“Recruit help from among my tribesmen,” he suggested. “They are trustworthy, and you may be able to coax my brother Patrick, the King of Laochre, into helping you.”
Honora expelled a sigh. “I suppose I’ll try. I’ve nowhere else to go.” She turned toward the fire, and he moved beside her, drawing her back against his chest.
“You’re not alone, Honora.” With her hair at his lips, her body leaning upon his, every sense went on alert. The soft strands smelled lightly of flowers, and his hands encircled her waist.
In silent answer, she held fast to his arms, squeezing lightly. For the first time, she wasn’t fighting herself or pushing him away. Instead, she returned the embrace, resting her head beneath his chin. It startled him that it would feel this good to hold a woman.
“What about you?” she asked. “Will you find another heiress to wed?” Though her tone remained even, he felt her posture shift, as though she were afraid of his answer.
It was a question he hadn’t been able to face. After everything that had happened, it now seemed dishonorable to wed a woman for her lands, though it was the reason for most marriages.
“I don’t know,” was all he said. “I’ll make that decision after I return home.” Too much had changed. The plans he had made now seemed unrealistic, a fool’s dreams. And still, he was unwilling to surrender them yet.
“Any woman would be fortunate to wed you,” Honora said softly. She turned to face him, and he saw the flush of embarrassment on her cheeks. As though she’d said too much.
“I don’t want to think about what lies in the future,” he admitted. “I’d rather just be with you now.”
“As friends,” she murmured, her palms resting on his shoulders.
“No, Honora.” He rose onto his knees, his hands sliding into her hair. “Not friends.” He ravaged her mouth, kissing her in such a way that she would know exactly what he wanted. She shivered in his arms but didn’t pull away. “I can think of no better way to spend this night than to make you cry out with pleasure.”
She looked stunned, her mouth parting. Her green eyes filled with uncertainty and a trace of fear. “Ewan . . . I feel like we’re starting over again, as strangers.”
“We’re not strangers, Honora.” He palmed her shoulder, sliding his hand down her arm. “We’re going to be lovers.”
His body went rigid, and he drew her hips close, palming her bottom. “I want to watch you fall apart. Again . . . and again.”
She rested her forehead against his chest, and he heard her shuddering sigh. “I’m not . . . good at it.”
“Good at what?” He forced her to look at him, and her cheeks were fiery red with humiliation.
“Being with a man. I was a disappointment to my husband.”
Behind the hurt words, he saw her fear. She’d been misused, and the scars of her marriage had not healed.
Though he could easily let her alone, allowing her to sleep apart from him, he didn’t want her believing the lies spoken by Ranulf. “If you were disappointed in your marriage bed, it was the fault of your husband. Not you.”
He held her again, stroking her spine with reassurance. It didn’t appear to have any effect, for she could not relax in his arms.
“I hated it,” she admitted.
She was like a terrified bird, poised to fly from his arms. Though it was a physical torment, Ewan loosened his embrace, stepping back. If he pushed her too much now, she would fear him. “Trust me when I say, I would never do anything to hurt you. If you don’t want me to touch you, I’ll leave you alone.”
He led her over to the pallet he’d set up earlier, fighting to keep out the pain of his arousal. Gods above, this was going to be a miserable night. “Sleep, now, and gather your strength for the morrow.”
She studied him for a moment, as if making a decision. At last, she removed her bliaud, wearing only her shift. She laid down upon the pallet, while he kept his gaze upon the fire, trying not to look at her tightly molded form.
“Aren’t you going to sleep beside me?” Honora asked. “I know you must be tired from your journey.”
He was, but he didn’t trust himself to be so close and not touch her. “I’ll keep watch over you.”
Above them, the night sky glimmered with stars. The moon shed a gleaming light over the clearing, spilling over her skin like silver. Honora turned to her side, her dark hair resting upon one shoulder.
“Ewan,” she whispered. He glanced back at her, then wished he hadn’t. The linen shift did little to hide her body, revealing the plump curve of her breasts, the swell of her hips. “I’m afraid.”
“Don’t be. John and his men won’t find us. By the morning, we’ll be gone.”
Honora shook her head slowly. “I wasn’t speaking of John.” She sat up again, her hands resting in her lap. “I’m afraid I wouldn’t please you if we became . . . more than friends.”
