Ewan misunderstood and sat up, pulling her into his arms. “Hush,a stór. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.”
She clung to him, unable to close off the memories. “I can’t. I never should have come here with you.”
He laced his fingers with hers. “I would die before hurting you,a ghrá.”
“I have to go.” She straightened her clothing and stood. Without looking back, she fled to her chamber.
EwanfollowedHonorasilently.This time he wanted to be sure that no one bothered her.
He kept far enough away that she wouldn’t see him but close enough to shadow her. He didn’t regret what he’d done to John of Ceredys. Not at all. He only wished he’d arrived sooner.
He could have easily killed the man. Not only for seeing the bastard gripping her wrist, but for the other times John had hurt her. The primal urge to protect Honora drove out all sense of reason.
It was only at her insistence that he’d stopped. And no doubt there would be consequences. He didn’t care. Honora’s father might be angry, but he wouldn’t condone any threats toward his daughter.
Were it not so late, Ewan would confront Ardennes now. The earl needed to understand the danger Honora faced from Ceredys and ensure that she never returned. It meant giving up her dower portion of the land, but there was no alternative.
As Honora continued up the winding stairs, he watched until she disappeared from view behind her chamber door. Ewan waited several moments, to be sure she was safe.
He stood at the bottom of the stairs for some time, needing a distraction. Anything to take his mind off the restlessness filling up inside, along with the physical frustration.
Ewan wandered down to the kitchens and coaxed a sleepy-eyed serving wench into bringing him an assortment of bread, cheese, and leftover beef from the previous meal, along with a pot of ale. He found a corner in the Hall amid the sleeping soldiers and suitors, and dug into the food. Though it satisfied his hunger, it didn’t assuage his discontent.
He’d gone too far this night. It hadn’t been intentional, but he’d been caught up with need for Honora. His body craved hers even now, chafing with an unfulfilled aching. He’d frightened her without meaning to, but she’d driven him past reason.
He’d listened to his carnal desires instead of his head, and now he’d lost everything—not only the land, but also his friendship with Honora. With the way he’d behaved this night, it was no wonder she’d fled from him.
And now he would have to leave Ardennes. There was no reason to remain here, especially not after he’d led Honora’s sister astray. No longer could he take Katherine as his wife. And the idea of wedding a different heiress soured his mood.
Better to build his kingdom on his own, without a marriage dowry to secure the lands. He’d have to hire out his sword, the way Bevan and Connor had, to earn the funds. But it would take years.
A hollow feeling spread throughout body, coupled with the sense of loss. He didn’t want to leave Honora behind, but what other choice was there? He had nothing to offer her. Best for her to remain under her father’s protection.
He stood, exhaustion suddenly coming down upon him. It was only a few hours before dawn, but he doubted if he’d find any sleep this night. Footsteps resounded in the stillness, and a shadow crossed over him.
When he looked up, he stared into the face of Nicholas de Montford. Two soldiers stood at his side, dressed in chain mail armor and conical helms.
“Take him,” the earl ordered.
Honoradidn’tseeEwanall morning. With each hour that passed, her anxiety doubled. The entire castle was buzzing about John of Ceredys. According to the healer, Ewan had broken his nose and John’s face was badly bruised. Anyone who looked upon him would know what Ewan had done.
“Lady Honora,” a voice interrupted. “May I s-speak with . . . with you?”
It was Sir Ademar. The knight offered a tentative smile, as if he could hardly believe she’d agreed to wed him. Oh, Jesu. She’d completely forgotten about her impulsive offer.
“Of course,” she responded.
Ademar bent down to atone for his exceptional height. Dark blue eyes warmed to look at her, but she saw the struggle as he tried to speak clearly. “You s-surprised me last eventide when you . . . chose me.” He offered her his arm, and she took it, her mood plummeting even further.
“I should have spoken to you first,” she admitted.
It wasn’t fair. He didn’t deserve to be used like this. She couldn’t go through with a deception like this, not when there were alternatives.
Honora took him by the hand and led him to a quieter part of the inner bailey. “Sir Ademar, forgive me. I haven’t been honest with you.”
His handsome face stiffened, as if he suspected what she was about to say. She took a deep breath. As if that would make it any easier. As if she could somehow go back and undo the mistakes she’d made.
His expression grew tighter. “You don’t intend . . . to wed me, do you?”
