Taming Her Irish Warrior

‘Yes, but he’s found nothing.’ Frustration tensed in her face. ‘It could be one of Katherine’s suitors.’

‘But you don’t think it’s me.’

She rolled her eyes. ‘I wouldn’t be telling you all this if I believed that. And besides, I went looking for the chest in your room. It wasn’t there.’

‘What do you want me to do?’

‘Listen to the other suitors. You always were good at slipping around without anyone seeing you. Let me know what you find out.’

‘Why does it matter to you, Honora?’ He leaned against the wall, noting that she was still uncomfortable. ‘You live on your husband’s estate now, do you not?’

‘I am not ready to return. Not yet.’

The violent edge to her voice drew his curiosity. She was running away from something. Or someone. A dark thought occurred to him, as he recalled his brother’s wife, Genevieve. She had been betrothed to a Norman knight who’d taken his fists to her. Thanks to Bevan, she’d escaped the marriage.

Was someone threatening Honora in the same way?

‘Who has harmed you?’ he asked, softening his tone.

She gripped the sword tightly, lifting the blade into a fighting stance. When he looked closer into her eyes, he saw fury, not fear. ‘Do you think I would let any man hurt me?’

Her words were meant to push him away, to convince him to leave her alone. And yet, he didn’t quite believe her. Something had happened, something that troubled her deeply.

‘It’s late,’ Honora continued. ‘Send word to me if you learn anything about the thief.’

He didn’t ask her why she cared about a stolen chest. It was apparent she needed something to distract her. And though he didn’t particularly want to get involved, he couldn’t allow a thief among them, either.

Inclining his head, he agreed. ‘I’ll help you.’

The games began at dawn. Lord Ardennes had arranged several matches to test their skills, among them wrestling, foot races, archery and sword fighting. Ewan had selected wrestling as his first test of skill.

Before he approached the fighting arena, his brother Bevan offered a warning. ‘They don’t like Irishmen. Be prepared for treachery.’

‘Don’t interfere. This is my fight.’

‘If they threaten your life, I’ll interfere, tournament or not. You’re my brother.’

His older brother still held little faith. But then, Bevan had been preoccupied, as of late. His wife, Genevieve, was expecting their fourth babe this summer, and Ewan knew Bevan would rather be at her side than here.

‘I’m going to win,’ he reassured Bevan quietly. And he would. There was no question in his mind that he would claim the victory. His brother looked unconvinced, but at last, Bevan relented and stepped back.

Ewan moved towards the dais, where Lord Ardennes waited with his two daughters. The other suitors were dressed in preparation for the fighting, most wearing chainmail armour. All were Norman, and each one held the title of knight or lord.

It made Ewan uncomfortably aware that he was the lowest ranked among them. And though the Baron had agreed to let him court Katherine, he suspected it was out of courtesy to his foster-father—not because Lord Ardennes had any intention of honouring a match between them.

Uneasily, he awaited his turn to greet Katherine. Both women wore their finest gowns: Katherine in a cream-coloured bliaud embroidered with gold, while Honora wore a dark blue gown. Their heads were veiled and crowned with silver bands.

Lord Ardennes was saying something that he couldn’t hear, and Honora stared off into the distance, her cheeks flushed.

‘What was that?’ he asked the man beside him.

‘The Baron is offering both daughters in marriage. His eldest daughter will wed before the younger.’

Honora was seeking a husband? Ewan tensed at the declaration. Now why hadn’t she mentioned that? She’d said nothing about remarrying. And she was supposed to wed before Katherine could choose a suitor?

From the guilt written on her face, it must be true.

Suddenly, he began to wonder if their chance encounters were not so coincidental. She’d crept into his bedchamber, for God’s sakes. As he drew closer to the dais to pay his respects, his irritation with Honora grew.

Of all the women in Christendom, Honora was the very last one he’d wed. Her stubborn nature clashed with his own, and he hadn’t forgotten the way she’d tormented him as a lad. The man who took her to wife would need infinite patience.

He forced his anger away as he bowed before Katherine. ‘Lady Katherine, you look lovely this morn.’

She smiled and offered him a white ribbon as a token. ‘I shall enjoy watching you fight, MacEgan.’

From his periphery, he noticed Honora glaring at him. He ignored it, for she had no cause to be displeased.

‘I owe you a gift still,’ he continued, directing his full attention to Katherine. ‘Is there aught you desire?’

She thought a moment. With a bright smile, she offered, ‘I should like to spend an afternoon getting reacquainted. The last time I saw you was years ago.’

Satisfaction poured through him, reinforcing his confidence. So, he did have a chance at winning her hand. The pretty blush upon Katherine’s cheeks made him feel like he could lift up a stone wall. ‘If it means spending time with you, I would be glad of it.’

Honora kept her gaze firmly fixed upon the fighting arena, but he sensed she was rolling her eyes.

Katherine beamed. ‘Excellent. We shall bring a meal with us, and Honora can come as well.’

Honora blinked at her sister, sending a fierce look in his direction as if to say, not a good idea.

He didn’t think so either. He’d rather have time alone with Katherine. Likely Honora had no desire to be a chaperon, but neither of them could protest without raising suspicions. ‘I will await you on the morrow.’

‘At the stables, if you please. Just past terce.’

He bowed in agreement, and turned to Honora. Though she attempted a smile, it was strained around the edges. He lowered his voice. ‘You didn’t tell me you were planning to wed again.’

‘No, I didn’t.’ From the tension lining her face, she was not pleased. Though she wore the outer finery of a lady, she appeared uninterested in finding a husband. Instead, she seemed to be counting down the hours until her escape.

‘Is that what you want?’

Her discomfort seemed to intensify. ‘I don’t wish to talk about it now.’

Suspicions took root, but he held back the questions. Instead, as a gesture of peace, he offered, ‘I wish you luck in finding a man who pleases you.’

‘These men aren’t here for me, Ewan,’ she whispered, glancing down at her hands. ‘They’re here for Katherine. Yourself included.’

Misery lined her voice. He hadn’t expected to feel sorry for her. Though he didn’t know what, if anything, he could do, he supposed he could investigate the suitors. He’d promised to help her find the thief, after all.

‘I’ll find out what I can about the other men.’ At least it was something. He bowed to her, tightening his fist around Katherine’s ribbon.