll find a way.”
She unsheathed her blade with her left hand, lunging with the blade against an invisible enemy. Her motions were charged with anger, as though she raged against her own weakness.
Ewan withdrew his own weapon, watching her. Though she poured her efforts into it, her fighting skills were noticeably weaker with her left hand.
Honora stopped for a moment, her sides heaving with exertion. “My father wants me to wed a man with an army. Perhaps I should.”
Jealousy blasted through him, though he knew it was unreasonable. A husband would help Honora appeal to the king on behalf of her people. He could also ensure her safety.
