At last, he stopped. “Look there.”
Praise be, she saw the cave. She was so tired, she was beyond caring if it was a suitable shelter. If it were large enough, they might be able to build a fire. Her skin was so cold, her teeth chattered.
They stepped across the rocks, still keeping their feet from the sand. Once they reached the entrance, Ewan pressed his back against the stone wall, listening. The pungent sea air filled the interior, and she wrinkled her nose.
“Can we build a fire?” she whispered.
He set down the pack of supplies. “I think so. The cave is deep enough that we can keep the light hidden. And it’s too dark for them to see the smoke. Stay here while I gather some driftwood.”
“Be careful.” She stopped him and brought his mouth to hers in a light kiss. He deepened it, filling his hands with her hair.
“I won’t let anything happen to you, Honora.”
“I know it.” But even as he left her, the cold darkness seemed to fall over her like a forbidding cloak. She prayed to God that somehow, they would find an escape.
Ewandroppedaloadof wood inside the cave, reaching into the pack of supplies for flint. It took a while to get the fire started, but eventually the small space grew warmer. Faint cracks in the ceiling of the high cave kept the smoke from getting too thick.
Honora sat as close to the fire as she dared, her feet bare, her wet shoes discarded. She looked soft and vulnerable. Nothing like the fighter he knew she was.
Though his feet burned from the distance he’d run, he’d not let her see the exhaustion. He wanted to take care of her, to ensure her safety. Never would he let anyone harm her, especially not John.
He saw her guarding her wrist, flexing it gently. “How is your wrist?”
“It’s still bruised. But it isn’t broken or sprained, thanks be.” She moved it to show him, and added, “I can fight if I have to.”
There would be no need for her to risk it—not if they remained hidden. And with darkness to shield them, John’s men would not venture toward the rocks.
“You won’t have to fight,” he promised.
Honora opened the supplies and pulled out the flask of wine and a half-stale loaf of bread. He sat beside her, waiting for her to eat. But she didn’t. Instead, she set the food beside her on a stone and opened her arms to him. “Come here.”
He didn’t understand what she wanted. But given a choice between food and Honora, there was no question which he preferred more. When he tried to hold her, she shifted so that her back was to the wall of the cave. She made him lean back in her arms, his back resting against her soft breasts while her thighs were spread on either side of him.
“You’re weary,” she said. “And it’s my turn to take care of you.” She broke off a piece of the bread and fed it to him. He barely tasted the meager food, though he was famished. They hadn’t eaten since that morn, and under normal circumstances, he’d dive at the food.
But it was far more distracting to see her shapely legs emerging from the hem of her gown. He accepted another bite of bread, raising the edge of the bliaud a little higher with his palm.
Now that they were alone once more, his awareness of her deepened. He rested his hand upon her bare knee, letting her know of his interest.
After they’d finished sharing the bread, Honora reached up to his tunic, unlacing it. He didn’t know what her intentions were, but so long as she was removing clothing, he didn’t particularly care.
Her hands sank into his shoulders, kneading his tired muscles. The sensation of her fingers touching him was exquisite, and he closed his eyes, hardly daring to breathe.
“Honora,” he said softly. “You’re quite good at this.” He didn’t know how in the world she could ever believe her touch wouldn’t please him.
She caressed his nape, her fingers sliding through his hair, easing the ache at the base of his neck. Though her touch wasn’t meant to arouse him, it was stoking a fire he yearned to quench.
“You’re tense,” she whispered. “Relax and let me care for you.”
Relax? As her palms glided over his skin, he fought a hiss as she caressed his spine. To distract himself, he rested his palms on both of her knees, leaning back against her. Then he slid his hands beneath her gown, stroking her thighs.
But when she kissed his shoulder, he’d had enough. “Stop,” he gritted out.
“Stop what? I only meant to ease you.”
He turned to face her. Pulling her waist toward him, he set her upon his lap so she could feel the hard length of him straining at his trews. Her mouth opened in shock as he took her hips in his hands.
“There’s only one way you can ease me, Honora. And if you don’t stop touching me, I’m going to take you right here.”
