"We have to wait for him," Honora argued. She peered over the edge of the boat, unable to believe the casual tone in the man's voice. Her heart clamored, for she hadn't once seen Ewan. The thought of him drowning made her want to dive in after him.
"Oh, Ewan can swim a great distance underwater. I wouldn't worry about him." The man casually picked up a crossbow, eyeing the swimming soldiers. "I am Connor MacEgan. You must be the Ardennes heiress."
Honora didn't know quite how to respond. It wasn't as if she could introduce herself as the woman who'd destroyed Ewan's chances of marrying her sister.
"I am the daughter of Nicholas de Montford, Lord of Ardennes. Widow of the Baron of Ceredys," she hedged. "Honora St. Leger is my name."
Connor flashed a crooked smile. "He spoke of you when he returned to Éireann after his fostering."
Did he? It fired her curiosity, wondering what Ewan had said. But Connor ceased the conversation to aim at one of the soldiers swimming toward the boat. He fired his crossbow, and the bolt struck true. The soldier floated a moment upon the sea before the body began to sink.
Connor reloaded the weapon, nodding toward the waves. "There's our Ewan. Look." She followed his gaze and saw a dark head bobbing in the water, not far away.
Honora held her breath while Connor kept firing the crossbow, taking out one man after the next. When only four men remained on the beach, she saw John fall into a retreat. Silently, she sent up a prayer of thanks. "Did Bevan send you here?" she asked.
Connor nodded. "Ewan has a knack for trouble." With a glance toward the beach, he added, "As you can see."
A few moments later, Connor lowered his oar into the water. Ewan grabbed on and his brother helped him into the boat, seawater sloshing inside the vessel.
With a cocky grin, Connor asked, "I see you've made a good impression with the Normans."
Ewan did not appear amused. "Set the course, Connor."
Honora studied the bottom of the boat, well aware of Ewan's furious gaze. Connor tossed her his cloak, and she huddled beneath it, her soaked clothing making her teeth chatter. "Do you want to share the cloak?" she offered Ewan.
His gaze was hardened with unspoken chastisement. "No."
He turned to Connor. "I never thought I'd say this, but I am glad you came when you did."
"When you've warmed up a bit, you can tell me about it." Connor glanced over at Honora. "Now if a lovelycailínasked me to share her cloak, I doubt if I'd be clutching my pride and shivering."
"Close your ears, my brother. I've words to say to Honora."
To her embarrassment, Connor moved toward the front of the vessel, feigning interest in one of the sails. He would hear every word, she knew.
Honora pulled the edges of the cloak around her. "Perhaps sharing this with you would not be such a wise idea."
"You could have been killed," Ewan ground out. "Running out into the open like that? One arrow, and you'd have been dead."
Fury tightened his jaw, and his eyes blazed. "I've never seen something so foolhardy and dangerous in all my life. You were supposed to wait for me to make the first move."
"While you gave yourself up to become a captive?" His accusations ignited her own temper. "Do you think John would have let you live? He'd have killed you at the first opportunity." She tossed the cloak at him, ignoring Connor's amused expression. "I saved us both by what I did. And I won't regret it."
"How can you think your actions made any sense at all?"
"Because John doesn't want me dead. He wants me alive because he believes I know about his damned treasure."
And so he can control me, she thought angrily. Just as Ewan was trying to do now.
"I make my own decisions," she snapped. "And that was a good one, I'd say."
"She's right," Connor offered. "She did an excellent job distracting them so you could make your own escape." He reached up, grasping one of the ropes, and Ewan helped him adjust the sail. Honora retrieved the fallen cloak, wrapping her freezing body inside the warmth. If he wasn't going to wear it, then she would.
Connor tied off the sail and added, "Shouting at a woman isn't the wisest idea, Ewan. Best to kiss her and tell her you're sorry."
"Don't you dare." She wasn't interested in false flattery, nor meaningless apologies.
Ewan moved toward her, and were it possible to get away, she would have. As it was, she was trapped at the bow of the boat. "You left our belongings behind."
