Taming Her Irish Warrior

by Michelle Willingham

  ‘Honora.’

  She raised her head and saw John seated upon a chair. His face was a mottled blend of black and purple bruises. A dark red split marred his lips, and the expression in his eyes was of a man bent upon vengeance. ‘I hope you slept well last night, in preparation for our journey this day.’

  Honora made no reply, while her eyes searched for a way out. There were four men in the chamber, along with herself and John. Too many. Her spirits sank, for she would rather die than return to Ceredys with him.

  ‘Why would you think that you can take me captive within my father’s donjon?’ she demanded. ‘I never agreed to go with you.’

  ‘You are not a captive,’ he corrected. ‘We are merely escorting you home as a courtesy. Your father preferred that we accompany you, so as to keep you from harm.’ His words held a trace of irony as he gestured for one of his men to help her to her feet.

  ‘Ceredys is not my home.’ Her heartbeat quickened as she struggled to think of a way out of this. ‘And you cannot force me to go back.’

  ‘Oh, you’ll go willingly,’ John said. ‘For if you don’t, I’ll order my men to attack Ewan MacEgan. He’s on foot, isn’t he? It would be easy enough to send an arrow through his back.’ He gentled his tone. ‘But if you come with me without protest, I’ll let him go.’

  She’d sooner trust a spider. But now was not the time to argue. Ewan would be leaving very soon. Likely, he would travel west, towards the coastline. He’d be out in the open, exposed to any attack.

  No, she couldn’t endanger Ewan by protesting. Best to feign surrender, waiting for the right moment to escape.

  ‘I don’t have a choice, do I?’

  John smiled. ‘I’m glad to see you understand. I’ll give the orders for our departure and see that the rest of your belongings are brought.’

  He glanced down at her waist, his gaze narrowed. ‘Your knife is broken. How curious.’

  Before she could move away, he ripped the blade free from its binding. The pommel separated, and the ruby clattered on to the floor. Triumph dawned in John’s eyes. ‘So. You thought to hide it from me.’

  ‘I only discovered it yestereve.’

  ‘Liar. And now you’re going to tell me where the rest of the treasure is.’

  ‘I don’t know—’

  His fist moved towards her face, but Honora threw herself to the ground, dodging the blow. John tossed the dagger grip at her feet, keeping the blade and ruby for himself. A hardened look crossed his face. ‘Rest assured, I will find the rest of the Ceredys jewels. You will tell me everything I want to know. Or you’ll suffer for it.’

  To his men, he ordered, ‘Guard her while I see to the horses. Let no one except me into this chamber.’

  When they had left, a single soldier remained while another stood just outside the door. Honora forced herself to behave like her sister, quiet and demure. It would be easier to catch the guard by surprise when the time came to make her move.

  Whether hours or minutes had passed, she couldn’t be sure. The chamber remained darkened, since the guard had closed the shutters. Jesu, she wished the battlements were closer. The window was wide enough to crawl through, and it was possible to reach the stone walkway if she took a strong leap. But a misstep would cause her death. It was too great a risk.

  Her guard seemed less interested in her as time passed. She had not spoken once to him, nor behaved as though she were a threat. Luring him into complacency, that was critical to her escape.

  The broken grip of her knife lay upon the ground at her feet. Although it was made of metal, it was ineffective as a weapon. She didn’t know why, but she tucked the grip into the girdle about her waist. It was familiar, it was hers, and perhaps a new blade could be added one day.

  She stared at the contents of the chamber once more. There was only the chair, the bed and the gowns she’d taken with her. And though she’d prefer to use the chair as a weapon, the guard was seated upon it. Not a good choice.

  But there was another possibility. She considered the options, weighing them over in her mind.

  When she heard a faint noise approaching, a creaking sound, she tensed. Time to do something instead of waiting for John to return.

  ‘I am cold,’ she murmured to the guard. ‘Might I put on another gown?’

  He hesitated, but could find no reason to deny the request. With a shrug, he tossed her the bundle of clothes. Honora unwrapped it, sorting through the garments until she chose a linen underdress.

  He was still watching her.

  ‘Turn your back, please,’ she begged. ‘You’ve no need to watch me dress.’

  She was startled when he obeyed. Fumbling with the clothes, she made it sound as though she were getting dressed while she drew closer to him. Gripping the fabric tightly with both hands, she sprang forwards and wrapped the garment around the guard’s throat. Twisting it tight, she suffocated him, praying that he would soon lose consciousness. She didn’t want him dead, only weakened.

  When he slumped to the floor, she threw open the shutters. To her shock, a thick rope hung down. Glancing outside, she saw Sir Ademar moving downwards.

  ‘What are you doing?’ she whispered.

  He swung himself inside the chamber. ‘Your sister told me what…happened. She thought you might need help.’

  Katherine? Honora gripped her shoulders, stunned that her sister had sent the knight to her.

  ‘Why didn’t you alert my father?’

  He shrugged. ‘This way was, ah—that is to say, I found it would be…m-more interesting. Get you out without anyone kn-knowing about it.’

  A hopeful smile perked upon her lips. ‘More interesting?’

  He nodded. ‘Less trouble. And, no-no one gets hurt.’ He flushed at his stammer, but she didn’t mind it at all.

  He was right. If she could escape before John noticed it, she might gain as much as a few hours of riding. But then, a frightening prospect occurred to her. Was Ademar expecting her to jump from here?

  ‘How do you suggest I get down?’

  He struggled with his words, speaking slowly. ‘I’ll help you…to the battlements. We need to move now.’

  Honora winced at the thought of swinging the rope to the stone walkway. It wasn’t directly below the window, and there was a very real possibility that she wouldn’t make the leap.

  ‘I’d rather fight the guards outside the door.’ She was about to suggest that they do exactly that, when the door started to open.

  Sir Ademar threw himself against it, and ordered, ‘Go!’

  With her stomach fighting to stay calm, Honora reached out for the rope. It’s not so very far, she told herself. Perhaps if she repeated it enough, she might begin to believe that.

  ‘Swing towards the battlements,’ Sir Ademar urged. ‘You’ll find what you need to g-get out of the castle.’ He strained as a harsh pounding on the door rattled the frame. ‘Ewan will b-be miles from here by now.’

  Honora crawled through the window, balancing on the sill as she reached for the rope. Glancing back at him, she sent him a thankful smile. ‘You’re a true hero, Sir Ademar.’

  And with her heart pounding, she lowered herself down.

  Twilight dimmed the horizon, and Ewan stopped by the river to drink. He’d followed the sun’s path west, his feet sore from all the walking.

  The taste of failure was bitter upon his tongue. It would take a fortnight to reach the coast without a horse. He’d considered defying Lord Ardennes’s orders and stealing his mount back. But in the end, he’d decided to keep peace with the man, even if it meant abiding by fines he didn’t agree with.

  The path he trod was as worn down as his spirits. He’d expected to come here and find a bride, fulfilling a destiny he’d dreamed of. Land. And a lovely woman at his side. It was meant to be the beginning of a new life for him, one in which he had his own kingdom instead of his brothers’ castoffs.

  Instead, he was walking away empty-handed. Aye, his temper had gotten him
tossed out of Ardennes without even a horse. But he didn’t regret defending Honora. He’d do it again, given the chance.

  She had grown into a woman of strength. Though she had endured her share of hardship, not once had she indulged in self-pity.

  Ewan admired her bravery. And whether he wanted to admit it or not, already he missed her. Honora had been his equal in all ways, both with her sword…and in her passionate spirit.

  The night they’d shared together in the garden haunted him still. The scent of her hair, the sweetness of her mouth…the silk of her skin.

  He should have brought her with him, despite all the problems it would cause. At least then he’d know she was protected.

  The sky grew dark, the sun sinking below the horizon. Ewan built a fire and set up a pallet for the night. He had coerced the castle cook into packing provisions for the journey. While he was unloading the sack, he heard a single horse approaching.

  Ewan reached for his sword, staring out into the distance. Chainmail glinted in the dying sunlight, and he hid himself within the tall grasses, waiting for the enemy soldier to approach.

  Had Lord Ardennes sent a man? Or John of Ceredys? He wasn’t certain, but he wished he had a bow and arrows.

  He crept to the far edge of the riverbank, his sword hilt in his hand. As he watched the rider approach, something was wrong. The soldier was not seated upright, but instead lay slumped across the saddle. He wore the Ardennes colours, but carried no shield.

  Was the man wounded? Or was this a ploy to lure him closer?

  Cautiously, Ewan emerged from his hiding place when the rider drew to a stop. The soldier attempted to dismount, but slid off the horse, falling to the ground.

  Críost. It was Honora.

  Ewan sheathed his sword and ran to her, helping her to sit up. Her body folded against his, and he didn’t know how she’d managed to stay atop the saddle for the many hours she’d been riding.

  He glanced around, but saw no one else with her. ‘Are you all right?’

  He lifted the iron helm and chainmail coif off her head, and she ventured a tired smile.

  ‘I am now.’

  Chapter Fourteen

  Ewan helped her drag off the remaining armour, peeling away the chainmail until she had on nothing but a crumpled bliaud and shift. The fabric clung to her body, dampened with perspiration.

  ‘I’m so tired,’ she murmured, letting him hold her. ‘I was afraid I wouldn’t find you.’

  Ewan let her rest against his chest, stroking her hair away from her face. ‘I’m glad you came.’

  He couldn’t believe she was truly here. Though he wanted to know why she had followed him, he was afraid to ask. As if she’d slip through his fingers and disappear.

  He tilted her face towards his and kissed her lightly in a kiss of welcome. Though he craved her touch, he didn’t press her for more. ‘I have food, if you’re hungry.

  Her smile deepened. ‘Thank goodness for that. I was hoping you would.’

  He opened up the provisions and chose a delicate pastry filled with chopped figs and almonds, smeared with honey. Breaking off a piece, he fed it to her.

  ‘Oh, this is so good.’ Honora moaned with pleasure. She looked like a woman who’d been made love to, and Ewan gritted his teeth to stop himself from the lusty thoughts racing through his mind.

  ‘Wine?’ he offered, handing her the flask. Honora drank, then sat down to finish devouring her food. Ewan let her eat her fill, satisfying his own hunger with cheese and fresh bread.

  Honora licked at her fingertips after she’d finished. The sun had sunk beneath the horizon, while the orange flames of the fire cast a glowing light amid the darkness.

  Her hair stood out against her shoulders, wild and rumpled. She smoothed her wrinkled gown and drew up her knees. Her feet were barefoot after she’d abandoned the boots.

  ‘I suppose you want to know why I followed you.’ She looked embarrassed and added, ‘You were the only one I could turn to for help.’

  ‘What happened?’

  She moved towards the fire, warming her hands. The flames illuminated her face and the dark bruises encircling her left wrist. ‘John took me captive and locked me in his chamber. He was planning to force me back to Ceredys.’

  She rubbed at her wrist, her voice quiet. ‘If it weren’t for Sir Ademar’s help, I might not have escaped.’

  ‘Sir Ademar?’ Ewan tried to keep his tone neutral, but the knight’s name caused a ripple of jealousy. ‘He was the one who rescued you?’

  Honora nodded. ‘My sister sent him.’

  ‘What of your father? Did he allow this to happen within his own walls?’ Ewan had seen the way Nicholas of Ardennes disregarded his daughter, and it provoked his own sense of justice.

  ‘He wanted me to leave.’ At the confession, Honora drew up her knees. Though she tried to mask it, he saw the fear rising up.

  ‘Why?’ He couldn’t keep the outrage from his voice. A father should protect his daughter, not subject her to the dangers of men like John.

  She glanced back at the horizon, her face troubled. ‘Because I betrayed Katherine with you.’

  Though she didn’t say it, he was responsible for her exile. Ewan sat down, resting his hand upon one knee. ‘I won’t apologise for wanting you. Or for refusing to wed your sister. It would have been wrong.’

  Her clear green eyes stared into his, filled with regret and guilt. ‘What we did was wrong. I should have stayed away from you.’

  ‘It wouldn’t have made a difference.’ He reached out and touched her face. ‘Would it?’

  Guilt stained her cheeks, and she looked away from him. ‘I have to decide what to do now. I thought I might go to Normandy, if you’ll escort me. I have kin there, and—’

  ‘Come to Éireann with me,’ he interrupted. ‘You’ll be safe.’

  Honora hesitated, risking a glance back at him. Her green eyes were filled with worry. ‘I could go…for a time. But I can’t abandon Ceredys and the folk to John’s mercy. I made a vow.’

  He wanted to argue that it wasn’t her responsibility, that she should stay far away from Ceredys. But it would do no good. Honora kept her promises, regardless of the risk to herself.

  ‘Recruit help from among my tribesmen,’ he suggested. ‘They are trustworthy, and you may be able to coax my brother Patrick, the King of Laochre, into helping you.’

  Honora expelled a sigh. ‘I suppose I’ll try. I’ve nowhere else to go.’ She turned away, and he moved beside her, drawing her back against his chest.

  ‘You’re not alone, Honora.’ With her hair at his lips, her body leaning upon his, every sense went on alert. The soft strands smelled lightly of flowers, and his hands encircled her waist.

  In silent answer, she held fast to his arms, squeezing lightly. For the first time, she wasn’t fighting herself or pushing him away. Instead, she returned the embrace, resting her head beneath his chin. It startled him, that it would feel this good to hold a woman.

  ‘What about you?’ she asked. ‘Will you find another heiress to wed?’ Though her tone remained even, he felt her posture shift, as though she were afraid of his answer.

  It was a question he hadn’t been able to face. After everything that had happened, it now seemed dishonourable to wed a woman for her lands, though it was the reason for most marriages.

  ‘I don’t know,’ was all he said. ‘I’ll make that decision after I return home.’ Too much had changed. The plans he had made now seemed unrealistic, a fool’s dreams. Still, he was unwilling to surrender them yet.

  ‘Any woman would be fortunate to wed you,’ Honora said softly. She turned to face him, and he saw the flush of embarrassment on her cheeks. As though she’d said too much.

  ‘I don’t want to think about what lies in the future,’ he admitted. ‘I’d rather just be with you now.’

  ‘As friends,’ she murmured, her hand resting on his shoulder.

  ‘No, Honora.’ He rose onto his knees, his hands sliding
into her hair. ‘Not friends.’ He ravaged her mouth, kissing her in such a way that she would know exactly what he wanted. She shivered in his arms, but didn’t pull away. ‘I can think of no better way to spend this night than to make you cry out with pleasure.’

  She looked stunned, her mouth parting. Her green eyes filled with uncertainty and a trace of fear. ‘Ewan…I feel like we’re starting over again, as strangers.’

  ‘We’re not strangers, Honora.’ He touched her shoulder, sliding his hand down her arm. ‘We’re going to be lovers.’

  His body went rigid, and he drew her hips close, palming her bottom. ‘I want to watch you fall apart. Again…and again.’

  She rested her forehead against his chest, and he heard her shuddering sigh. ‘I’m not…good at it.’

  ‘Good at what?’ He forced her to look at him, and her cheeks were fiery red with humiliation.

  ‘Being with a man. I was a disappointment to my husband.’

  Behind the hurt words, he saw her fear. She’d been misused, and the scars of her marriage had not healed.

  Though he could easily let her alone, allowing her to sleep apart from him, he didn’t want her believing the lies spoken by Ranulf.

  ‘If you were disappointed in your marriage bed, it was the fault of your husband. Not you.’

  He held her again, stroking her spine with reassurance. It didn’t appear to have any effect, for she could not relax in his arms.

  ‘I hated it,’ she admitted.

  She was like a terrified bird, poised to fly from his arms. Though it was a physical torment, Ewan loosened his embrace, pulling back. If he pushed her too much now, she would fear him. ‘Trust me when I say, I would never do anything to hurt you. If you don’t want me to touch you, I’ll leave you alone.’

  He led her over to the pallet he’d set up earlier, fighting to keep out the pain of his arousal. Gods above, this was going to be a miserable night. ‘Sleep now, and gather your strength for the morrow.’