There was nothing he could say to ease her guilt, but he pulled her back into his arms, caressing her cheek with his knuckles. Without thinking, he touched his mouth to hers in a light kiss.
A mistake.
Her mouth met his with hunger and fire, and he held her tightly, showing her with his body and his kiss, how much he desired her. The fierce possessiveness, the need to keep her safe, drowned out all reason.
Honora broke free and took a step back, as if she needed the physical distance. Her breathing was rushed, her arms wrapped tightly around her. “I can’t lie with you tonight, Ewan. I am sorry.”
She was widening the distance, separating herself in preparation for the forthcoming fight. With a chilling clarity, he realized what this was about. She didn’t expect to come back alive. She believed she would die in this battle, giving up her life for her people.
“You’re not going to face John alone, Honora.” He took her hand, walking back with her toward the castle.
“Of course not,” she argued. “I’m hiring men of your tribe. With the silver I won from the fight with Ó Phelan.”
“I’ll be among them,” he said quietly. He didn’t care how angry she was. This was about her life, her safety. And he’d not remain at home.
“I don’t need you stepping in as though I can’t protect myself.” She pulled her hand away, anger punctuating her words.
“Oh, I’ve no doubt that you are quite capable.” He reached out and touched her chin with his finger. “But I would give up my own life, before I’d let John harm you.”
Honora didn’t speak a word, her eyes filled with defensive fury. She mistakenly believed that he lacked faith in her skills.
“We aren’t finished yet, Honora,” he murmured. “Not at all.”
Chapter Twenty
Thesilverwasnotenough. Honora had suspected as much, but she’d managed to hire two men. She had selected a younger fighter, a man named Bres, whom she’d seen in the competitions earlier. He would be hungry to prove himself. After Bres, she’d chosen Conand, a man who was half-Norse and had a great deal of experience fighting against the Normans. King Patrick had also granted her the knight, Sir Anselm, who would accompany them to England.
An army of three. Dear saints, she needed a miracle.
“Farewell,” Genevieve said, kissing her cheek. “If you happen to see my father, give him my love.”
Though she was unsure of how things would transpire at Ceredys, Honora managed a smile. “When all of this is over, perhaps I will visit him.”
Queen Isabel walked over to join them. She held out a wrapped bundle to Honora. “I had your gown repaired. But you are welcome to keep theléineand overdress I gave you.”
Honora thanked her, and the queen held her hands a moment longer. With a serious expression, she noted, “You don’t have enough men for this battle.”
“No,” Honora admitted. “But the men of Ceredys will help us.” Especially those seeking vengeance on behalf of their wives and daughters, she thought darkly.
“You have my prayers,” Isabel offered. “And I bid you a safe journey.”
“Will you grant me your prayers as well, Isabel?” a male voice asked from behind them.
Honora turned and was struck to see Ewan wearing a full suit of chain mail armor. His dark blond hair hung down against his neck, and he held his helm in one hand while a sword was sheathed at his waist.
Oh Jesu. Ewan had really meant it, when he’d said he was coming with her. She didn’t want this, didn’t want him commanding the attack. She’d warned him before, that this was her battle to face.
Dressed like a Norman fighter, he was every inch the warrior. Honora’s mouth went dry, just to look at him. Powerful and dominant, Ewan held the confidence of a man who knew he would win.
“You will always have my prayers, Ewan.” The queen stood on tiptoes and kissed him on the cheek. He bid farewell to his brothers and their wives before striding toward the coastline.
Before she could voice a protest, Ewan spoke rapidly in Irish to his kinsmen, giving orders. They nodded in agreement, walking toward the shore where the boat was waiting. The vessel was larger than the one they had arrived on, and it enabled them to take horses. Each man had his own mount, and she saw that there was another horse, presumably for her.
Bres was helping the horses on board the boat, leading them through the water and onto an elevated ramp. Ewan had reached the waters’ edge and was following the path of the horses.
Honora hurried faster until she caught up. “Where do you think you’re going?”
His eyes gleamed. “You already know the answer to that, Honora. As I’ve said, you’ll be getting another fighter.” He removed his helm and stepped into the boat, reaching for her waist to help her inside.
