He had stepped aside, letting her be the warrior she was. And by God, giving her this chance to fight made her love him even more.
When John tried again to use his strength to disarm her, Honora leaned hard against his sword, forcing his weight sideways before she tripped him to the sand. His stunned expression made her seize the advantage. He tried to roll away, but she pinned him, her blade resting against his throat.
For a hard moment, she stared at him. This was the moment she had trained for, the chance to free her people. One slice was all it would take to end his life.
She stared into his eyes, this man she wanted to kill. And still she didn’t move.
“Honora,” Ewan said softly. In his voice she sensed his silent support. And that he would finish what she could not.
John smiled. And seconds later, a handful of sand struck her eyes, burning and blinding her. He backhanded her face, and she saw stars. Out of instinct, Honora guarded her eyes, her hand reaching out to defend an unseen blow. Then suddenly, Ewan’s sword struck John’s, and the two men grappled together. She cried out, trying to clear the grit from her eyes.
With his shoulder dislocated, Ewan could only fight left-handed. Honora raced into the shallow water, scooping it into her eyes to wash the sand free. When her vision eased, she ran back to assist him.
She was too late. John had him trapped, a knife pointed at Ewan’s bared throat.
“You can save his life, Honora,” he whispered. “Find the treasure I’ve been seeking. Bring it to me.”
“There is no treasure.”
His eyes were mad, disbelieving her words. “Bring it to me, or I kill him now.”
SirAdemarslippedinsidethe castle of Ceredys, intent on finding Lady Katherine. Rage and anticipation boiled within him that the baron had dared to take her. After days of traveling, he would stop at nothing to find her and bring her home safely.
He rounded the corner, only to face an enraged warrior with a shaved head and the stature of a giant. The man extended his sword, and his dark eyes stared into Ademar’s, as though he were eager to kill. Behind him were almost two dozen armed men—serfs and villagers, from the look of them.
“Who are you?” the giant demanded.
Refusing to be cowed, Ademar rested his hand on his own sword hilt. “I am Sir Ademar of Dolwyth. I've come for Lady Katherine of Ardennes. Lord Ceredys took—took her prisoner.”
The giant lunged forward with his blade, and Ademar defended the blow, stepping out of range. When his attacker swung again, Ademar switched hands and nicked the giant’s face. “Where is she?”
“Gone. The Baron of Ceredys took her toward the coast.” The man’s accent was familiar, with a hint of Irish.
Ademar eyed the man closer, his suspicions rising. “You’re a MacEgan, aren’t you?”
The giant’s gaze narrowed. “Trahern MacEgan is my name.”
Ademar lowered his sword, not asking how the man had arrived at Ceredys. “If you are a brother to—to Ewan, then we’ve no—reason to fight.” He sheathed his weapon and asked, “Is he here?” He’d believed both Ewan and Honora had made it to the island of Erin but perhaps not.
“He went back to the shore to protect Lady Honora," Trahern answered. "I’m gathering these folk to fight against John. Your Lady Katherine isn’t the only prisoner here.”
“I’ve brought an army of my own,” Ademar admitted. "Lord Ardennes and his men are waiting in the forest. Will you join in our fight?"
Trahern smiled, and there was menace in his expression. “I will. And I think, soon enough, John of Ceredys will no longer be lord of this castle.”
Ewan’sshoulderburnedwitha vicious pain. Where the hell was Trahern? Was he off telling stories instead of recruiting fighters? The blade was tight against his throat, and he sensed that John was going to kill him anyway, regardless of what he’d promised Honora.
He glanced over at Bres. The young man’s face was crimson, his breathing labored. An arrow stuck out from his ribcage; not a mortal wound, but he was of no use to them. Conand lay unmoving, the sand stained red beneath him. Ewan prayed the man wasn’t dead, but he could not be sure.
Damn it, if he could just pop his shoulder back into place, he could bring Ceredys down. As it was, he had no movement in his right arm.
Ewan could see Honora’s mind working rapidly, as she moved closer to John. He didn’t like the look in her eyes; she was up to something.
“What if I find nothing?” she whispered to John. Her hand reached out to touch the baron’s shoulder, moving downward. An involuntary growl emitted from Ewan’s throat. What the hell was Honora doing? If he were able to move, he’d wrench her away from the bastard.
“Promise me you won’t harm him.”
John’s breathing quickened. “I might allow you to bargain for his life. With your body.”
