Ewan could feel her reaching to John, and though he could not fathom her purpose, his jealousy reared out of control. “Don’t, Honora.”
Honora sent him a warning look, but her hands released John. What in the name of God was she trying to do?
With no answer to the question, she stepped backwards toward the sandbar. In the distance, a storm was rolling in, the dark waves tipped white.
Her foot slipped, and she stepped into a patch of quicksand. Throwing her body sideways, the shallow wave soaked her, but she managed to elude the death trap.
Ewan started to breathe again when she regained solid footing. Honora didn’t need to be taking such chances, not on a treasure she wouldn’t find. He couldn’t understand what her intentions were, but the danger was unacceptable.
“You don’t have much time,” Ceredys warned. “The tide is coming in.”
Honora made no reply, walking toward a strange stone outcropping. Recognizing the bird shape, Ewan wondered what she’d found. She knelt in front of it, digging further. Her hands disappeared as she reached inside an opening.
“Did you lie with Honora?” John asked softly.
A burning sensation sliced Ewan's throat. Warm blood dripped down the chain mail he wore.
“I can see that you did.” John lifted the blade again. “I should kill you for it. She belongs to me.”
Before he could break free of the baron’s grasp, Honora cried out in triumph. The tide was moving closer, the waves now reaching her ankles. Within moments, her knees were covered by the water.
Too fast. He’d never seen a tide move in that quickly.
“Honora, get out of there!” Ewan warned.
But she kept pouring handfuls of something hidden, into a sack at her waist. He didn’t trust it. It was too simple. Was she trying to trick John, by filling the sack with sand and rocks? Or had she truly found something?
“Bring it to me,” John commanded.
Honora trudged through the sand, trying to reach the shoreline before the tide came in. More than once, she stumbled, while the water had risen up to her waist.
She stood a few paces from Ewan, her body soaked, her teeth chattering. “I have the treasure. Now let him go.”
“I don’t believe you.” John tightened his grasp, the point of his dagger sharp against Ewan’s throat. “Show it to me.”
As surely as he knew he was about to die, Ewan believed Honora had nothing but sand inside the sack. Though he didn’t fear his own death, he couldn’t allow the baron to take Honora prisoner again. And he didn’t know how to save her.
Honora’s hesitation only infuriated the baron. “I said show it to me!”
With a broken expression, Honora whispered, “I am sorry, Ewan.” She reached into the bag and withdrew a handful of silver coins. They slid from her fingers, and in that moment, the blade eased from his throat.
Ewan gripped the baron’s arm, twisting the knife away. He heard a bone crack, and John grasped his wrist, howling in pain.
Ewan lunged for the bag of silver. “No, wait!” Honora protested. But he ignored her, using his left hand to hurl the silver into the sea. Then he pulled Honora to him, grasping his sword in his left hand.
John stared hard at him. And seconds later, he rushed after the silver coins.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Ewanletoutahiss when Honora embraced him tightly. "Help me with this shoulder, Honora."
She winced, as though she'd rather tear her own arm off rather than cause him pain.
"Do it quickly," he ordered. Bracing himself, he focused his attention on John while she bent his elbow inward and then back again. When the shoulder would not move, he groaned with the wave of agony that radiated through him.
"I'm sorry," she fretted, moving his elbow once again.
"Just finish it." He bit his lip until he tasted blood. Honora bent his elbow back sideways until he nearly passed out from the pain. At last, he heard an audible pop, and his shoulder slid back into its socket.
