Honora swallowed, not facing her father. The idea of bearing a child terrified her. She hadn’t made a good wife; why would she expect to be a good mother?
Her father didn’t seem to notice her silence. “No, I believe it is God’s will, Honora. I chose poorly for your first husband. For the second, I’ll allow you to choose. You may select first from among the suitors here.”
“But those men are here for Katherine!” she protested. Did he expect them to simply change their minds? It would never happen. She knew what she was. A woman who was far too impulsive, too impatient to be a wife. She didn’t care about the household accounts or about mending clothing. Her interests lay in the castle defenses and whether or not the men were well trained.
Her hands reached around her waist, as though holding back herself. Asking her to wed again meant facing that humiliation once more, of being an unworthy wife.
“I won’t do it,” she said softly.
Nicholas sighed, refilling his tankard with ale. “All you need is a real man in your bed and a babe swelling beneath your skirts. Then you’ll be happy.”
A real man in her bed? Was he serious? She ground her teeth, longing to tell him just how she felt about that. What did her father know about choosing the right man for her? Nothing at all. He’d married her off to the first man who’d asked. Her stomach soured at the memory of the disastrous marriage.
“You cannot force me to marry.”
“No, but I can force you to return to Ceredys.” Nicholas drained his cup, confident in his decision. “You are of little use to me here. You’ve an estate of your own to manage.”
She didn’t argue that she’d never been allowed to manage any part of Ceredys. She’d been more of a prisoner than a wife.
“But I am not without a heart, Honora,” her father went on. “If you have your eye upon someone, I can arrange your marriage sooner than Katherine’s. Ewan MacEgan, perhaps?” A smug look crossed Nicholas’s face.
“Never.” The denial ripped from her mouth without a second’s hesitation. Ewan was here for Katherine. He didn’t even like her, not after all she’d done to him while they were fostered together. “As I told you, I didn’t mean to be in his room. It was an accident.”
“Hmm.” Her father did not appear convinced. “Well, there are seven other men, all of them from noble families.”
He truly wasn’t listening to her, was he? She tried another tack. “Even if I did agree to remarry, my inheritance complicates matters. A new husband would have to dwell alongside John, else he’d have to surrender the land entirely.”
And she’d rather die than live with John St. Leger again.
“True enough. But that’s the way of marriage, isn’t it? I married your mother for her estates here and in Normandy.”
“I married once for duty. I won’t do it again.” Honora set her mouth in a firm line.
Her father’s face darkened, and he puffed up with his own obstinacy. “Aye, you will. For I’ll not let Katherine wed until you do.”
Had he struck her in the throat, she could not have been more stunned. Why would he do this? What could he hope to gain from it?
“That isn’t fair to her.” She spoke quietly, feigning the gentle quality he preferred. But inwardly, she was raging.
“I am hosting a feast on the morrow,” her father commented. “I expect you to be there. There will be a tournament, and the suitors will compete for your entertainment.”
Oh,Jesu,not that. She had no desire to look like a fool while the suitors fawned over her sister. Was she was supposed to sit beside Katherine on a dais, hoping that a man would ask for her favor? Perhaps one man would show pity.
She had her pride. No, it mattered not what her father wanted. She’d not suffer through such a humiliation.
But Nicholas read her thoughts. “If you do not come, I will have you dragged out of your chamber and brought forth.”
He meant it, too. She gripped her skirts, wanting to rend the fabric out of frustration. “Yes, Father.”
She stood, intending to leave, but he added one more warning: “Behave yourself, Honora.”
Honorahadnoappetitefor breaking her fast, no matter that the rest of the guests were partaking of the delicious array of foods. She strode through the Hall, trying to ignore the men enjoying their meal.
Her father’s vow made it impossible not to notice them. Most were younger and all wealthy.
Well, all, save one. Her gaze flickered upon Ewan MacEgan. His blond hair was slightly tousled, as though he’d raked his hand through it. From the way his sleeve tightened against his upper arm . . . Holy Virgin, there was no denying his strength.
Ewan reached for an apple, adding it to the food he’d already selected to break his fast. Honeyed cakes, bread, braised lamb, and fresh salmon were piled high before him.
