With each stroke, Honora bit her lips to keep from making a sound. She shifted against him, her body straining for the fulfillment he could bring. It was the most intensely carnal sensation she’d ever experienced, to be surrounded by others while the man she loved was touching her.
Forbidden. Wicked.
He fumbled his hand beneath her and a moment later, his fingers were replaced with something else. Without warning, her weight slid against the thickness of his manhood, and he filled her. Making love like this, with others around them, was something she’d never done—never expected to do. And because it was Ewan, she climaxed immediately.
Her womanhood convulsed around him, his unexpected motion sending her over the edge. Ewan cut off her sound with his mouth, kissing her fiercely. He held her tightly as her wetness spasmed against his length. And then, when she was pliant against him, her body spent, he let the quiet rocking of the boat move them together.
Her knees rested against the bottom of the boat while Ewan sat back. She couldn’t see the expression on his face, but she lifted herself a fraction and sank back down. He was buried so deep inside, she could feel his thighs against hers.
His mouth came down on hers again, relentless and driven as he fused their bodies together to the rhythm of the waves. Her fingernails bit into the chain mail armor, and she tasted blood. She was past caring where they were or who was around them. All that mattered was joining with him, telling him without words just how much she loved him.
Thebarestmovementofthe waves sent her weight thrusting down upon him. It was taking Ewan apart while he tried not to make a sound. Her unexpected kiss, and his own lust had sent all reason spinning into madness.
He didn’t know what had caused Honora to kiss him, but he wasn’t about to turn her away. He sensed that she needed him, and though he could not guess why she’d changed her mind, he couldn’t stop himself from claiming her.
The problem was, she had become the conqueror this time.
It had seemed like an interesting way to shock her, to see what she would do if he became her lover again. But he’d fallen beneath her spell now, and it was too late to turn back. Though he wanted to press her down into the boat, thrusting deep inside until she cried out her release, he couldn’t. And knowing that they could be caught at any moment, added a delicious new aspect.
She was close to another release now. Pressing her lips against his, her tongue slid inside his mouth. He captured it, tangling with her in a different type of battle.
His length was so hard, he gritted his teeth. He adjusted the long cloak again, though likely no one could see them. Gripping the fabric closed with one hand, he used the other to guide her up, and then down again upon his erection.
“Let yourself go,” she whispered against his ears. Her silky wetness bounced against him, squeezing him tight. He drove in as deeply as he dared, making her ride him, just as the boat skimmed the waves again.
And then his body erupted, spilling into her depths and giving him one of the most intense releases he’d ever had. Her arms gripped his neck so tightly, she dipped down again. He was rewarded with her body shaking, and he kissed her again to cut off any sounds she might have made.
She rested against him, her thighs around his waist, her skirts tangled up. Laying her head against his chest, he held her so close their hearts might have become one. Against her ear, he murmured, “There will never be any other woman for me but you.”
Her lips kissed his temple. “None other, but you,” she promised.
For now, it was enough.
Whentheboatlandedat Morecambe Bay along the northwest shore of England, Honora guided them to a safe place to land. “There are areas of quicksand,” she’d warned.
Ewan deferred to her knowledge of the land, and when she had found a safe place for them to disembark, they set their anchor and brought in the horses.
There was a change in her from the moment they landed. Her demeanor shifted to one of purpose, and although he doubted there would be any treasure, he didn’t stand in her way. Honora ordered Bres and Conand to begin searching the beach for any signs that could lead to the gold. In the meantime, Ewan planned to study the area with Trahern and discern what John was up to.
“I want to go with you to Ceredys,” Honora had said. “I know the estate better than either of you.”
“They’ll recognize you too easily,” Ewan argued. “We’re not going to confront him—we’re going to scout out his location. I’ll come back, and we’ll form a plan together.”
His promise seemed to pacify her, and Honora stayed behind with Bres and Conand while Ewan rode east with Trahern.
Several dozen sheep grazed in the meadow, and a narrow stream cut through the land toward the castle. A small grove of trees stood a slight distance from the village, and Ewan motioned for his brother to follow him. They dismounted, hidden within the copse of oak and rowan. “Tether the horses, and we’ll split up,” Ewan ordered. “I don’t want anyone knowing we’re here.” He sent a hard look toward his older brother. “Don’t be caught.”
“Watch your own skin, my brother. And I’ll watch mine.”
Gone was the teasing nature of Trahern. There was a time when Ewan had relied upon Trahern to break a darker mood with his lighthearted stories. But now, the change in his brother was palpable. Trahern had confessed that he’d lost Ciara, the woman he’d planned to marry. Her death had cut his brother down, as badly as when Bevan had lost his first wife.
Ewan wasn’t about to let the same thing happen to him. Honora was his, and he would guard her at all costs. Though he didn’t know what had prompted their night together on the boat, it gave him the greatest hope of all. She had promised that there would be no other man but him. And God help them both, he would see to it that no man ever harmed her.
A premonition seized him, his skin prickling. He’d left her back on the beach with only two men as her protection. It wasn’t enough, if John approached them . . .
But then, Ceredys would have to ride past them to reach the shoreline. Ewan pushed the apprehensions away, forcing himself to concentrate upon the fortress. The motte and bailey structure showed signs of disrepair, with breaches in the outer walls and vines covering the spaces. The square fortress was still built mostly of wood with only a few stone walls.
The village was composed of thatched roundhouses, and more than one showed signs of being burned. Charred straw hung from the rooftops, while other sections were hardly repaired at all. Perhaps it was the baron’s form of punishment to those who could not pay their rents.
