Taming Her Irish Warrior

But this man did.

Chapter Six

Ewan moved beside Honora, keeping Katherine behind them. ‘Who is he?’

‘John St Leger of Ceredys. My husband’s son and the new Baron.’ There was no tremble in her voice, but Honora looked as though she were about to be sick.

Ewan sheathed his sword, but rested his hand upon the hilt. The men drew their horses to a stop, but did not immediately dismount. He wasn’t surprised; it allowed them the physical height advantage.

Katherine stepped forwards to greet them, but Ewan halted her. ‘Wait.’

‘Why are they here?’ she murmured. She glanced at her sister, whose face was the colour of snow.

Honora did not move. Her hands locked around her waist, as though she craved a sword and scabbard. In a low whisper so her sister couldn’t hear, she murmured, ‘Keep him away from me, Ewan.’

He almost wondered if he’d imagined the words. What had this man done to her? But he gave a slight nod, letting her know he’d heard.

Lord Beaulais was the first to dismount, and he sent a false smile towards Katherine. Ewan’s grip tightened on the sword hilt. If Beaulais dared to offend the women, he’d find himself with a few missing limbs.

‘We saw you leaving with the women, MacEgan.’ The nobleman smirked and added, ‘You didn’t think we’d let you have both of them all to yourself, now did you?’

Ewan folded his arms and regarded Beaulais. ‘I don’t recall Lady Katherine inviting any of you.’

‘Her father invited all of us,’ Beaulais corrected.

Sir Ademar cast a fleeting glance at Katherine. He didn’t speak to her, nor smile, but something provoked Ewan’s suspicions. There was an uneasiness in the knight’s demeanour, as though he had come to prevent the other two from an attack.

But right now, his greater concern was Honora. Ewan took a step closer to her, even as Sir Ademar dismounted.

The knight approached them, though his gaze flickered back to the men. ‘I am glad to see you this morn, m-my Lady Honora. You look …’ he struggled to find the right words ‘… very fine. That is, I mean … your face is like a …’

‘A diamond. A pearl. Just choose a damned jewel and be done with it,’ Beaulais shot back.

Katherine glared at the nobleman, and nodded for Ademar to continue. The knight knelt before them, his face crimson. Ewan almost pitied the man.

Certainly Honora did, for she accepted the knight’s hand and nodded for him to rise. ‘Thank you for your kindness, Sir Ademar.’

The softness on her face caught Ewan by surprise. He was accustomed to seeing her in fierce concentration, as though she were facing an enemy. But at this moment, she became gentle, reminding him that she was female and desirable.

Ewan didn’t like the way she was looking at the knight, even if the man’s intentions were honourable. Honora smiled at Ademar, and Ewan wanted to tear her hand away from his. It was an irrational thought, for what did it matter if she chose to wed the knight? It was one less suitor competing for Katherine’s hand. But it bothered him more than it should have.

A moment later, after she drew back, he felt the soft touch of Honora’s hand upon his spine. What was she doing? He nearly jerked away, so startled was he to feel her hand upon him. She moved her palm towards the dagger sheathed at his side.

She had her own weapon … why the need for a second blade? Then again, he didn’t trust Beaulais not to start a fight.

Katherine exchanged a glance with Sir Ademar and offered an excuse. ‘We were about to return to Ardennes, weren’t we? If you’d like to accompany us back—’

‘I fear we interrupted your meal.’ Beaulais gestured to the basket of provisions with a rueful smile. ‘There’s no need to return so soon.’

To her credit, Katherine did not invite the men to join them. ‘I’m afraid there isn’t really enough.’ She offered an apologetic smile. ‘I had packed provisions for only three of us. If we return to the castle, I would be pleased to offer a more fitting meal there, for you and the others. You must allow me to do so, as your hostess.’

Despite the gracious offer, Ewan was glad to see that Katherine’s smile seemed to be hiding annoyance. Good. He didn’t want her pairing up with any of these men.

John of Ceredys walked towards Honora, his hands outstretched in greeting. Honora didn’t move, keeping her grip upon the blade at his side. The simple touch made him aware of her, of her sudden reliance upon him. He made a silent vow to keep her safe.

He’d never seen Honora this agitated, and he couldn’t quite tell whether it was fear or rage. Either way, it was best if Ceredys kept his distance.

‘Lady Honora. I have missed the pleasure of your company at Ceredys.’ The Baron tried to step around him to greet her, but Ewan remained fixed in his position.

‘I don’t believe the Lady Honora wishes to speak with you.’ Ewan drew his sword slightly, in a silent threat.

‘And what does the lady say for herself?’ John demanded.

‘Lord Ceredys.’ Her voice was clear and steady, showing no fear. ‘You’ve made a long journey.’

Her body tensed, as though she were about to attack the man. Ewan had never seen her this way, as though she wanted to murder Ceredys. Why? What had the Baron done?

Katherine intervened again. ‘I really do want to return.’ She began packing up the basket, and looked at Ewan in a plea for help.

‘We’ll go, as you wish,’ he acceded.

But as she moved towards her horse, Ewan made it clear to every man there that he would not let any harm come to the women. He didn’t miss the anger kindled in Lord Ceredys’s eyes.

Nor the rage that Honora tried to hold back.

John had followed her.

Honora clenched her fist around the grip of her dagger, wishing to God that it wasn’t a mortal sin to kill a man. Just having him near made her skin crawl.

She’d remained close to Ewan and Katherine for the rest of the day, though she felt badly for interfering with their courtship. John was not to be trusted, even with a castle full of servants and guards.

After the evening meal, she rose and followed Katherine to their chamber. As she passed the men seated at the trestle tables, her senses went on alert. It took a great deal of composure not to draw her weapon. Especially when John’s hungry eyes locked upon her.