Oh, she needed to bash her head against the stone wall. Perhaps that would knock some sense into her. She didn’t need a man like him, or any man. Despite her father’s wishes, she would never marry again.
But if she didn’t, Nicholas would force her to leave Ardennes and return to Ceredys. The very thought made her skin turn to ice. She wasn’t ready yet. Nicholas wasn’t about to lend her men against John, and she didn’t have soldiers of her own.
She’d tried to hire mercenaries two moons ago, believing that they could remove John from power and allow her to return to Ceredys. But she’d learned the darker side of soldiers, for they’d stolen her money and done nothing in return. Her naivety had cost her dearly.
No, she needed men of honor. And men of that nature required more coins than she had.
Her father’s suggestion that she wed a man with an army wouldn’t do, either. A new husband would have no interest in going to war against John of Ceredys.
There was no one to help.
A frisson of grief curled over her. Marie St. Leger, John’s grandmother, might have known what to do, had she lived. She had been one of the most intelligent ladies Honora had ever known. Strong-willed and proud, Marie had treated Honora like a daughter. And it was because of Marie that she’d managed to escape at all.
It broke her heart to think of the woman’s death, only a single moon ago. She’d kept her vow to pray for Marie’s soul each night.
Honora blinked back the wetness rising in her eyes. She needed a moment to herself, a chance to think. Perhaps if she rode out from the castle, she’d find a solution for the people of Ceredys.
She walked to the stables and ordered a groom to prepare her palfrey. When the horse was ready, she urged the animal away from the castle grounds. Two guards joined her as escorts, but she ignored them, pretending for a moment that she was alone.
A light spring rain began to fall, misting her cheeks as she rode. The scent of horse and musty earth made her throat tighten. Why did this have to happen? Was God punishing her for her disobedience as a girl? She’d gone against the natural order of things, wanting to be more like a warrior than a woman.
And it was wrong, wasn’t it? Why couldn’t she content herself with womanly things? Why was there such a need inside, to be as strong as a man?
Unwanted tears mingled with the rain. All she’d ever wanted was to please her father. She had worn the silk bliauds and jewels, pretending to be feminine and everything he’d wanted in a daughter. But he’d hardly noticed her. Only when she argued with him did he pay her any heed.
Katherine had never lacked for attention. Their father had given his younger daughter everything she’d ever desired, lavishing her with gifts and affection. And though Honora never admitted it, she envied her sister.
She slowed the horse, letting it stop by the river to drink. Her veil was damp from the rain, the water clinging to her skin. It was her penance, she supposed. She’d come to accept that her father would never love her. Though he would never say it, she knew Nicholas blamed her for the death of her twin brother. The daughter had lived, while the coveted son had died.
In a way, it was why she wanted to fight so badly. She wanted to atone for her brother’s death, to become the warrior he would have been. And perhaps then, her father would find something worthy inside her.
In secret, she’d learned to fight, with Ewan’s help. And now, she watched the men train each day. She borrowed swords from the armory, practicing until her arms burned with exhaustion.
Never once had she shown Nicholas her skill. She was afraid of dishonoring her father, of embarrassing him in front of everyone. How could he ever be proud of a daughter who behaved like a man?
No. He’d hate her even more. And so she’d hidden it from him. For now, she could only use her fighting skills to protect the castle from petty thieves. That is, if she could catch the man.
As the rain intensified, Honora reluctantly turned her horse back to the castle. The ride had helped clear her head, but now she had to decide what to do about her father’s threat.
She could feign acceptance of her father’s wishes, pretending to consider a suitor. Once Katherine was safely wed, she could try to escape the arrangement. The only problem was finding a man willing to go along with her ruse. Honora didn’t like the thought of lying or causing anyone to feel humiliated.
She would have to find the right person. Honesty was best for such an arrangement.
Her hand closed upon the grip of her dagger. And in the meantime, she still had a thief to catch.
Thereweresevenothersuitors. Seven, for the love ofCríost. Ewan stood watching the men, each bringing Katherine a gift. She’d already bestowed smiles upon those who had given her silks and ribbons.
Gerald Elshire, heir to the barony of Beaulais, had brought her an emerald. From the clouded surface of the gemstone, Ewan wondered if it was colored glass.
Not that he could afford gems or silks. Instead, he’d bribed one of the serfs to fetch him a kitten from the village. His brother’s wife Isabel loved her cats, and no doubt Katherine would feel the same. The mewing animal rested within a basket, lightly covered with a cloth.
Katherine sat within the solar, her white veil hiding the length of sable hair. Pearls adorned her sapphire silk bliaud, and the sleeves were fitted tightly to her slender arms, the cuffs draping to the floor. She reminded him of a princess, ethereal and enchanting. Just looking at her made him feel unworthy. She appeared sweet-tempered, beautiful . . . and completely out of his reach.
The idea of invading a man’s bedchamber would horrify the Lady Katherine. A jolt of remembrance shot into his groin at the memory of Honora. He imagined her body would be lean and sleek. Honora would never lie passively upon his bed. She would meet him, thrust for thrust, crying out with pleasure.
Damn. He blinked, forcing the vision away. He didn’t care anything for Honora. The brief kiss he’d stolen had been a mistake. Nothing of any importance to either of them.
He tried to envision kissing Katherine. Her kiss would be as gentle as her spirit. When she became his bride, he would have to be mindful of her virginal softness, tempting her slowly until she yielded to him. And she would marry him. He would find a way to coax her into accepting his suit.
