Before she could step back into her chamber, they seized her arms.
“Katherine!” she yelped, before they closed the door and dragged her off. Honora cursed, fighting to free herself, but one man grasped her wounded wrist. Any motion at all caused a searing pain.
Damn John for this. He had no right to take her captive within her own home.
“Let go of me!” she demanded, but they ignored her, forcing her into another chamber. The soldiers shoved her forward until she hit the stone floor. Her belongings were tossed at her feet.
“Honora.”
She raised her head and saw John seated upon a chair. His face was a mottled blend of black and purple bruises. A dark red split marred his lips, and the expression in his eyes was of a man bent upon vengeance. “I hope you slept well last night in preparation for our journey.”
She made no reply, while she searched for a way out. There were four men in the chamber, along with herself and John. Too many. Her spirits sank, for she would rather die than return to Ceredys.
“Why would you think that you can take me captive within my father’s donjon?” she demanded. “I never agreed to go with you.”
“You are not a captive,” he corrected. “We are merely escorting you home as a courtesy. Your father preferred that we accompany you, so as to keep you from harm.” His words held a trace of irony as he gestured for one of his men to help her to her feet.
“Ceredys is not my home.” Her heartbeat quickened as she struggled to think of a way out of this. “And you cannot force me to go back.”
“Oh, you’ll go willingly,” John said. “For if you don’t, I’ll order my men to attack Ewan MacEgan. He’s on foot, isn’t he? It would be easy enough to send an arrow through his back.” He gentled his tone. “But if you come with me without protest, I’ll let him go.”
She’d sooner trust a spider. But now was not the time to argue. Since it was mid-morning, Ewan would have gone already. Likely, he would travel west, toward the coastline. He’d be out in the open, exposed to any attack.
No, she couldn’t endanger Ewan by protesting. Best to feign surrender, waiting for the right moment to escape.
With defiance, she glared up at him. “I don’t have a choice, do I?”
John smiled. “I’m glad to see you understand. I’ll give the orders for our departure and see that the rest of your belongings are brought.”
He glanced down at her waist, his gaze narrowed at the blade she’d bound to her girdle. “Your dagger is broken. How curious.”
Before she could move away, he ripped the blade free from its binding. The pommel separated, and the ruby clattered onto the floor. Triumph dawned in John’s eyes. “So. You thought to hide it from me.”
“I only discovered it yestereve.”
“Liar. And now, you’re going to tell me where the rest of the treasure is.”
“I don’t know—“
His fist moved toward her face, but Honora threw herself to the ground, dodging the blow. John tossed the dagger grip at her feet, keeping the blade and ruby for himself. A hardened look crossed his face. “Rest assured, I will find the rest of the Ceredys jewels. You will tell me everything I want to know. Or you’ll suffer for it.”
To his men, he ordered, “Guard her while I see to the horses. Let no one except me into this chamber.”
Onehourearlier
Katherine closed her eyes tightly against the morning sun. Last night she’d barely slept at all. She'd done something sinful after wanting to do the most wicked thing she could. She'd found Sir Ademar and had practically thrown herself at him. To her shock, the man had welcomed the embrace.
By the Virgin, the man could kiss. She’d never known it, never expected it. Ewan had kissed her once, and although it had been unexpected and wonderful, it hadn’t shaken her world apart. Not the way Ademar’s kiss had. She hadn’t been driven to do desperate things or cast aside her virtue. For truth be told, she had nearly given the stoic knight everything he’d wanted. Even now, her thoughts had been tangled up with the memory of the way he’d touched her, as though he couldn’t quite believe she was in his arms. She had felt beloved.
The very thought made her skin flush with discomfort. She shifted beneath the sheets, the fabric abrading her skin.
How could she face him later today? Though Ademar had claimed he would say nothing to anyone, she didn’t know if he would stay away from her.
Or if she wanted him to.
What would it be like as his wife? He had earned his knighthood and was an earl’s son, albeit the second-born. Certainly, he had land of his own and modest holdings. An accomplished fighter, he had the strength and means to protect an estate.
Blessed saints above. Why was she even thinking about Ademar in this way? She didn’t know him well enough. And . . . he wasn’t Ewan.
