After Ademar had haltingly finished explaining, Katherine stared at him. “You’ve gone mad.”
There was a stubborn glint in his eye that suggested he didn’t agree. “It will work.”
“It won’t. She’ll be hurt, and then she won’t be able to—”
Her throat grew tight, but Ademar prompted gently, “Won’t be able to do what?”
“Catch up to Ewan,” she finished. “He was leaving at dawn. I told her to go with him.”
Ademar hefted the rope over one shoulder. “Did you?” His voice was soft, holding a hint of curiosity.
“He loves her. The way he doesn’t love me.” The words were full of self-pity, but she couldn’t stop herself.
Ademar stared at her, and in his blue eyes, she saw a hunger. A shiver ripped through her as though he had physically touched her. “Then he’s a fool, isn’t he?”
She couldn’t tear her gaze away from him, and just as before, she found herself responding to him. Confusion warred with her purpose, and her fingers closed over the edge of the chest.
“Do you really think you can get her out of the chamber?” she asked. “It’s a great risk.”
He nodded. “She’ll h-have time to catch up to Ewan on horseback.” Seeming to read the doubts on her face, he added, “Trust me. And John will . . . face the penalty when your father arrives.”
Katherine used both arms to lift the armor, straining under its weight. “Take this to my sister. She can use it to disguise herself and get out of the castle.”
Sir Ademar accepted the chainmail but caught her by the nape. His fingers slipped beneath her veil and into her hair. Leaning down, he kissed her lightly. “Wait for me here.”
The brief touch of his lips wasn’t enough. Katherine wanted to taste more of him, to lose herself in his kiss and feel his hard body pressing against hers.
When Ademar left, her mind imagined all the things that could go wrong. And though it might not be wise, she waited a brief moment and then followed him.
Asinglesoldierremainedinside the chamber while another stood just outside the door. Honora forced herself to behave like her sister, quiet and demure. It would be easier to catch the guard by surprise, when the time came to make her move.
Whether hours or minutes passed, she couldn’t be sure. The chamber remained darkened since the guard had closed the shutters. Jesu, she wished the battlements were closer. The window was wide enough to crawl through, and it was possible to reach the stone walkway if she took a strong leap. But a misstep would cause her death. It was too great of a risk.
Her guard seemed less interested in her as time passed. She had not spoken once to him or behaved as though she were a threat. Luring him into complacency was critical to her escape.
The broken grip of her knife lay upon the ground at her feet. Although it was made of metal, it was ineffective as a weapon. She didn’t know why, but she tucked the grip into the girdle about her waist. It was familiar, it was hers, and perhaps a new blade could be added one day.
She stared at the contents of the chamber once more. There was only the chair, the bed, and the gowns she’d taken with her. And though she’d prefer to use the chair as a weapon, the guard was seated on it. Not a good choice.
But there was another possibility. She considered the options, weighing them over in her mind.
When she heard a faint noise approaching, a creaking sound, she tensed. Time to do something instead of waiting for John to return.
“I am cold,” she murmured to the guard. “Might I put on another gown?”
He hesitated, but could find no reason to deny the request. With a shrug, he tossed her the bundle of clothes. Honora unwrapped it, sorting through the garments until she chose a linen underdress.
He was still watching her.
“Turn your back, please,” she begged. “You’ve no need to watch me dress.”
She was startled when he obeyed. Fumbling with the clothes, she made it sound as though she were getting dressed while she drew closer to him. Gripping the fabric tightly with both hands, she sprang forward and wrapped the garment around the guard’s throat. Twisting it tight, she suffocated him, praying that he would soon lose consciousness. She didn’t want him dead; only weakened.
When he slumped to the floor, she threw open the shutters. To her shock, a thick rope hung down. Glancing outside, she saw Sir Ademar moving toward the open window.
“What are you doing?” she whispered.
He swung himself inside the chamber. “Your sister told me what . . . happened. She thought you might need help.”
