‘What was she doing?’
‘Looking for someone.’ He shrugged, as though it were of no importance. Though now that he considered it, he wondered precisely whom she had sought. ‘What else did her father say?’
‘He will consider your suit. Thomas de Renalt also spoke with him and offered his approval of the match.’
Ewan’s tension eased a bit at the mention of his foster-father. ‘Good.’
Sinking back onto his pallet, he stared at the ceiling while Bevan retreated to his own sleeping place. The torch flickered shadows on to the walls, while all around, he heard the noise of other guests. In the distance, a dog barked, its cries mingling with the sounds of night.
Honora’s hair had been short, barely touching her shoulders. Ragged and silky, he hadn’t expected that. He was accustomed to seeing her with a veil. The intimacy of her bare head reminded him of how he’d kissed her, winding his fingers through the softness.
Her hair was the colour of a midnight sky, her skin milky pale. Large, full lips had kissed him back, and she’d tasted like apples, succulent with a hint of sweetness. Her arms were not the soft skin of most women, but they held a lean strength. So often she’d tried to best him when they were fostered together. She’d won, more times than he wanted to remember.
Not any more.
He shifted upon the bed coverings, trying to force his thoughts back to Katherine as he drifted off to sleep. Even so, he couldn’t forget Honora’s kiss.
Chapter Two
‘You were seen leaving the MacEgan bedchamber last night.’ Nicholas de Montford, the Baron of Ardennes, set his goblet firmly upon the table in his private chamber. He folded his hands, the morning sunlight reflecting on his gold rings.
Honora’s cheeks burned, and she fumbled for an excuse. ‘It was a mistake. I was merely trying to find—’
‘Your rooms are on the opposite side of the donjon. Don’t offer lies.’
Caught. Her father was many things, but he was not a fool. His harsh expression regarded her as if weighing a decision. Honora folded her hands and waited for him to go on. When he didn’t, her agitation heightened. Was he going to punish her? What did he want?
‘Nothing happened,’ she offered. ‘I left immediately.’
‘That does not matter. You are a widow and must comport yourself with virtue.’
He made it sound as though she’d invaded MacEgan’s bedchamber with the intent of deflowering him. Her cheeks burned brighter at the memory of his strong, naked body. Ewan had never looked like that as an adolescent. But now … Her body tightened at the memory of his kiss. Her fingernails dug into her wrists as she fought to subdue the thought.
‘Is it your intention to remarry?’ her father was asking.
‘No!’ she blurted out. Hadn’t she endured marriage once before? Her husband, Ranulf, hadn’t lived for more than a year, praise be. And, God willing, she would never have another husband.
Her father steepled his hands. ‘I thought Ranulf would be a good husband for you, that he would provide you with a comfortable home. None of us expected him to die so soon.’
Honora didn’t admit she was glad Ranulf was dead. But why would Nicholas think she’d want another husband? There was no need.
She crossed herself, in a half-hearted gesture of forgiveness. ‘I don’t want to wed again.’
Nicholas regarded her with a serious expression. ‘You cannot remain here forever, Honora. It’s been half a year since you left Ceredys.’
And yet, it didn’t seem long enough. Her shoulders lowered, the guilt bearing down on her.
‘One third of Ranulf’s estate belongs to you by law,’ Nicholas continued, narrowing his gaze at her. ‘A pity you didn’t have any sons of your own. You’d have gotten more.’
And thank Heaven for that. She wanted no son of Ceredys blood, no permanent reminder of Ranulf St Leger. Her husband had left most of the land to his son John, who was born of a former marriage.
Like a serpent John was, sleek and deceptive. She shivered at the memory. He could have her third of the estate and her dowry land, if it meant getting rid of him.
She blamed herself for what had happened at Ceredys. Even with the influence of John’s grandmother Marie St Leger, she’d been unable to stop him from stripping away every last penny of rents from the villagers.
What kind of a warrior could she call herself, if she let her people endure such a fate? Time had slipped away from her, and she still had not managed to conceive of a suitable plan.
‘How much longer do you intend to hide behind my walls?’ her father asked softly.
‘I’m not hiding.’
He cast a look that said he didn’t believe her.
‘I will go back,’ she said quietly. ‘Soon enough.’ If John were removed from power, she could try to repair the damage he’d done. But she couldn’t overthrow him without help. ‘I would ask you again, to lend me soldiers.’
‘No. It isn’t my place, nor yours, to meddle with John’s … difficulties at Ceredys.’
‘He’s robbed them of their food,’ she protested. ‘You cannot stand by and do nothing. There are innocent folk suffering from what he’s done.’
His expression hardened. ‘Then perhaps you should marry a man with an army.’
Honora expelled a sigh of frustration, shaking her head. She would find a way to help them without relying upon another man.
Nicholas continued on, oblivious to her refusal. ‘It would be the sensible thing to do. You’re young enough to bear many sons.’
Honora reached to her side, but she’d forgotten her dagger wasn’t there. Squeezing the grip usually brought her comfort, but she doubted if anything could calm the temper rising this time.
‘Father, please.’ She closed her eyes, wishing there was some way to make him understand. ‘I need time.’
She would not marry again. Never could she forget the ten months of hell she’d suffered, nor the months afterwards of avoiding John.
‘You’re not getting any younger. And if you want any children at all, you’ve no choice.’
Honora swallowed, not facing her father. The idea of bearing a child terrified her. She hadn’t made a good wife—why would she expect to be a good mother?
Her father didn’t seem to notice her silence. ‘No, I believe it is God’s will, Honora. I chose poorly for your first husband. For the second, I’ll allow you to choose. You may select first from among the suitors here.’
‘But those men are here for Katherine!’ she protested. Did he expect
