“We’ll make camp on the shore after we arrive,” Honora said. “Search along the beach. If you find anything, I’ll offer you a share in the gold.”
The men’s eyes brightened with anticipation. Bres, in particular, had the eagerness of youth. Barely nineteen, he reminded Honora of Ewan. She smiled, thinking of it.
Ewan took off the ionar he’d worn, folding the jacket to form a soft pillow. “Get some sleep, Honora. I’ll mind the boat.”
“We’ll take turns,” Trahern corrected.
Honora knew nothing about sailing and was content to let them guide the vessel. She closed her eyes, resting her head upon Ewan’s garment.
It was a mistake. She could feel the warmth of his body, smell his scent. It was like sleeping beside him, and an uncomfortable awareness crept into her mind. Her eyes flitted open, and she saw him watching her.
His body was silhouetted by the dying sun, his posture tense. He carried the weight of the chain mail armor as though it were nothing. Muscles seemed to strain against the tiny links, the armor molding around his large form.
She wanted to touch him again.
Troublesome thoughts mulled around in her head, and she shifted her position so as to watch him without his knowledge. The night air was growing colder, and she huddled against the side of the boat, as if the wood could warm her.
When the sky finally turned dark, only the stars and moonlight remained to guide them. Ewan took his turn guiding the vessel, and when Bres replaced him at the helm, she sensed movement coming closer to her.
“Honora,” Ewan whispered. There was a warmth in his voice, as well as a questioning tone.
“I’m cold,” she admitted.
“Will you allow me to warm you?”
She nodded, but then realized he could not see her response. “Please.”
Before he did so, he guided her toward the back of the boat, away from both horses and men. Isolated from everyone, she could almost pretend they were alone.
She huddled close, and at first, the cold chain mail links were a shock against her skin. Ewan settled her upon his lap, wrapping his cloak around her like a warm blanket. Beneath her cheek, she could hear his heart beating faster.
No one broke the silence of the night. Only the creaking of the boat and the light sound of wind whipping the sails interrupted the stillness. Honora tried to close her eyes, but all she could think was how right it was, being in Ewan’s arms.
She didn’t want to leave him. She needed the warmth of his embrace, to be intimate with him. The very thought of any other woman being a part of his life made her want to reach for a sword.
“Ewan?” she whispered, her voice barely audible.
His reply was to hold her closer, his mouth leaning down to her ear. “What is it?”
The hardness of his body pressed up against hers made her ache for him. She didn’t know what to say, nor how to tell him that she wanted him desperately. She turned around in his lap to face him, her legs straddling his waist. Her hands moved up to his cheeks, feeling the coolness of his skin.
Already her body was warming. Except for Bres, the rest of the men were asleep. They were virtually alone, and in the darkness, she could see no one.
Beneath the cloak, they had complete privacy. Honora slid her hands beneath the heavy armor, reaching under his tunic to touch his bare skin. Ewan let out a soft hiss, and she pressed her mouth against his.
He didn’t ask questions but devoured her lips. Instantly, she grew liquid, her body melting into his. The metal links of his armor seemed to brand against her skin, while his palms cupped her bottom. She tightened her legs around his waist, and his hard length was evident beneath his trews.
Jesu, she never should have started this. Although the men were asleep and it was so dark she couldn’t see her fingers in front of her face, she was afraid of being discovered.
Just a kiss. That was all it was.
Her mouth moved against him as though she couldn’t get enough. She fought to keep silent, but when his hands inched beneath her skirts, she nearly let out a cry.
“Can you remain quiet?” he whispered against her ear. His mouth closed over the lobe, sending shivers through her. “How strong are you?”
She rose up to kiss his own ear, tasting the curve of him. “Strong enough for you.”
His hand moved beneath her skirt, sliding up her thigh. His fingers dipped against her wetness, arousing her deeply. She tensed at the sensation but it was a torment to remain silent. His fingers slid inside, flexing into her body. Entering, then withdrawing. Slow and smooth.
