he accused. His muscles did not appear taxed in the least by her body weight.
The last time she’d seen Ewan, he’d been a gangly boy of sixteen. Tall and thin, she remembered him as an awkward fighter, driven to succeed. He’d trained night and day, struggling to gain expertise.
The boy had become a man. A handsome one at that. His dark blond hair was cut short, emphasising a lean face and a strong jaw line. Broad shoulders revealed a tight strength she hadn’t remembered. Ridged muscles lined his abdomen, down to …
Oh, dear God above. He was naked.
With that, every coherent thought left her. She gaped at him, unable to stop herself from stealing a long look. Her husband had never looked like this. Like a savage Celt, Ewan had a wildness about him that made her uneasy.
He eased her down the wall, still holding her wrists trapped. She had stopped struggling, too disconcerted at being near him. He released one wrist and ripped her hood free.
‘You’re a woman.’
She couldn’t gather up her thoughts to answer.
‘Who are you?’ he demanded.
Her tongue caught in her throat. Didn’t he remember her? After all the years she’d humiliated herself, tagging along and trying to defeat him in swordplay? But then, the darkness hid her features from him. He couldn’t see her clearly.
‘Katherine?’ he asked gently.
Anger surged through her. No, she wasn’t her beautiful, saintly sister. He ought to have figured that out, from her unexpected entrance into his chamber. Her sister wouldn’t dream of entering a man’s bedchamber, much less hunt a thief.
Before she could deny it, his mouth came down upon hers. A shocking sensation rushed through her skin, as though every part of her had caught fire. She forgot what she was seeking, forgot what was happening. The world around her crumbled, with nothing else, save his kiss.
She didn’t know how to respond, and her lips remained frozen. Gentle and coaxing, Ewan slid his hands through her hair. His powerful thighs pressed up to her body, the hot length of him suddenly reminding her why it was unwise to awaken a sleeping man.
His hands caressed the hollow of her back, slipping beneath the man’s tunic she wore. A light shiver rose up on her skin while his hands roamed her body, caressing her as though she were made of silk. The touch of his rough palms aroused her, and an aching warmth bloomed between her thighs.
The unfamiliar sensation caught her without warning. His rough palms stroked her spine, and she longed for his hands to move upwards. To fill up with her breasts, easing the heaviness and the shocking need.
Never had a man touched her in this way. Especially not her husband.
The memory slashed through her, shattering the moment. She pushed him away, her lips swollen and her body restless. ‘I’m not Katherine.’
‘Honora.’
She nodded, not trusting her voice. She reached for her dagger, but discovered it wasn’t there.
Ewan raised the blade, the steel reflecting in the moonlight. ‘Looking for this?’
‘I didn’t come here to harm you.’
‘No. Only to rob me.’
‘I didn’t even know you were here,’ she protested. ‘I came looking for—’ She almost said a thief, but silenced herself. For all she knew, Ewan was the thief. Doubtful, but she could not rule it out.
‘Looking for your husband?’ he queried. Accusations filled up his voice, as though she were a little girl caught stealing sweets.
‘My husband is dead.’ She pulled his hand off her other wrist and held out her palm. ‘Give me back my dagger.’
‘No.’ Ewan held it out of reach, and Honora lunged for it. With her full weight bearing down on him, she took him down. Before she could grab the blade from his grasp, he rolled over, his body crushing hers.
Trapped, she felt every line of his body. And the dangerous glint in his eye made her aware that she had made a very bad decision.
‘I’m not the boy I was, Honora.’ He kept her pinioned, and tossed the knife away. ‘You won’t defeat me in a fight. Not any more.’
Her face flushed. Apparently, he hadn’t forgotten how she’d bested him. More than once she’d disarmed him, her fighting skills equal to his. But that was long ago.
‘Let me get up.’ She tried to sit, and Ewan rolled off her. He sat beside her on the floor, seemingly at ease.
She tried to straighten her clothing, regaining her composure. ‘Why are you here?’
‘I’m going to wed your sister.’
She bit back the argument that he was but one man among many. Her father hadn’t settled the betrothal yet, nor would he, until he had taken each man’s measure.
‘I’m sorry I kissed you,’ he said. ‘I mistook you for Katherine.’
His apology only heated up her temper. Honora knew she wasn’t as comely as her sister, but she didn’t need to be reminded of it. ‘Katherine would never enter a stranger’s bedchambers.’
‘Unlike you.’ There was a hint of humour beneath his tone, but she didn’t acknowledge the teasing. It made her feel insulted, and she regretted her impulsive behaviour.
The door opened, and Honora jerked to her feet. Oh, heaven. Another angry MacEgan brother was staring at her.
‘Am I interrupting something?’ He glanced at Ewan, who didn’t seem at all embarrassed to be naked with a woman beside him.
‘Honora was just leaving.’ Ewan gestured towards the door, and she took the invitation gratefully. She didn’t even bother about the dagger, so thankful was she to flee their presence.
Bevan closed the door behind Honora, setting a torch within an iron sconce. Ewan didn’t miss the questioning look upon his brother’s face. ‘Wrong chamber,’ was his only offer of explanation.
Bevan didn’t believe a word of it, and waited for him to elaborate. Frankly, Ewan didn’t feel like it. He’d been awakened by the sound of Honora’s intrusion, and hadn’t at all expected to find a woman in his chamber.
His uneasiness escalated, for he’d acted on impulse, kissing her. At first, he’d tricked himself into thinking Katherine had come to see him. Fool. Katherine was shy and demure, not nearly as brazen as her sister.
Honora. He rested his fingertips against his mouth, thinking of the kiss he’d stolen. The taste of her lingered, soft and sweet. Completely unlike the stubborn girl who had plagued him so many years ago.
‘Her father won’t be pleased,’ Bevan said. ‘I drank nearly half a barrel of ale with him this night, pleading your case.’ He grimaced at the late hour, running a hand through his hair. ‘You’d best ensure that he doesn’t find out about this. I doubt if he’ll let you wed his youngest daughter
